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sometimesanalice · 1 year

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Give Me Your Hand {Here Is My Heart}

Summary: You and Bradley have been dating for a couple months now. You want him and he wants you. And it’s getting harder and harder to keep your hands off of him. So what is holding you back?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 9K

Warnings: Fluff, Pining, and Smuttt

(This will be a 2-Part series for characters in the “Like I Can” Universe. It can be read without reading the original series first.) PART 2

You’ve seen Bradley’s thick, wavy hair in various stages throughout your life. He has a little cowlick tuft in the back that would always pop up if it was cut too short. You’d seen it in high school when he used a little too much product like most boys did at that age. You’d seen it smashed and sweaty from being trapped under a baseball cap for too long.

However, for all the ways you’ve seen it over the years, his hair mussed by your own hands is easily one of your very favorite looks on him.

There is an open bottle of some random red blend you had picked up from the grocery store on the table, you had been more drawn to the label than what was inside of it. Your glasses were mostly untouched, the only clue about whose belonged to who was the imprint of your lower lip left behind on the rim from your lipstick that’s long worn off from your mouth.

And you are straddling Bradley’s denim clad lap enthusiastically making out on his probably-from-Ikea-but-still-very comfortable dark gray couch. The short skirt of your flirty little ruffled red dress sliding higher and higher up your thighs with every movement.

Your hands are undoing what minimal styling he had done to it before you had gotten to his place that evening, while his large ones are everywhere. Traveling the length of your back, squeezing your hips, running over the outsides of your calves.

It has been almost a couple of months since you had been set up by the Daggers on those truly terrible dates. At the time it seemed like a fun idea to go on all those blind dates, until it wasn’t.

That is, until Bradley. Being with him had made it all worthwhile.

There have been plenty of dates since then. Nights out. Nights in. Nights spent laughing at the Hard Deck with his friends. But they all end the same. With Bradley kissing you goodnight.

In the Bronco.

At your door.

At his.

You haven’t stayed the night, not once. Not even after the time where you both fell asleep tangled on his couch. You had woken up it find it was nearly 3 A.M, and even then you still made it a point not to cross the threshold into his bedroom. Even though you wanted to.

The way his mouth is moving against yours is nothing short of sinful. He is so good at making you breathless. So good at making you blush. Having him like this is more than you ever thought you’d get, its deliciously thrilling being the one to pull the low moans and satisfied sighs from him.

It is almost too easy with Bradley. You’d never let yourself think about forever at this point in a relationship with anyone else. He made it so difficult for you to keep your head on straight when he looked at you with such dizzying adoration.

It was getting harder and harder not let yourself think about Bradley being the one for all of your last-firsts. Even as you tried to take things with him day by day, moment by moment.

How that evening out on the outdoor terrace could have been your last-first date. That pretty green dress you’d worn, now tucked away in your closet protected in its garment bag, felt special in a way you weren’t sure you were ready to look at too closely.

How that kiss against his Bronco in the parking lot near the beach afterwards could have been your last-first kiss.

How whenever you mustered up the courage to finally give yourself to him entirely that it could be your last-first time.

But one of you had to be the practical one. One of you has to keep their feet on the ground because the other literally as his head in the clouds on a daily basis. You felt constantly at war with bullet pointed logic of your mind and the whatifwhatifwhatifs of your heart.

When Bradley dropped you off back at your car after your post-oceanside-dinner-milkshake-run, he asked you out again for the next weekend. Claimed he wanted you to have a second first date with him, even though you both already were planning on meeting your friends at the Hard Deck the very next night.

His smile had been so sweet and his eyes so sincere there was no way you were going to turn him down. Even if you didn’t think you needed a second first date with him when the first had been one for the books.

Bradley’s burning lips work their way down your neck. His hand at the base of your neck keeping you exactly where he wanted you. The delicious drag of his mustache along the sensitive skin of your throat makes your toes curl. His hot mouth sucking softly at your pulse point before laving it with his tongue. Can he feel how fast your heart is beating?

For your second-first date, the only feeling that had been coursing through you that day had been pure excitement knowing it would be Bradley knocking on your door.

And when he picked you up, he arrived with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a bottle of your favorite champagne in the other.

There was an undeniable giddiness that evening, but also a tentative shyness between the two of you as you sat across from each other at one of the many seafood restaurants that dotted the boardwalk. The table had felt almost too big, since the two of you were both a little too in your heads.

“Why did it feel easier last time-”

“I feel like I’m on an interview-”

After a couple awkward stops and starts, you both just looked at each other and had to laugh about it. It was better when you moved your place settings and slid into the spot next to him. When his leg nervously bounced under the table, you were close enough to rest a hand on his thigh.

“Have I told you how pretty you look?”

“Only a few times now,” you replied as you nudged his foot with yours, “But I like hearing it.”

And then slowly but surely the nerves and awkwardness melted away as you two settled into the familiarity of each other. You did call him “Rooster” a couple times on accident, and he ended up almost telling you the same story twice before he realized it halfway through the second time. But it was a comfortable kind of bumbling as you explored the newness of this part of your relationship together.

Afterwards, he had suggested taking a walk along the beach, you’d readily agreed at the thought of the sand beneath your toes and your fingers tangled between Bradley’s.

You didn’t walk very far before a large canopy made entirely out of thousands of string lights caught your eye. The area was roped off on the beach halfway between the boardwalk and the ocean waves. People were already milling about, some brave souls already dancing away as the final rays from the sunset illuminated them in a golden red light.

“C’mon, kid,” he’d said already tugging you along with him by the hand, “Let’s check it out.”

“Bradley, I don’t know. This looks like some kind of private event.”

It didn’t click until he was pulling out his phone with the tickets already pulled up and ready to be scanned that he had planned it all along.

“I’ve always wanted to go to one of these,” you told him with a grin on your face as you waited in the line to exchange your shoes for a pair of light up headphones.

“Have you now?” He was looking very pleased with himself as he slid an arm around you, tucking his hand into the back pocket of your jeans.

“I thought you said you were done with surprises,” you asked teasingly, smoothing down the front of his Hawaiian shirt. Enjoying the way his stomach tensed beneath your hand.

“Now, where the fun in that? I think I like surprising you,” he murmured into your ear.

When you made your way to the front, he slipped the headphones over your ears before pulling you to the side, bending down to roll up your jeans a bit and then doing the same to his.

The sand was still warm for the sun under your feet, and the twinkle lights were picking up the golden strands in Bradley’s wavy hair. He was so handsome and he was all yours tonight.

The two of you had the best time as you bounced around between stations, the colors on your headphones changing from blue to red to green as you told the other one to change over whenever a familiar song came on as the inky night settled around you.

You had danced with Bradley plenty of times of the years, like at school dances and at your mom’s second wedding. However, it was always the goofy and fun kind of dancing between friends. Where he would spin you until you were doubled over in laughter or where you’d compete to see who could pull out the most ridiculous moves.

His fancy footwork and carefree exuberance still amused you to no end, but it was also the good kind of different the way he wrapped his arms around you from behind. You’d felt a good kind of free in the way you let your hips move against him without overthinking it. It was the good kind of exciting the way he feathered kisses down the side of your neck when the music playing through the headphones slowed down.

The two of you moving in sync and touching each other in ways you haven’t indulged in before, a little sweaty and out of breath. You had never felt so truly lighthearted and uninhibited as you did as you danced the night away with Bradley, as he shimmied with you, as he twirled you about, as he held you close.

By the end of the evening, your cheeks were hurting from the wide smile that hadn’t left your face once the whole night.

And there was no hesitation in the way you pulled his face to yours as people danced around lost in their own moments on the beach under the twinkle lights and moonlight that night. As you got lost in him.

The rough denim of his jeans between the soft skin of your thighs has you desperate to move against him for more. His fingers are playing with the frilly chiffon fabric of the red dress you bought forever ago and completely forgot about in your closet. You wanted to be as bold as the color you were wearing, to take the lead and slide his hands up your dress to where you both really wanted them to be. Instead you trail your lips long the strong line of his jaw, reveling in the way he sighs your name.

The next date you had planned.

And the only thing you had told him about it was what time he should expect to be picked up.

At the time he’d grumbled something about his mom raising him as a gentleman and that meant always picking the girl up. To which, you had retorted that Carole told you not to take nonsense from any man, and that included her son. Phoenix had clicked her glass with yours at that.

Bradley was notoriously bad a keeping a secret, excluding when he had planned that first date, but he was even worse when he was the one being kept in the dark. Needless, to say you thoroughly enjoyed teasing him that whole week before your next date.

And if he ran his hands more over your body as he tried to get you to give him even the smallest of hints, you couldn’t say you minded.

You’d stopped by his favorite deli on you way home from work and ordered a couple of those giant sandwiches that were piled high with all the cold cuts and too many toppings, along with a few containers of different sides to round out the meal. Your fridge had been stocked his favorite beer from your last grocery run, so you’d grabbed a few cans of those and some sparkling waters and put those in your cooler basket with the other sweet treats you had already bought before you’d quickly changed and left to go pick him up.

You’d barely had the car parked in his driveway of his condo before he was opening the door and throwing his large body in your car.

“It’s not too late to let me drive, kid,” he’d said in greeting, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You really liked this part, the casual physicality of his affection. You liked it a lot.

“Oh please, you just want me to tell you what we’re doing,” you countered, as you backed up and pulled on to the main road. “Plus, I don’t see what your problem is. I drive you around all the time when the Bronco is getting a tune up.”

“Yeah, but only when it’s in the shop. I am physically pained to be in a Honda Civic,” he complained, as he shifted from side to side and moved the seat back trying to get more comfortable. Ever the drama queen.

“Hey, it’s a hybrid! I’m saving the planet,” you lobbed back at him, “How much fuel does your F/A-18 go through?”

“It’s boring.” There was no missing the derision dripping from the word.

Such a little car snob.

“I think you mean it’s practical,” you replied primly. “I’m not going to apologize for having a car from this century, Bradley.”

“Is it even safe to be this close to the ground?” he groused as he looked at you from over the top of his sunglasses.

“Well, my lease on this is up soon and I have been thinking about getting an all-American whip,” you paused for a moment as he perked up at the idea of that, “Do you think I would look cute in a Jeep?”

The taunt landed just the way you hoped it would when he groaned and clutched his heart.

“My girl is not driving a Jeep. That’d be like sleeping with the enemy!” he dramatically bemoaned, “The Bronco would stall out of spite knowing you’re driving the competition.”

You hoped he didn’t catch the way you’d clamed up. How your hands had tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles standing out in contrast against the paper-thin skin there.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t slept with someone on the first date before. And while you knew it was a matter of when and not if, you were still having a hard time wrapping your brain around the fact that you would be having sex with Bradley Bradshaw.

But there was fucking and then there was whatever this was.

It already felt different with him than anyone else you’ve dated before. It felt like it would mean more with him and you couldn’t pretend you weren’t anxious about it.

This was Bradley.

Bradley.

Who had always made it to your tennis matches wearing the t-shirt he had made that boldly sported your last name across his chest after you had complained that the boys’ teams always better funding and therefore got better apparel. He was always the loudest person in the stands, except for your moms when they overdid it on the Sauvignon Blanc.

Bradley.

Who had always sent you your favorite kind of flowers to be delivered on your birthday and never failed to FaceTime with you regardless of where he was in the world or what time it was where he was stationed.

Bradley who was looking so handsome next to you in your practical Honda Civic wearing a snug light blue button up shirt and smelling really good. Woodsy with the tiniest hint of citrus.

With his tousled sun-lightened curls and warm brown eyes. His strong, sturdy nose. That mustache that had no right to look so perfect on his face. You’d liked every version of him you’d know throughout your life, but this one next to you? You lo--

“Light’s green, sweet girl.” He was wearing that little half smirk of his. The one that was entirely too knowing, and that looked entirely too good on him.

You had blinked at him a few times before you had realized you’d been completely caught checking him out. And it wasn’t until the car behind you honked that you were startled out of your Bradley filled mental wanderings.

Thankfully you were saved from further jokes at you or your car’s expense as you pulled into the parking lot of the library, happy for the distraction from your earlier thoughts.

“Do you have some books you need to return?” he asked a bit perplexed, his eyebrow knitting together.

“Nope,” you answered. Sending him a smug wink as you reached over to click the button to unbuckle his seatbelt.

He wasn’t the only one who could plan a surprise in this relationship.

And in the midst of your self-satisfied musings, you had somehow missed the way he had rounded the car until his big hands were on your waist. Then he was turning you around and crowding you against the side of your very practical car.

“This ok?” he rasped questioningly against your ear, stroking your side.

You nodded rapidly. All words had escaped you the second he had pressed his broad, hard body against yours.

It was a miracle you didn’t drop the basket in your hands when his mouth collided with yours, his lips leisurely gliding over yours. You were still getting use to the sensation of his rough mustache on your delicate skin, but you liked the feel of it.

You liked everything about him.

He pulled away after a few moments, nudging your cheek with his nose, “Hey, you good?”

There was a moment when you thought that maybe he had noticed the way you’d froze in the car when he had made that joke. He knew you so well, but even that felt like a stretch.

“Just peachy,” you replied, as you leaned in for another quick peck. But just as you tried to pull away, he tugged you back in.

“’m not done kissing you yet.”

“Bradley, come on,” you laugh breathlessly, the grin on your face derailing any further plans he had for your mouth.

“Or, hear me out,” he mused, as he trailed a finger down your arm, until he reached your hand to take the basket from you, “We can make out against your car. Seeing as we’re already very good at that.”

“Nuh-uh.” You shake your head at him. “There will be no more making out.”

“At all?” he coaxed. His thumb sneaking under your top, stroking the skin above your hip.

“For the next couple of hours,” you amended. “Are you going to be trouble?”

“Only the good kind, I promise.” He was wearing that cheeky smile that always left you feeling a little flustered. Threading your fingers together with his free hand, he gestured for you to lead the way.

You pulled him along with you as you followed the other groups of people who were making their way the same direction around to the back of the library where the large section of grassy lawn was located.

“Last chance, you sure you don’t want to go make out in the stacks?” he teased as you passed by the entrance, giving you a heated once over, “You always were such a good girl in school, Miss Valedictorian.”

It made your cheeks warm at both the idea of him pressing you against the shelves and from him calling you a good girl. And you were almost tempted to let him have his way. To let him pull you out of the line you were waiting in in favor of finding out what his mouth tasted like in some quiet, dusty corner of the library.

“Behave, this is an all ages event,” you reminded him, and yourself. He held up his three fingers in Scout’s promise. But you knew better, recognized what that smirk he was wearing meant, so you met him half way, “If you’re good, maybe we can do that for our third date.”

You had felt your pulse radiate through your whole body when he leaned in close and murmured, “I can be good for you.”

A pointed cough jolted you both out of the moment, you had been so wrapped up in him that you had completely missed that the line had moved. Muttering a sheepish Sorry, you tugged a shameless Bradley along with you to catch up with everyone else.

When you made it to the front of the line, he tried to fish out his wallet before you could reach yours to pay the suggested entry donation fee. The volunteer chuckled as you tossed the blanket you were carrying at your troublesome date’s broad chest. And then you handed over the cash you had withdrawn from the ATM earlier in the day, plus a little more.

You were a patron of the literary arts, after all. A humanitarian with a point to prove. This was your date you had planned for Bradley, you would be the one sweeping him off his feet tonight.

The big screen they had set up gave it away, but you refused to tell him what movie was playing that evening even as he made guess after guess as you wove your way around people to find an unoccupied spot in the grass.

You kept him busy by having him smooth out the blanket until there were absolutely no wrinkles, and then distracted him with all of his favorite goodies as you unpacked them out of your cooler bag. Thankfully, it wasn’t too much longer before the event’s coordinator was welcoming everyone since you had run out of PG-rated ways to keep Bradley diverted without spoiling the evening’s featured film.

When the opening credits had started rolling for Singin’ in the Rain Bradley had turned to you, his wide grin lighting up his whole face.

“I love this movie,” he said excitedly.

You smiled back at him indulgently, as if you didn’t already know that. However, you still had felt very pleased with yourself that he was so thrilled as you passed him one of the massive, overly filled sandwiches along with a beer.

You had forgotten to pack some extra plates to put the sides on, so you and Bradley passed the containers of creamy potato salad, tangy coleslaw, and cold tomato salad back and forth. Occasionally feeding the other bites in between watching Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor’s antics on screen.

A little while later, the two of you had cozied up on the blanket, the leftover food pushed off to one side. Bradley had pulled you into the space between his legs, encouraging you to rest your back against his sturdy chest. You had never felt as perfectly content as you did sitting there wrapped up in his arms sharing a bag of gummy bears and the other boxes of movie candy you had packed as the warm California breeze washed over you.

You had been surrounded by families and other couples, but the way he rested his chin against your shoulder and hummed along with Gene Kelly singing “You Were Meant For Me” was for your ears only.

There isn’t anything in this world that feels as good as Bradley’s wet lips sliding over yours. Nothing as exciting as wondering where his hands will roam to next on your body. Nothing as devastating as when he teases down the strap of your dress off of your shoulder with his nose as his mouth purposefully works along your collarbone.

Ever the gentleman, he’s never pressured you, or even brought it up. You know he is waiting for you to make the move, to let you be the one who sets the pace. To let him know when you’re ready to take that next step with him.

And you want to. You really want to. Even now, you can feel how enticingly hard he is beneath you as you moan into his mouth.

You know that you’re the one holding you back.

The one holding the both of you back.

And you know exactly why.

The closest you two even got to toeing that line into something more was the night you got back home after spending a few days on the East Coast for a work trip.

Bradley had wanted to pick you up from the airport, but you were getting in late and didn’t want him to lose out on the sleep that he needed to stay safe doing his job. He only let it go once you had promised him you would text him when you landed and got home in one piece.

You had been getting ready for bed after showering off the plane from your body, slipping on an old shirt you had recently rediscovered buried in the back of your dresser when your phone had lit up. And you really shouldn’t have been surprised to see Bradley’s name on your screen well past 2 A.M, but your heart still fluttered seeing his name pop up.

“Yes, Bradley?” you answered with a playful lilt in your tone.

“Hi, kid,” you could hear the soft smile in his voice, “Did you make it home ok?”

“I did, but what are you still doing awake? You’ve got that new training program that starts tomorrow, and roosters aren’t known for being nocturnal creatures.”

“She’s got jokes, ladies and gentlemen,” he deadpanned flatly before tentatively continuing, “You said you were going to text me when you landed. But my phone has been suspiciously silent.”

You didn’t know if that swooping sensation in your stomach had been from feeling like you’d let him down or from the fact that he was calling you this late because he was worried about you. That he had stayed up wanting to hear from you because you mattered to him. You that you were in his 2 A.M thoughts.

“I figured you’d be asleep, and I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted self-consciously as you puttered around you room, putting away a few of the things from your suitcase.

And it had been the truth. You had typed out a message when you were waiting in the ride share pick up area with your carry on, but ended up deleting it not wanting to bother him or disturb his sleep.

“Nah, you’d never bother me. I was waiting to hear from you. Wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyways, not with you being flown around by some random pseudo-captain airline pilot wearing a pair of wings with a brand logo on it.”

The men you had dated in the past had always said the same thing without really meaning it, sending halfhearted thumbs up when you’d let them known you got home after a date or landed safely after a work trip. But Bradley wasn’t like those men, he truly meant the things he said because he cared.

“Not the branded wings,” you teased, before softly saying, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good, sweet girl. I’m just happy you’re home. You free dinner tomorrow? I want to hear all about your trip.”

“For you? Yeah, I think I can clear my schedule.”

“Good,” he said contentedly before pausing for a moment, and you heard rustling on the other end of the line, “So, what are you wearing?”

You burst out laughing, as you finally crawled into your soft bed, grinning wildly, “Bradley Bradshaw, you did not just ask me that!”

“What?” he asked innocently, his chuckle giving him away. “How about this, you tell me and I promise to never bring up the fact that you have contributed to any prematurely gray hairs that might have sprung up in the last few hours.”

“A silver fox Bradley Bradshaw?” Now that was something you were very much looking forward to seeing one day, “Be still my heart.”

“Chances are you won’t have to wait long,” he joked.

“Well, it’s funny you should ask,” you mused as you look down at the threadbare shirt you had on, “Because I am currently wearing a very old Cardinals Baseball shirt.”

He had given it to you after they had won the State Championships his junior year as a thank you for all the time you had spent helping him practice after school and on the weekends leading up to the playoff games.

“You’re messing with me.”

“I would never joke about Washington High school pride.” He laughed at that, because really, when were you not teasing him?

When you didn’t say anything more he’d pressed, “Wait, seriously?”

“Mm-hmm,” you purred smugly, playing with the frayed hem of the shirt.

“I want to see it.”

“Are you asking me to send a photo of myself in bed after 2 A.M?” you asked with faux shock, “Sir, I am a lady.”

That made him snort, “There wasn’t anything ladylike about the way you took down that burger the other week. But seriously. You’ve got sixty seconds, kid. Otherwise I’m coming over there to see it for myself.”

Your breath had caught in your throat. His demand made your heart beat faster in your chest, the two of you had never done anything like this before.

“Ok, ok. Give me a moment.”

Working quickly knowing Bradley wasn’t one for idle threats, you positioned yourself where his shirt is clearly visible, but also featured a glimpse of the top of your thighs and a hint of the smirk on your lips. Satisfied you sent it off to him and put the phone back up to your ear.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out incredulously. You didn’t know if he meant to say it out loud or not, but you’d felt the heat work its way in your cheeks all the same.

“Come on then, Bradshaw. You’re up. Tit for tat as it was.”

“I didn’t realize tits were on the table,” he rasped lowly.

You were thankful he hadn’t made this a FaceTime call, so that he didn’t see the way your jaw dropped.

There was a thrumming working its way through your body. There wasn’t anything explicitly dirty happening, but it felt deliciously thrilling all the same. It was exciting doing this with him.

“Nuh-uh, rules are rules. You’ve got sixty seconds,” you tell him, trying to sound more in control than you felt.

A few moments later you see the notification pop down, and you click into the text. The first thing your mind registered was his skin.

So much golden skin.

He was leaning against his head board, navy comforter bunched around low on his waist. His hair was a little mussed, and his mouth was pulled to one side in a half-smirk. He was just so handsome, you could even see the fine trail of hairs that led to his---

“Goddammit, Bradley!” you’d exclaimed putting him on speaker, so you could still hear him without putting your phone back up to your ears since you were too busy staring at the picture he had just sent. “Are you kidding me? This is some serious one-handed fodder!”

You could hear his booming laughter on the other side.

“Happy now?” You could hear how pleased he was with your reaction in his voice.

“Truly, the happiest. You have no idea,” you replied, albeit a distractedly, “But, full disclosure? I am going to be gazing at this so disrespectfully after we hang up.” You’ve never been so bold before, but everything about that moment had been electrifying with him. Because of him.

“Enjoy your one-handed fodder, kid. But full disclosure?” his voice was teasing as he used your own words against you, “You’d need to use both hands. I’m glad you’re home, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, sweet girl.”

He hung up on you without waiting for a response as you gaped into your home screen.

As images filled your head of what it would look like to have both of your hands wrapped the length of him, you let your fingers trail down your stomach and under the waistband of your underwear.

You had already lost a lot of sleep thinking about Bradley. Dreaming about how it would feel to be naked and pressed close along his body. He runs so warm normally, would he be even hotter to the touch as you both rocked against each other? You wanted to know the sounds he made when he came.

Too desperate to come to bother reaching for your vibrator, you had propped your phone against your spare pillow looking at that photo of him cozy and warm in his bed, and with your other hand you easily slid two fingers into yourself. Circling your clit with one hand as you worked yourself with the other.

You wanted his fingers. You wanted his mouth. You wanted his cock. You wanted all of him.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself think about Bradley. His molten brown eyes. His strong forearms. The tantalizing veins of his thick neck. The way his mustache feels against your mouth when you make out in his Bronco. The powerful grace in the way his body moved during a game of dogfight football.

You imagined him unreservedly and unabashedly.

Above you.

Below you.

Behind you.

You came like a flash. Back arching as you spasmed against your own fingers while thinking about his.

And a few minutes later, just as your heart rate had settled back down and you were about to turn your light off, you got a text from him.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝. 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝙸 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎-𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚘, 𝚔𝚒𝚍.

Which promptly had you tossing your phone away from you as you squealed into your pillow.

It was so easy to lose yourself in his kiss, breathing in each other’s air. Your mouths are drawn together like magnets. His hands are high on your ribcage, his brave thumb caressing the underside of your breast. You are dizzy off of the feeling of his tongue stroking yours.

There is an earnest yearning in the way you both kiss each other. In the way you touch each other. It’s almost like you’re trying to make up for something.

“I can feel you thinking, sweet girl,” he says a little breathlessly as he pulls away from your mouth. His lips are swollen and his hair is a wavy, brown mess. “Am I not going a good enough job over here?”

You know he is teasing you, but you can tell that he is giving you the gentle opening to talk about what distracting thoughts are pulling you out of being in the moment with him.

“I was just thinking about when you picked me up in your old Montero for the first time. You were leaning against it like my very own Jake Ryan,” you tell him as you place kisses across his cheek.

Not exactly the truth, but you don’t want to ruin the mood by telling him what was really on your mind. Not when you wanted to make him feel just as good as he was making you feel.

“I loved that car,” he moans lightly as you kiss along his jaw, his hands sliding up your back.

“I know,” you hum against his ear, “You didn’t talk to me for like a week when I spilled my milkshake in it that one time.”

“I should have kept that car, she was a classic,” he sighs as he leans his head against the back of the couch to look up at you. His hands skimming up and down the sides of your waist, still hard beneath you.

“You know, my parents still think I was some kind of manual stick-shifting wunderkind,” you tell him grinning down at him. Your thumb tracing the long scar there under his Adam’s apple.

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have taught you how to how to drive when you were fourteen,” he says with fondness. The grin on his gorgeous face nothing short of sheepish, “Your mom can never know. I still want her to like me.”

You smile briefly thinking about him teaching you in the afternoons after school when neither of you had practices to attend in the abandoned parking lot across town.

How he had patiently taught you how to shift from neutral into first even after stalling out multiple times in a row. He had done his best to hid his wincing from you when you inevitably managed to grind the gears because he didn’t want you to feel bad about it. You can still remember how loudly he whooped for you when you managed to start it and get it moving in one go. Afterwards, he had taken you to the ice cream place to celebrate, that time with him in the driver’s seat.

When you had finally gotten your learner’s permit your parents had called you a natural. And you had immediately known that there was no way you were ever going to tell them you’d learned from Bradley. That was a secret just for the two of you.

“You know,” you muse toying with button on his shirt, “Sixteen-year-old me would probably be losing her mind knowing that I get to make out with you anytime I want.”

“Huh, that so?” he smirks, a hand coming up to play with the ends of your hair, “Did you have a crush on me, kid?”

For the most part, before getting together you had been good about keeping your feelings for Bradley purely platonic. Except for a couple of slip ups here and there over the years, like that time at the Hard Deck after seeing the team play dogfight football for the first time. But that was another secret that you were never going to give up easily.

Your friendship with him had always meant more to you than anything else.

“Mm, I wouldn’t call it a crush. What I had was a lot of hormones, and it didn’t help that you were pretty.”

He had always been cute, even as a gangly teen whose arms and legs never seemed to be in sync, but the man looking up at you now was in a league of his own. His warm brown eyes were slightly hooded filled with mischief and something more.

“And now?” Bradley asks teasingly, his other smoothing up your back to press you closer. He leans forward to kiss the spot where your neck met your shoulder.

“Now?” you breathe out, as his mouth moves up along your neck, “Now I still have a lot of hormones, think you’re very handsome, and definitely have a crush on you.”

“Good,” he murmurs as his teeth graze your jaw.

“What about you?” you gasp, melting into him further. You want to keep him talking, so you don’t think about how you want his mouth on other places. He is so hard, so warm, and you want him so bad.

But for as much as you wanted to strip off your clothes and his to let him have his way with you, it was the last boundary between being just friends and this. It wasn’t something that could ever be undone. And you wanted it so bad, it scared you just how much you wanted that kind of permanence with him.

It’s been almost two months and you’ve had him for years, but you want him like this forever.

“Yeah, there’s been a few times when I’ve caught myself thinking about you in less than friendly ways. You’re gorgeous, and smart, and funny,” He squeezes your waist, before admitting, “Always felt guilty when it happened though.”

He had thought of you too.

Why did that make your chest hurt? Could you have been doing this for years?

“Tell me,” you quietly urge, running your fingers through his hair encouragingly, “I want to know.”

You were desperate to know.

“Do you remember that house party we went to that Spring Break you visited me during my senior year at UVA?” he asks, letting his hands lightly trail up and down the tops of your thighs.

You could have been doing this for years.

You didn’t trust your voice not to wobble and betray you, so you nodded your head instead.

“I had gone in to get us a couple more drinks, and when I came back out there were so many more people in the backyard than there were when I left. I mean, I was probably a little drunk, but it was packed,” he told you as his thumb rubbed small circles near your inner knee, “I remember looking for you when I got distracted by a great set of legs in pair of frayed denim shorts. And as I was working out how I was going to play it as I made my way over to her, she turned around.”

It wasn’t a secret where this was going. You knew what the ending would be before he even started telling you the story. Yet, you were still hanging on his every word with bated breath.

“You turned around. Couldn’t believe I didn’t recognize you in that moment. And the way you smiled at me,” he reaches up and cups your cheek, his thumb lightly tapping on the spot where your dimples lived, “God, I still remember, it hit me like a suckerpunch. Your hair looked so pretty under the string lights they had put up.”

“They were the shitty red and green Christmas kind,” you whisper.

You remembered that party, it was one of the last times you got to spend uninterrupted one-on-one time with him before he joined the Navy. Before your friendship turned into a long-distance game of catching up and phone tag.

“They were and probably a fire hazard too,” he confirms softly with a chuckle, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you gaze at each other. “I felt so bad afterwards that I had been checking you out. Like I was taking advantage of our friendship somehow.”

This was a new kind of openness between the two of you in this little moment of transparent honesty. A reminder for how well you know each other that there are still new things to learn.

“I remember when you picked me up from the airport, I think it was like the first time we’d seen each other in person in almost a year. And I had this moment when I saw you waiting for me that realized that the boy I had grown up with was very much a man,” you sit back a bit to better look at him, his cheeks were still flushed from earlier. “But god, Bradley, now? Now, you’re devastating.”

You wanted him to have these parts of you, to fill him in on the things he didn’t know, the things you kept close to your heart. It was your story, but it belonged to him too.

“C’mere,” he murmurs as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck pulling you back into him. Your mouths are a whisper away from each other as you share the same air, and he is looking at you with such open want, “I didn’t realize until recently how much time I spent trying not to think about you like that when you first moved here. And now that I can, you’re the only thing that’s been on my mind. You’re so fucking distracting, sweet girl.”

If you thought you were needy before, now you felt like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin if you didn’t get your mouth back on his right that very second.

He meets you half way for a desperate kiss. It’s hungry and open-mouthed. You come alive under his touch, his kiss energizes you in a way that no drug or stimulant ever could.

Your hasty, frantic hands landing everywhere. Never content to linger in one place for long. Not when you have so much of his body you are dying to map with your hands. With your mouth. You want to touch him everywhere. You want to taste him everywhere.

You nibble on the fullness of his lower lip, seeking entrance into his warm mouth. He opens for you without hesitation, his tongue ready and waiting to welcome yours. You can still taste the juicy, full-bodied red on him from that long-forgotten bottle of wine.

He says your name on shattered breath, pulling away only long enough to place wet, hot kisses down your neck, down your chest. Your hands are buried in his hair, clutching at his sunkissed waves.

“This damn bow,” he rasps as he roughly pulls at the little bow at the center of your flirty red dress as if it has personally offended him by its very existence. Once untied it reveals a bit more of the swell of your breasts to his eager eyes.

Your skin feels almost a size too small for your body, and your throat is tight with want. His kisses were like champagne going straight to your head. His hands are the only thing you want touching you.

You don’t mean to let your hips rock against the firm swell of him, but his resounding groan is quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. And you know in that moment you need to hear it again, and again. So you roll your hips once more, intentionally this time.

Bradley’s low moan of pleasure makes you feel heady and reckless. You lick a stripe along the underside of his jaw. His hands fly to your ass, sliding under that frilly dress, grasping you with greedy hands when you kiss a spot behind his ear. Even in your frenzied state you file away his response to that for later.

And then you are lost in the feel of his mouth. Of his hands on you. Of your hands on him. Of the taste of the skin of his neck. Of the feeling of the zipper on his tight jeans hitting your clit just right as you writhe on top of him.

It starts as a shiver that makes your whole body erupt in goosebumps as he encourages the rolling of your hips against him. You’ve never felt as cared for, as safe as you do in his arms.

The tingling sensation begins at the base of your neck and like a flicker start it shoots down, down the entire length of your spine setting off in your cunt in spectacular electric bursts.

You spasm deliciously and devastatingly against nothing with Bradley pressed thick and hard against the center of you. The shockwaves gripping your body as you’re left gasping and panting into the hollow of his throat.

“Did you just...?” he asks urgently. You can’t speak yet so you nod vigorously into his neck. “Fuck. That’s so hot.”

Pressing closer, you try to hide from the intensity you know you would find in his eyes. Burying your face further in his neck as you try to catch your breath. You breathe him in in hopes that his soothing cedar scent will help settle the rapid beating of your heart.

“Sweet girl, please. C’mon, I gotta see you,” he murmurs desperately. He pulls his head back a bit trying to create more room to get a look at you, attempting to coax you out by brushing your hair back, “I need to see it. Please. Let me see your face.”

You can feel how turned on he is, can hear it in his voice. And you’re feeling truly shy around Bradley for probably the first time in your life.

“I’ve been thinking about what you’d sound like for weeks,” he tells you with such soft sincerity.

“Bradley,” you whisper finally pulling away from the sanctuary that is the crook of his neck. His heated gaze roams your face, drinking you in. He brings a hand up to cradle your cheek, this thumb skimming your lower lip. There are a thousand different emotions coursing through you and you know he can read them all.

“God, you’re so beautiful. Talk to me, please,” he breathes, “What’s going through your mind? It’s just me.”

You have been so careful trying to skirt around this conversation. It has been the elephant in the room after every date, every heated make out session, every honeyed goodnight kiss.

And you want him too much to keep avoiding this, even though it scares you.

“That’s just it, Bradley, it’s you!”

“It’s me?” he asks confused.

“Yes! It’s you, it’s me, it’s us. It has never been like this with anyone else. I have never felt like this with anyone else. And the way you look at me sometimes, it’s overwhelming.” You were still feeling flustered from your surprise orgasm, and you know you aren’t expressing yourself clearly. But you feel so flayed open before him.

“Hey, hey,” he says soothingly, “If this is too much for you, we can slow it down. Or if you aren’t feeling it, we figure out how to be just friends again.” He can’t hide the wince on his face as he says it, but you know he honestly means it. “It might take me a couple of decades to forget the way you sounded just now, but we would figure it out together.”

“No, I don’t want that. Don’t you get it? I feel the complete opposite, and that’s the problem!”

“Ok, wait. You just came on my lap, sweet girl,” Bradley’s voice is unmistakably proud, even as he breathes out raggedly. “I’m trying to get my thoughts in order over here. Because that was the best thing I’ve ever heard and I’m having trouble getting my head on right to talk about this. So as much as I love having you on me, we have to readjust before we can continue.”

You make a noise of protest as maneuvers you both so that he is stretched out across the couch, while you’re nestled securely against the back of his couch and half draped over him.

“Let’s try this again,” he says rubbing small circles on your back, “I don’t want to mess this up by not knowing exactly where we stand with things, you are too important to me. Are you worried it’s going to be weird or that it’s not going to be good?”

“No.” That legitimately never even crossed your mind. But now a seed of doubt had been planted in your already anxious mind, “Are you?”

“Not even a little bit,” Bradley tells you with a shake of the head, “I know it’s going to be good.”

“That confident about your sexual prowess, huh?” It felt easier, safer to make a joke.

“Well, yeah. There’s that,” he hums with a half smirk, “But it’s you and me, kid. It’s gonna be good. How could it not be?”

There’s something about his steadfast sureness that warms your chest.

“Can I tell you what I’m worried about?” He waits for your nod of confirmation before continuing, “I’m worried about how I am supposed to function afterwards. How am I supposed to just get up and go to work in the morning after I’ve had you in my bed? Because once I get to have you like that, I’m never going to stop wanting more with you.”

And there’s the longing again, that pull in your stomach. You want him too, you want him too.

You are comforted knowing that he has things that have been on his mind too, that you’re not alone. Even if the two of you are concerned about two different things. And it was only right that you let him in, you could be unreservedly vulnerable for him.

“Bradley, it’s been so incredibly good with us. But I’m so afraid that once we take this step, that all I am going to be thinking about is that we could have been doing this for years. That we could have had each other like this for years.” Even the idea of it hurts your heart, at the glimmer of the possibility that you could have gotten to this point with him sooner. “And I don’t want to have any regrets about the way our story has gone up until this point. But I especially don’t want to have any regrets about missing out on time with you.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead in understanding.

“Let me ask you this then, would you trade any of it?” he asks as he slides a hand around your neck to tilt your head up to look at him, “Any of the adventures we had when we were younger? Or the weekend visits? Or any of the late-night milkshake runs for it?”

You knew the answer immediately, “No. No, I wouldn’t trade a thing.”

“Then we’re right on time,” he promises sincerely as he skims his thumb along the line of your jaw. “We’re right on time, sweet girl.”

It’s so perfectly Bradley, the way he knows exactly what your heart needed to hear.

And all the extra pressure you had been feeling releases from your body because it’s Bradley.

It’s just Bradley. It’s just you.

It’s just you and Bradley.

It’s been that way since you were kids.

You’ve had him as a friend. You still have him as a friend. But you also get to have more.

Of course, it’s going to be good.

Of course, it’s going to be right.

Of course, there were going to be what if’s. It was inevitable.

What you weren’t going to do is let yourself dwell on what-could-have-beens or regrets because you have him here and now. And that is more than enough.

It’s everything.

You untangle yourself from him to stand up as he watches you apprehensively. Waiting to see what your next move will be.

Standing in front of Bradley, you hold his gaze as you find the zipper on the side your little red dress. All concern leaves his face as you draw it down slowly before him. He doesn’t blink as you let the silky fabric skim down your body, puddling at your feet. And then he is looking at you with open awe and longing.

Stepping out of it lightly, you confidently make your way to the stairs towards his bedroom.

“Well, are you coming?”

PART 2

Not to worry, friends! There is more to come! After all, we have to find out what happens once she goes up those stairs!

To those who like to spice up their life a la the Spice Girls, I’ve got more headed your way (and by more, I mean smutttt)! I have a taglist, so let me know if you would like to be added!

I wrote this as a birthday fic for the one and only @gretagerwigsmuse! (Surprise! See I can be sneaky, even if you already knew about it, haha!) It may be a little late, but I hope it was worth the wait!

Mood board for Part 1

(This is written for part of my ‘Like I Can’ series. You don’t need to read it first, but you might want to. It’s pretty cute! You can check it out here!)

You can check out my other fics here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @soleilgrec @keyrani @chicomonks

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x you

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cmkren · 1 year

Text

“He Loved Me, He Loved Me Not.”

For a man such as himself, he couldn’t express the emotions he felt, even if he wanted to. It was a matter of being unable, not knowing how than not wanting to. Or maybe it was a little bit of both. Chishiya could only hope that the one he loved wouldn’t see him any less for it— because it’d only sting more considering that he, for once, was trying his best to be (somewhat) emotionally available.

But maybe he had realized that all just a little too late.

a/n; exploring his character a little! A little bit of one-sided pining, mentions of past relations between Chishiya and reader, messy plot, messy in general ‘cause I haven’t written like this in three years— g/n! reader (hopefully), mentions of unhealthy behaviour, the neglectful kind + pre-borderlands relationship but chishiya reflecting during borderlands when he sees you again during beach arc

What did you expect, getting into a relationship with him? What had drawn you in, pulled you in so close? Close enough that he could plunge a knife into your heart so deep he could tug it right out from the other side? What did you expect?

What did you expect.

Before the whole borderlands shit show, Chishiya had you in his arms every day. Every other day. Maybe weekly. He thought he had expressed his affections rather often, but according to the other party they barely saw him. There had been a conversation between the two of you about this, a conversation where he willingly sat and listened. Nodding his head, looking like he caught your words as soon as they left your mouth.

Maybe that was one of the reasons. How he seemed so good at listening, as if he was hooked on to every word you said, actively listening every time you spoke. In a sense he did. At the beginning, that was.

Everyone knows how things are at the beginnings of a relationship. Where couples are tied to the hip, all lovey-dovey and happy looking. As if they solved all their problems and were sure there would be none to come their way. You and Chishiya were no different, but of course he showed this newfound affection he held in his own unique way.

Never the biggest fan of pda, so he kept the touching behind closed doors. Even then, his biggest way to show affection was just sitting down and spending time with you. Listening to how your day was, and you prying out the same from him as he reluctantly shared.

That was just how your relationship was— and he liked it that way.

Until that ‘honeymoon phase’ started to slowly fade. Like it always does. He started spending less time with you, barely saying anything to you unless he needed something.

It was strange, how things switched up so quickly with him. He even went radio silent a couple of times, not really responding to texts or calls. Most he would give at times to a message is a one or two word answer. No matter how good a partner someone could be— anyone would start getting anxious about what was going on.

The final straw came when he didn’t say anything at all for a whole month. Maybe even reaching two months.

It was crazy. How could you be completely detached for a whole month like that? You never even caught a glimpse of him, got a single text or call. He must’ve been deliberately ignoring you.

Unfortunately, he had been.

He had no idea what came over him, but he just couldn’t talk to you. The workload at the hospital was only an excuse he could barely tell himself as for his own behaviour. As if he was justifying it.

But after a while, a string of texts finally got his attention. It’s all pretty blurry to him, but he just remembered dropping whatever it was he was doing to go over to your place. Unfortunately for him, a stroke of bad luck decided to follow him as he walked across Shibuya Crossing.

It was the day he found himself in this sort of dystopian version of Tokyo.

Maybe that’s why he found himself staring at you from a distance— there wasn’t really… actual closure. At least for him. With the raging party by the pool, you seemed to be having some fun with new friends you made during your time here.

Chishiya was known to be a confident guy, a bit of a prick but in a way he had a right to be. He was intelligent. But he could never bring himself to go up to you again. Not after how he left things on such a sour note.

He liked to think it was both his and their fault. Their fault for falling in love with a man like him, and his fault for loving you just as much. Maybe even a little more.

Perhaps that’s why he subconsciously distanced himself at one point. Did he think that was the right move? To move as far away and close himself as much as possible to protect them from an asshole like him? Someone who couldn’t even share how his day at work had went?

At the end, it didn’t matter why or why not he did certain things.

The fact of the matter was, he hurt you either way. Maybe this was how he loved. By pushing them as far as possible, holding himself accountable. And maybe this was how he balanced his life. From the shitty things he did every day, maybe he deserved it. Deserved never being able to make love last.

“Chishiya— Chishiya!”

The taller woman beside him had snapped her fingers right against his ear, making him turn his head just the slightest. Kuina stared back at him, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards just a little. A slightly incredulous smile on her face, “what’s with that expression? You look like you just got dumped.”

He knew she was exaggerating so he let out an amused scoff. Slowly, his eyes trailed back towards the crowd, a quiet sigh leaving his lips.

Ah, he just remembered. Why he had been making his way to your place that day. The message that got him scrambling to his feet, finally waking up to reality.

It’d been a break up text.

It took that, something that finally spelled it out to him that his relationship was in jeopardy, to try to fix it. Remedy how much he had blatantly ignored his partner for the past month or so, absolutely refusing to even send a single message.

If it hadn’t been obvious yet— he still loved you. After 90 days of this place, he still loved you. You probably still loved him too, he presumed. That wasn’t just his narcissism speaking, there was no way they’d get over him so quick. No way.

No way.

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galdra-studios · 25 days

Text

Hi everyone!

Spring is here! Which of course in Denmark means it's time for the last annual snow storm ahah! Our poor flowers... Hopefully they will get the sunshine they deserve soon.

With a Kickstarter campaign looming on the horizon, most of our efforts right now are focused on putting together a great demo for everyone to enjoy. We've been working on the game for a while now and created a lot of content, but it’s when you connect all that content together to make something playable that the struggle truly begins xD

Here’s a little game development fun fact: There’s a saying when you make games, that making the last 20% of a game takes as much time as the first 80%, which is why you end up cutting 10% ^^0 We’re still only making a demo, so the things we cut now might still make it into the final version.

However, since we’ve already done this once before, we’re a lot more conscious about rating tasks as essentials and nice-to haves in case we don’t have time to finish everything. For example, a pretty CG image showing a scene can-be temporarily replaced with descriptive text and the story will still make sense, but a character needs to have at least one sprite, otherwise it will just be empty air talking - not ideal ^^

One of the most time-consuming art tasks we have is creating the player character sprites. As the player’s representation in the world, they are basically on-screen in every scene, and therefore need to be of the highest quality.

For the original Arcadia Fallen, we ended up redrawing the female body type three times to make it perfect, but that was also because my art skills improved while we were working^^0 This month, I’ve drawn expressions for the androgynous body type and I fear I might repeat the same pattern again, because I still think I can improve them. That will have to wait until after the Kickstarter though.

For now, the sprites are in the game, which is a good milestone to be at. I’m not sure we’ll have all three body types ready for the demo, as there are other tasks that have higher priority, but the plan is to have the same three body types with two hairstyles that we had in the first game by the time we’re ready for launch!^^

Another cool thing we worked on this month is the player’s dorm room. Josefine did a wonderful job designing a room that changes depending on who you choose as a roommate. Can you guess which one is Soren’s and which is Nina’s? :P

Jesper is in full swing composing music for the demo, so here’s a sample with this month's header image speed paint!

That’s about it for this month, so we’ll just leave the pre-launch page for our Kickstarter here if you still haven’t seen it. We’re almost at 200 followers!^^

Thank you so much for following our journey! And we’ll see you in May for another DevLog!

Cheers!

- The Galdra Team

#arcadia fallen #visual novel #kickstarter #indiegame #vndev #vn development #indiedev #galdra studios

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lokius-took-my-soul · 6 months

Text

So this is a “little” analysis of one of Loki’s big changes this season (there are a lot but I’m focusing on one)

2012 Loki was told he lacked conviction and all told that’s correct. He was wishy-washy, he changed sides. Sometimes he didn’t even seem to know where he was headed. Our TVA Loki was just the same- slacking off at the TVA, ditching the TVA for Sylvie, getting drunk on Lamentis, the whole fighting Alioth thing..? Wanting to spare He Who Remains. That man didn’t know what he was doing. “It varies from moment to moment.”

Loki now? This Loki is full of conviction and is very goal oriented. His first goal was to find Mobius and as soon as he succeeded he was ready to do whatever it took to stop He Who Remains and Mobius had to talk him into the detour of fixing his time slipping. After that his next goal was Sylvie- which I believe is related to his end goal to stop He Who Remains and save the TVA- he saw her in the future in the TVA and was hoping she knew more about what was happening.

And once that became his goal he didn’t hesitate- refused to get a drink, and stayed in total control, only stopping to comfort Mobius. And once they found Sylvie and that she didn’t know anything? Well after she left Loki gave up on her and focused on his goal of stopping the TVA from being destroyed and he stuck to that, went right back to Mobius. And onto his next goal of finding Miss Minutes.

He was all business at the Fair, more so than even Mobius. He wanted no distractions only getting momentarily startled by the Diorama and then he went right back to it. Look at how absolutely terrified he was when he first saw Victor. And the end when they found Victor and brought him back? He didn’t even hesitate with Sylvie until she spoke to them and then went right on through the time door without waiting for Mobius.

This is not a Loki who lacks conviction and changes sides. This is him drawing a line in the sand and picking his side. This is Loki becoming the character with the most conviction in the entire show? Mobius? His world was shattered, and he’s running with things as best he can but he’s cracking. Sylvie? She accomplished her goal and now seems a bit lost, she wants to be done with everything but keeps getting drawn in. Ravonna? Oh she has a goal but as we see it’s more nebulous. Rather like 2012 Loki. Miss Minutes? Same as Ravonna but creepier. B-15? She’s trying but she’s got a lot on her plate and is playing a balancing act.

Loki is absolutely focused and determined in a way we haven’t really seen before. I think there are a few reasons behind this:

1. TVA has become a home with people he cares about and who treat him as a person and not a God or a Prince or a monster

2. He is terrified of destroying the multiverse. He’s trying to change and doesn’t want to cause destruction anymore. He definitely holds himself partially responsible for what happened with He Who Remains and absolutely does not want to be responsible for the end of everything

This is a Loki who is not looking for a throne or power but might well end up in charge of the TVA

#loki season 2 #loki #mobius #lokius #loki x mobius #loki series #gentleman wizard #and his butler

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

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Drawn Together 17

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, spanking, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The night sees you in much the same trap as the one before. You’ve appeased Steve. For now. You know deep down, it won’t last. That it won’t be enough. Not in the end.

You sleep in the white satin he chose. He embraces you from behind, his hand cradles your chest as his breath whispers across your scalp. You’re suffocated by his warmth. You don’t move, the only time you’re truly alone is when he’s asleep.

You close your eyes to keep the tear from slipping past. You wiggle your nose as it tingles. The night breeze rustles the tree outside the window and carries the chirps of lively crickets. The song of the night is in disorder just as those that play in your head.

“Middle C,” the order comes and you set your hands just so. “Very good.” Professor Zemo praises as he flicks the metronome into a steady beat, “Begin.”

You hear the melody before your fingers pluck it out. It’s that magical sensation that overtakes you. The way your body moves naturally to create the music. As if it’s a part of you. You smile as you read the music, following along as the world pinpoints to the keys and nothing else.

“Posture,” Zemo squeezes your shoulder.

You fix your position and keep on, not missing a note. His hum underlines your symphony as you proudly play. He stays close by the bench, hand lingering on your sleeve, rubbing the fluttery fabric between his fingertips. You follow the highs and lows until you reach the end, hitting that final key with a flourish.

“You are improving,” he moves to stand behind you, close so that you feel the heat of him radiating around you. His other hand rests upon your second shoulder. “My dear, I must confess you are talented, if not the most talented student I’ve ever taught,” he bends and your skin pricks. What is he doing?

He presses his lips to your crown, “when you play,” he speaks into your hair, “you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

His hands wander down your blouse and he hooks beneath your arms. Your hands tamp down on the keys in surprise, a clatter of ugly notes all at once. He cups your chest through the layers of frills. You don’t know what to do so you do nothing. What can you do? He is your professor.

He pinches a button between his fingers and slowly undoes it, then another, and another. You shiver as he opens the front of your blouse. He stands straight to guide your sleeves down your arms. He steps closer and something hard presses to your back. You put your chin down as your lip trembles.

Coward.

You squeak as your eyes snap open. There is no relief to be found in waking. It’s not a dream but a memory. You feel a squeeze on your chest and your heart leaps into your throat. That speckling flame razes up your neck and across your cheeks. A furor you cannot bear.

You tear Steve’s arm away and push yourself out of the bed. You fall onto the floor, crawling away desperately as panic thrums against your ribs. Your arms shake and you fight not to collapse into a heap.

“Sweetheart,” Steve groans, his deep tones laced with fatigue and confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you stop and turn over, sitting on your bottom, “I just have to pee.”

You don’t move though. You can’t. You sit against the footboard and smother your mouth to keep your shallow breaths quiet.

“Hurry back…” his voice drifts off to a snore.

You shake your head as your eyes sting. You haven’t cried about this in years, so why now? Why do the ghosts have to come back and haunt you?

🌹

A rush of cool air flows over you as the blankets are torn away. Your shallow sleep cracks as you mutter cluelessly and fall onto your back. You squeak as you find Steve staring down at you, a hand planted on the mattress as he leans on one arm. You squeeze your legs together and cross your arms.

He caresses your shoulder, toying with the nightgown’s strap, twisting it as his fingertips brush your skin. Little specks of heat linger as he follows the lacy trim along your chest. You hold in a breath quivering at the intensity of his gaze as it trails his touch.

He pulls your arm away from your chest and the other slips down limply to your side. You’re paralysed. You’re too afraid to resist him as you watch his eyes. They are dark and distant as if possessed.

“You’re so sweet,” he tugs down the soft satin cup. You whimper as he bares half your chest. He cups your tit, fondling you as he groans. His thumb rolls around your nipple and you shiver. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’ve been good.”

He gropes you as he purrs and slides down the bed. He stretches his arm up and lifts himself to his knees. He forces your legs apart and settles between them. His other hand traces along your thigh as he lets out a deep breath.

He kneads your chest as he slowly bends. You’re terrified as his hand crawls beneath the hem of your nightie and inches it up. He spreads out on his stomach, keeping his arm snaked up your torso as he pulls your leg over his shoulder. He bows his head to nuzzle the front of your panties and you twitch.

He hums and squeezes your chest again. A warning. You grab onto his thick arm as he inhales you and presses his nose against the cotton. The vivid ink that stains his skin contrasts with your own. You grip him tighter as he hums, sending a ripple through you.

Your breath hitches as he wiggles his head against you. A damp heat permeates the front of your panties and he tickles you through the fabric with his tongue. His saliva soaks through as he pushes the cotton against your folds, suckling through the layer hungrily.

He traces his fingers down the crease of your leg and drags your panties to the side. His cool tongue meets your hot cunt and you gasp. His nails dig into your skin as he blindly gropes your chest, thumb catching on the slack satin.

You're helpless. Just like before. Too weak to fight. You just let it happen. You wince as the sheets brush against your bruises. What else can you do? He's not hurting you. Yet.

He laps between your folds as your legs quiver. You close your eyes as your grasp drifts down his arm, reaching weakly for his head. You feel completely exposed to him. You want him to stop but the flick of his tongue has you spasming. He swirls around your clit so that a pluck coils in your muscles.

You’re completely disarmed as spreads his tongue wide and tastes you. He slowly drags his tongue up and back down. Your thighs tingle as he seals his lips around your tender bud and the sudden pressure has you writhing. He groans as he uses the tip of his tongue to tease you.

Your back arches as you push your thigh against his head. His beard tickles you, another wave rolling through you. It’s too much and not enough. You want him desperately to stop yet fear that he will.

You moan and sink your head back in the pillow. Your hips rock as he flutters his fingertips along your ass, adding to the storm of sensation. Shame bubbles with something else. Something hotter. Irresistible.

You cry out as you lose control. As you succumb to him. No, he’s conquered you. You surrender in a spasm of delight, mewling between heavy puffs as you clamp your thighs around his head and twist wildly.

He doesn’t stop. He drinks you in desperately as you cum. He keeps on until you can’t. Your legs splay and your arms fall down limply. You lay quaking and whimpering as he sucks and licks at your cunt. He does so noisily rubbing his beard against your sopping cunt until you whine.

“Please,” you squeal as you reach for him, lifting your head dizzily, “please… Steve…” His eyes flick up as he swipes his tongue around your clit, “sir… I can’t… I can’t take…”

You drop your head back down as your hips jerk. Your voice swells out of you, blooming into moans and drones. You feel it again, the tempo building and building, until you can’t stand it. Your nerves scatter again in a violent chorus that has you clawing at the sheets.

He does not relent. Even as you writhe, even as you push on his head and beg. Please, please, please.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #drabble #drabble series #au #tattoo au #drawn together #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #steve rogers x reader

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celestialmilfs · 1 year

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Classroom Blues

Character: Melissa Schemmenti Word count: 3,310 Warnings: Car accidents, panic attacks, PTSD Genre: Hurt/Comfort Rating: T

Description: Tires screech against pavement, shrill and cruel. Aluminum crunches. Glass shatters. Every single kid stops what they’re doing. --- It’s never been so frightening to look out the window

“That’s looking great, Noah!”

You smile over his shoulder, and he beams back at you before returning to his crayons.

Second graders are so easy to please.

You walk past him to get a look at everybody else’s paper plate dinosaurs. Nathan’s is breathing fire. Tyrone gave his a little princess crown. When you asked, Jamila said hers is ‘a apatopasaurus’ and that she refuses any further comment.

Fantastic work, overall.

It’s looking mighty fine outside too; the day is stretching into afternoon, and the sun blazes into the art room, etching on the walls the shadows of the easter bunnies the first graders had made last week.

The clock is slowly ticking towards two, and you’re only fifteen minutes away from a hot McVegan — no tomato, and two hours of the Good Place. Jamila lifts her hand as high as she can and speaks before you can even get to her.

“I’m all done,” she says. Her apatopasaurus is made of three plates instead of one, and the legs have pink pipe cleaners for both claws and a tongue. There’s a little tear drawn beneath its googly eye.

“Oh, wow.” You turn it around and smile at the glitter glue spots drawn on the other side. “This is really great, Jamila. You wanna help me put it on the—“

Tires screech against pavement, shrill and cruel. Aluminum crunches. Glass shatters.

Every single kid stops what they’re doing.

“Look!” Samantha yells and runs to the window. Half the class follows her, crowding in a line to catch a glimpse. God’s mercy that most of them are too short to see past the supply shelf. It offers you no such protection, though.

Just by the crossing outside, a black car is crushed against a DHL truck. Must have been going way outside the speed limit; you’re barely allowed to hit 40 out there because of the kids. The left side is completely collapsed around the truck’s hood, but you can see the driver just fine from here.

Dead.

He’s dead.

You snap into action.

“Hey, come on,” you say and start herding them away from the windows. “The ambulance guys will handle it, okay? Let’s get back to work.”

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears, like you’re speaking into a bottomless tunnel. The kids don’t seem to hear you either. More likely they’re just not listening because they’re eight-year-olds and most of them haven’t had time to even think about death yet.

They haven’t been to a funeral on a perfectly sunny day, just like this one.

Haven’t hung upside down by their seatbelt in a upended car.

Or seen how broken glass mangles a face.

Stop.

You blink yourself back into the here-and-now. Your knees are already beginning to feel weak, ready to buckle under the slightest strain.

Just breathe. Ten years of practiced technique, honed to perfection. Breathe.

For the kids, if not for yourself.

The minute hand on the clock ticks over to fifty-three. A few kids, the same ones who always put the watercolors back where they belong once they’re done, were kind enough to head back to their seats, but that still leaves you with eight children glued to the glass, watching the driver get dragged out of the car. He’s dropped onto the pavement. Someone’s trying to resuscitate. You can tell from here that it won’t work.

“Okay, I mean it this time.” You try to cover your trembling voice, to apply the gentle authority you’d seen Barbara pull a thousand times. They don’t move an inch. Maybe it’s the gulf of difference in experience, maybe it’s just Barbara being Barbara, or maybe they can tell that you’re afraid.

You sigh and peel the kids off the window one by one and escort them into their seats. Inelegant. Methodical. Your limbs function outside your jurisdiction in a world entirely of their own. When you bring your hand to hover in front of your face, it feels lightyears away, a limb puppeted without its master.

You can still feel crumbled glass embedded between the creases of your palm.

Breathe, damn it.

“Who was that guy?” Jamila asks even after you’ve sat her back down by her dinosaur.

“I don’t know, buddy.” You brush cardboard clippings off her shorts and onto the floor. The fabric is void of feeling under your prickling fingers. “But I’m sure they’ve called an ambulance. They’ll take care of it.”

Sure enough, when you glance at the road, Janine is buzzing around the truck driver, her phone already glued to her ear.

The bell rings at last. The kids yell out in joy and their wave of conversation washes you back ashore for a second. They grab their bags, forget their plates and stickers and markers, and are out the door in record time. They’re so excited.

You can’t tell them to slow down, to stop, even, until the commotion outside is finished. You can’t do anything but stand still and listen as their voices ebb away into just an echo.

Pills. Where are your pills.

You stumble to your bag and search it with trembling, unsure hands, like fingers against a jammed car door, dipping into the seams to tear the whole thing off if you have to. You throw your keys on the table, same as your wallet, your planner, your lighter, and a handful of stray pens; all of them in a heap that slips over the edge and to the floor. You turn the whole bag inside out, but can’t find the pill bottle.

Your chest is getting tighter, heavier, like the spaces between your ribs are stuffed with cotton, like you’re trapped under a ten ton truck careening off the highway uncaring of casualties.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

You can’t breathe, that’s the whole fucking problem.

The room is empty. Your only companion is the sun, and even she’s about to dip behind the buildings on the other side of the street.

You fall to your knees, grasping at the collar of your shirt, your fingers far too stiff, too jittery to undo one single button. You tear them open anyway. One flies under the shelf, like a body clean through the windshield. He said he didn’t need the seatbelt; it was such a short trip anyway. His legs were bent wrong six times over down in the ditch.

The world becomes muffled, stuffs your ears with ringing to keep you from hearing your own scratchy, frightened heaves for air. To save you the fear. The shame. You claw at your throat, at your chest, hoping you might dig out the chunk obstructing your windpipe.

You want to scream. So much. You’re mentally holding yourself by the shoulders, begging yourself to keep quiet. You’re in a position of authority. A child sees you like this, it’ll go down to the parents and you’re in trouble. Abbott’s in trouble. You can’t afford that.

You remember the mud staining your shirt when you’d crawled out, your leg broken and your face dripping with blood. You still don’t know if it was yours. Sirens, nearby. A broken airbag. A broken neck.

Blood.

You back up against the wall and your head bangs into the bricks with a sudden jerk, though the pain is nothing, nothing compared to—

A hand lands on your shoulder. You jump back in fright, your other arm flying to shield your face. Something hot drips down your cheek, but you can’t bring your fingers up to check, can’t trap yourself in that knowledge.

“Whoa, okay,” someone says. “No sudden touching. Gotcha.” The voice sinks like a rock into deep, dark water, far off and twisted. You can’t move to see who it is, who’s come to watch you in your weakest, most undignified moment.

“I’m gonna take your hand,” they say. “That okay?”

You nod, but the movement is stiff and thick with tension, just like the neckbrace they’d given you, after everything. You had a rash for weeks.

Your hand is enveloped by another, the touch soft, the fingers a little cold. There are rings right above the knuckles: two of them plain bands and one with a big, sharp stone on it. You squeeze the hand hard, hard enough to make the other person groan a thick, hefty ‘ow’.

“Okay. Think you could try and breathe with me? Doesn’t have to be perfect.”

The person doesn’t wait this time. They take a deep breath, exaggerated enough for even you to hear, and then exhale, like wind in the trees on a stormy night when nobody should’ve been driving in the first place.

Your attempt in following them is sad and broken. The air remains trapped in your throat, refusing to flow all the way into your lungs, no matter how you try to wheeze it in or out.

“Good, keep going.”

It’s not even remotely good, not even passable, but you keep it up anyway. In and out, but it’s more like i-i-i-i-in-in-in and ooo-out-o-ooout. This doesn’t deter the person sitting next to you, though. They keep their breathing even and deep, and you follow them, out of pace and rhythm in a one-sided dance where you keep crushing your mystery partner’s toes.

“You’re doin’ real good,” they say, and a thumb is drawn across your knuckles, soft and soothing, free of crusted blood or thick, soupy mud. “Just keep going.

Ain’t no point in rushin’ it, right?”

You do as you’re told. In and out. Your pained attempts slowly start to resemble what the other person is doing, more of a mirror than a reflection in disturbed water. The locked knots in your muscles start unwinding themselves open one by one, and you suddenly find yourself sagging forwards without control.

Arms wrap around your torso and your head knocks into someone’s clavicle instead of the floor. You’re shifted like a living doll into a more comfortable position and your nose buries itself into the nook between the person’s neck and shoulders. You inhale a lungful of syrupy perfume and papaya shampoo.

The clock keeps ticking. The rhythm anchors you, keeps you safely here on the classroom floor where there’s no cars, no highways, no forgotten seatbelts.

“That any better?”

Melissa Schemmenti moves her hand to your back to draw big, smooth circles into your shirt. You manage a dazed, exhausted nod.

The classroom is swimming back into view, bit by bit, color by color. Chairs abandoned where their occupants leapt out of them, craft supplies all over the floor. Tamir forgot his backpack.

“The kids—“

“Are fine,” Melissa says. Her arm slides off your back and around your shoulder instead. She squeezes you tight. “Janine and Gregory were on herding duty.”

“Ok,” you whisper. The clock ticks on, and your stomach dips when you read the face: ten past three.

“You wanna talk about it?” Melissa asks.

The scenery fades in and out, transforms into the woods by the highway and back into an elementary art class in disarray. A mess, both ways. You press your knuckles into your eyes and watch the sparks.

“I’m not sure,” you say.

Melissa nods and clicks open her phone. She shoots someone a text, though you only realize to look away by the time she’s about to write something to Janine.

“Thanks, though” you mumble into the crook of her neck. Your body is dipping straight past relaxed all the way into half-dead. Your fingers feel like spaghetti noodles.

Melissa huffs a laugh. “It’s no trouble.”

You sniff and wipe your cheeks. Apparently you were crying after all.

“How did you find me?”

Melissa puts her phone back in her pocket and you can feel her jaw tighten. She’s thinking.

“I was coming to check on the kids because, well. You know.” She waves her free hand toward the window. “I saw you go down. Fell right off your feet. Scared me to hell, you know.”

You grimace. “Sorry.”

“Pssh,” she says. “Like I said. It’s no trouble.”

You watch the splotch of sunlight, still persistently on the wall. Another hour and it’ll be gone.

You start to peel yourself off of Melissa, pausing mid-movement to wait for the ringing in your ears to ease up, and lean against the wall instead. Melissa, thankfully, keeps her arm around you for support.

“I was in a car accident,” you say.

Melissa’s brow shoots to her hairline when her head whips around.

“It was bad.” You rub your fingers together; a feeble attempt to get some feeling back into them. “I was sitting in the back and my best friend was driving. Her boyfriend was in the passenger seat.”

Deep breaths. In and out.

“They both died.”

“Jesus,” Melissa says, spits the lord’s name in a way that would make Barbara send both of you to sunday school. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Still.”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, hoping to buy yourself a second of time to stave off any further admission; words you know you can’t keep to yourself right now but ones you’re embarrassed to admit regardless. “I can’t even watch tv shows about that stuff ever since. Of course it would find me in the front yard.” You scoff. “Figures.”

Melissa sighs, soft and smooth, so unlike your own strained, barely calmed breathing. “Shit.”

You can’t help the smile. “Yeah.”

“You feeling any better?” she asks.

You give your neck a little roll, wiggle your fingers and your toes. “I think so. I don’t think I can walk just yet, though.”

“That’s all right. My dinner plans can wait a couple minutes.”

Footsteps draw your attention to the hall. Barbara appears in the doorway in her light brown jacket, her and Melissa’s purses both slung over her shoulder. She takes a quick look at you and then stares meaningfully at Melissa, posing a silent question.

Heat floods into your cheeks, your neck, your ears. It could’ve been Janine, could’ve been Gregory, even Jacob, but of course it has to be Barbara Howard, the singlemost composed person in the whole world, who stumbles in on you crying into Melissa’s shoulder.

Her divorce papers were recently filed, though, so if anything, she’s probably very familiar with the feeling.

Melissa mimes ‘five more minutes’ at Barbara, and there’s a silent battle of wills between them, a conversation you couldn’t even begin to understand, after which Barbara sighs with a smile on her face, bows her head and disappears back into the hall.

“You gonna get home okay?” Melissa asks you when the sound of Barbara’s heels has faded.

“Yeah. Usually I bike, but I think I’ll walk home today. I’ll be fine.” Melissa’s face dips into a frown as she very seriously doubts you. There’s no escaping that look, and it only takes you a second to start sweating. You wonder how people actually trying to fight Melissa Schemmenti aren’t immediately recuded to cinders.

“I swear,” you say, and draw a cross over your heart. Melissa smacks her lips and tilts her head as she assesses your woozy, bulldozed self. Apparently you aren’t shaking that bad, because when she straightens herself, she says, “Okay. But.”

You want to groan. A good sign. Your feet are a little closer to ground again.

“You text both me and Barb when ya get home. Is that clear?”

You lift your hand in a salute. “Crystal.”

Melissa laughs, a smoke-worn, throaty sound that pulls you another inch closer to reality.

“Keep that up and no Schemmenti leftovers for you,” she says. “Cheeky little shit.”

She somehow drags a laugh out of you, short and genuine and good, and it’s not like none of this happened, but it lets you put a band-aid on the wound at least.

“I think I could try getting up now.” You try putting a little pressure on your foot, and though your leg doesn’t immediately smack right back to the floor, it does tremble a significant amount. Heat crawls down your neck again as you ask,

“Could you, uh…”

“’Course.”

Melissa gets to her feet with a strained groan and a ‘fuck my fucking knees’, but manages to get herself standing. She offers you her hand and you take it, keeping your free palm firmly against the wall as she pulls you to your feet. It’s an unsteady operation, one that leaves you dizzy and winded, and nearly back on your ass more than once.

Once you’re safely standing, Melissa gathers up the contents of your bag and hands it to you, but only once she’s made sure that you can actually carry it. She holds you by the shoulders all the way to the hall, and doesn’t let go until the door has safely clicked shut. You still keep your hand by the wall, though. Just in case.

“I’ll have to come in early tomorrow to clean up,” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t even think about it.”

When you look at her, Melissa is staring you down with the intensity of three suns. Whole solar systems, even. You put your hands up in surrender.

“Only if you’re sure,” you say. It is a relief, you have to admit. Especially if you still have to run to the pharmacy to get your prescription refilled.

“Don’t you worry your li’l head about it.”

She walks you all the way to the entrance, where Barbara is still waiting with a paperback book propped on Melissa’s bag.

“All cleared up, then?” she asks.

“Yup,” Melissa says. Short and sweet. Barbara doesn’t ask any further question, though you doubt it’s from lack of interest. At least Melissa has a dinner story to share, if nothing else.

You all slip out the door, but Melissa stops you there. She looks you over, head to toe, her lips pursed and her hands fiddling with the strap of her purse.

“You sure about this?” she asks. “I could give you a ride.”

You fish your keys from your bag and close your fingers around the one meant for the lock on your bike.

“I’ll be okay. And I’ll text you.”

Melissa raises her brow.

“Both of you.”

The idea of sending Barbara Howard a text of any kind outside a professional environment feels like some kind of a breach of protocol, but Barbara herself doesn’t seem phased. Outward, at least.

Janine is going to lose her mind when you tell her about this.

A cool breeze slides under your thin shirt, and your arms erupt in goosebumps.

“I better get going,” you say, but can’t get yourself to walk over to the bike rack just yet. Your fingernail digs into the notches of the key, and you try to figure out something to say, anything that could put into words just how much Melissa has done for you in one afternoon. In the end, you decide to go with something simple.

“Thank you, Melissa.”

She looks amused, truly like she’s done what anybody else would have. Like it’s nothing. You wonder if she’ll ever know how much it means, even if you tried to tell her.

“Eh.” She shrugs. “It was no trouble.”

How perfectly Melissa of her.

“See you tomorrow,” you say, and with one final wave and a smile goodbye, you start heading for home.

Behind you, once you’re definitely out of range, Barbara turns to Melissa.

“What happened?” she asks.

Melissa watches you clear the crosswalk and waits until you disappear behind the Subway.

“I’ll tell you later, hon.” She presses a kiss to Barbara’s cheek. “First we need to eat. I am too fucking hungry to talk.”

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti,” Barbara gasps, “you watch that tongue of yours.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Barb.”

“Incorrigible,” Barbara mutters and heads for the car. Melissa doesn’t miss the smile on her face.

“Love you too.”

#Melissa Schemmenti #Reader #Melissa Schemmenti x Reader #Melissa x Reader #Abbott Elementary #Reader Insert

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celestial-specter · 2 months

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So I finally got around to watching the first three episodes of the final season, and I’ve got to say, I’m very intrigued by the addition of the three clone cadets! Most of my interest comes from their names- and since I haven’t seen anyone else discuss them yet, I thought I’d throw my own thoughts out there.

As we have seen in many star wars projects over the years, character names seem to be overwhelming literal, either revealing elements of their background, or foreshadowing their future (think how in Rebels, Kanan means ‘little wolf’, while his true name, Caleb, means ‘dog’, foreshadowing his link to the Loth wolves.)

Of course, we know that the clones either name themselves or have the name bestowed on them by their brothers (think of Echo getting his name). The trio of clones that we meet in Paths Unknown are named Deke, Stak, and Mox. There hasn’t been much information released regarding at what age clones typically receive their names, however in the Clone Wars episode Clone Cadets, we see Cutup take his name from a trainer who criticizes him for his attitude. As that episode focuses on Domino squad’s final training simulation before graduation, and that they all appear to be fully grown adult clones, it can be assumed that they are all around ten years old, the same age of most clones sent to war. Given that we see Cutup choose his name during this episode, and that Echo is struggling with his nickname and remembering Fives’ name, it suggests that Domino squad had only recently begun thinking about what name they would choose for themselves.

While we haven’t been given a definitive age for Deke, Stak and Mox they are all still clearly children. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t even have names by the time they were taken off Kamino, and had to create names for each other while trying to survive on the planet they were stranded on.

To begin with Mox, his is the name I could find the least amount of reference for. There seems to be three possible interpretations:

Mox is a type of fuel designed for use in nuclear reactors.

Mox is a shortened version of moxie, meaning ‘energy, courage, and determination.’

Mox is the Latin word for ‘soon.’

I’m not overly drawn to the first idea, but I can understand the second - as Mox is clearly the eldest and protective over his younger brothers, I can see him taking a name which shows that side of his personality. I also see Mox as a direct parallel of Hunter; both are the eldest brothers of their respective groups, and are both incredibly wary of outsiders due to their need to keep their brothers safe.

However, I much prefer the third choice. The idea that Mox’s name means ‘soon’ can have both good and bad implications. For starters, Mox is clearly the most emotionally conflicted throughout the episode, unsure of his place on the mission, and of his place once they leave the planet. Hunter assures him that he has time to consider being something other than a soldier, and Mox offers his hand to Hunter. This action could be foreshadowing that soon, Hunter himself will be able to retire from this lifestyle, by finding Omega and Crosshair. Alternatively, Mox’s name meaning soon could be a very bad omen for the batch, as it could foreshadow the clone cadets being used as leverage against them (I’m thinking this could come into play when the empire attacks Pabu if the cadets are there).

Moving on, the word Deke was originally coined by Hemingway as a shortened form of the word decoy. We do not see him act as a decoy in any way during this episode, so I believe it is solely to foreshadow future events. Considering the many parallels drawn between Deke and Tech during this episode (e.g. Stak dubbing Deke ‘the smart one’ and Deke almost falling to his death in the base) his name meaning decoy only makes me more convinced that Tech is still around in some capacity (even if that capacity is just his body being used for cloning experiments).

Finally, Stak is most commonly considered to be an old version of the word stick, which makes sense when you consider the basic stick-based weapons that the cadets carry, and Wrecker’s first words to Stak and Deke when he meets them: ‘Blaster beats stick, kid!’ Knowing that the Star Wars writers love foreshadowing, this comment has me thinking things might not end so well for Stak. Interestingly, another link I found while researching this is that Stak is a common phrase in the Rogue Trooper series, in which a war is fought between facist Norts and democratic Southers (you can already see the obvious parallels to Star Wars here). In the series, in an attempt to win the war, the Southers create genetically engineered soldiers, but only one, known as Rogue, survives. Even more links involve one of the main stories of this series being titled ‘The Marauders’, and each one of the genetically engineered soldiers having a bio-chip in their body. While not a direct link, these coincidences do make me think there is a direct link between the two medias, it is possible that there is a fan of the Rogue Trooper series within the team behind The Bad Batch.

Either way, I’m very happy to finally be getting some explanation into what happened to the young clones who never saw the battlefield during the clone wars - though I am a little concerned that their worth being tied to their unexplored identity as soldiers could lead to them taking risks in further episodes in the hopes of proving themselves.

#star wars tbb #star wars analysis #star wars spoilers #star wars the bad batch #star wars #sw tbb #sw:tbb #sw #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch theories #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch #tbb mox #tbb deke #tbb stak

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zerkenik · 2 months

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So, here are my Chara, Asriel, and Monster Kid designs for my AU (6 Feet Under)

MOST OF THE AU’S STORY UNDER THE CUT :^)

So, I changed some stuff up with some of the characters– so Monster Kid’s there around the time where Chara and Asriel are. (Frisk is in this AU, but I haven’t drawn out their design yet).

STORY

Chara actually wandered off from home after being left unsupervised, which ended up with them wandering around Mt. Ebott and eventually tripping and falling into the underground. They ended up falling directly into Toriel’s garden in the ruins, where Asriel happened to be doing his daily chores (watering flowers, clipping vines before they mix in with flowerpatches they shouldn’t be mixing with, etc.)

Chara’s fall didn’t really end up being cushioned by flowers, it was kind of cushioned by Asriel. They both definitely kind of got hurt by the fall, but it was probably better that Chara fell on Asriel instead of nothing. Asriel brought Chara to Toriel, where they decided it’d be best to keep Chara with them in the house and care for them as if they were Chara’s own family.

Going from an only child to someone with a 6-8 year old sibling was a huge change (Asriel’s around 12-13), but he didn’t really have any friends (besides Monster Kid), so he was actually glad to have someone in the house that he could hang out with! (Sure, Chara’s like 4 years younger than Asriel, but that’s basically his little sibling now. Plus, Asriel’s used to being around younger kids because Toriel’s a teacher in this AU!)

Chara ends up staying in the underground for a while and they weren’t really a well kept secret in the Dreemurr family, as much as Asgore wanted people to not know about Chara, because they kind of just let them run around Snowdin however they wanted. (As long as Asriel was with them)

This is around a time where Alphys and Gaster are experimenting with determination with the rest of their team of scientists, which is sourced from human souls they gathered during the war. Human souls were originally being gathered so they could bring up the strength of Asgore’s army, but the war ended before they had the chance to properly test any of it. With some research and experiments, Gaster decided it was safe to inject determination into the bodies of monsters. Unfortunately, his dumb ass was WRONG!! Symptoms only started showing up later, late enough to where monsters were sent back out to their families and it was out of the team’s hands. (They never found out they could use human souls on the barrier lol, they were more focused on the rest of their research)

Gaster was one of the first subjects of his own experiment and once the symptoms began showing up, he almost immediately brought his team in to start trying to come up with anything they could make to stop the determination from further spreading through monster’s bodies.

It actually started to evolve in the bodies of those injected, making it spreadable through anything that could possibly allow an infected monster’s bodily fluids to enter the body of another. The monsters that were used as Gaster’s test subjects began noticing symptoms, starting with some common flu symptoms, slowly devolving into their bodies losing shape. Most of those monsters lived in New Home, aka the capital. New Home was highly populated, making the sickness spread FAST once it started spreading.

Asgore went to Gaster the moment he found out, spending less time with his family and more time in the lab. Mettaton’s robot body ended up being made so they could send someone out to get more information about the sick monsters’ symptoms. Instead of just having a show, Mettaton became more of a news reported. It’s not what he wanted to do with his life, but he was satisfied with helping in whatever way he could.

Gaster brought up the idea to get another human soul to conduct some research on, to see if it could be used in any possible way to deal with the illness. They’d used just about every human soul they’d gathered from the war for their previous experiments, and he decided he’d need a new one.

Asgore got an idea, he had a “EUREKA ☝️💡” moment. So he went to Toriel and explained the situation to her, trying to convince her it’d be for the best and that Chara’s not her real child anyways, so what would it matter? Of course Toriel wasn’t happy, she was pissed beyond belief. They ended up having a whole argument over the matter, somehow entirely forgetting that children are really.. REALLY nosy.

Chara and Asriel ended up listening in, which led Asriel to come up with a plan. He packed his and Chara’s things and fled towards Snowdin, where they ended up hiding out at Grillby’s for the time being. Grillby himself had just moved down from the capital, where his daughter ended up staying for college. He ended up contacting Toriel pretty quickly, to which they both made the agreement to keep Chara and Asriel down in Snowdin until things blew over. (Yippee new parental/family figure!!)

Spoiler alert! Things did NOT blow over :^(

Toriel ended up using the Ruins as a place to quarantine the sick, mostly keeping the sick children happy while trained medical professionals actually took care of the sick. A lot of monsters didn’t like the idea of shutting themselves off in the Ruins, so a lot of people ended up moving down to Snowdin, where a lot of doctors had been staying.

The guard ended up short on people because of the illness, and the royal guard ended up being broken up into a few groups of people.

Doggo, Greater Dog, Lesser Dog, Dogamy and Dogaressa, and Papyrus made up the guard of Snowdin. (Once Papyrus joined the guard, Sans ended up volunteering at Grillby’s to help make and deliver food to the sick monsters in the Ruins and Snowdin.)

Aaron (the horse enemy dude) is part of the Waterfall guard. His job is to keep watch of who’s leaving and entering Snowdin, while the other parts of Waterfall’s guard keep watch of other entrances to Waterfall.

Those two gay guards (whatever their names are) are part of Hotland’s guard, keeping watch of everyone coming through. The only people that are really allowed in Hotland are scientists and people who do check-ups on the CORE. (The MTT hotel is a thing, but it’s mostly used for scientists and such to stay in while conducting check-ins on the CORE or working with Gaster.)

At some point everyone’s losing their shit, because NOBODY has access to the true lab portion of the lab, because Gaster’s isolated himself in the lab. His own illness ended up to the point where he decided it wouldn’t be safe to let his team come near him, and then was just. He was Gaster, what more is there to say? (Said with silly intent)

There’s more business in Snowdin than there was before, and it’s more populated than New Home was. (I might draw it later :^))

Okay this is getting really long and that’s just about it, but i’ll give some more character designs really soon i SWEAR :^)

(heehee i hope you guys like it ive spent way too much time on it.. like, it’d been beint worked on since last year)

#6 feet under AU #undertale au #undertale #undertale fan au #undertale alternate universe #undertale chara #undertale asriel #undertale monster kid #undertale fanart #undertale au art

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kyberblade · 2 years

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Back To You (Din x Reader) - Part 5

A/N: We finally made it through episode 2x1/9!!!! This is the most episode heavy part, and I apologize for that. I guess spoiler warning if you haven’t seen the show? Lots of dialogue from the show. Future parts won’t be this episode/dialogue heavy.

(This takes place right where the other one left off and goes right to the end of episode 2x1/9, The Marshal.)

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Cobb Vanth is…. Himself.

Word count: 5,364

As always, thanks to @grippingbeskar for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

Xxx

Vanth explained how he came to have the armor as your little party sped across the desert. He may have been a flirt and a bit rough around the edges, but you felt yourself warming to him slowly. His heart was in the right place, and what he did was selfless and brave. If anyone was going to do anything while wearing Mandalorian armor, this was the right use for it. He was just protecting his town and its people. You’d like to think you’d do the same, given the circumstances.

Pulling into a canyon, you both slowed the speeder bikes down, when suddenly there was an ominous, echoing howl that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. It was low, almost a growl, and unlike anything you’d ever heard.

Holding up his hand in a motion to stop, Vanth pulled to the side in a sweeping move, situating his speeder between him and the noise, so you followed suit. Din was already off the speeder with his rifle drawn and braced on the seat by the time you made it off the bike. Scrambling behind him as the canyon walls echoed with the eerie cry, the sand seeming to want to swallow your feet and keep you from moving efficiently, you glanced at the child in his satchel seat on the back as you perched behind Din’s shoulder.

The child whined softly before withdrawing into the sack to hide, making you swallow roughly, your eyes turning toward where the sound was growing louder just a few yards ahead.

Glancing to Vanth, you saw his rifle drawn, you heard the safety click off, and motion out of the corner of your eye drew your gaze back in front of you. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen, a four legged creature with menacing jaws that you had no hope of describing any further past that. It’s menacing aura taking up the whole of your focus. More of them step out from behind the rocks, and you lose count after three.

Out of nowhere, Din lets out a bellow from deep in his gut, the sound echoing off the stone walls. The creatures freeze, turning to him curiously, and you’re sure you do much the same.

Setting his Amban sniper rifle back on the speeder, he got up and walked around the little shelter it provided, gesturing with his hand to wait when Vanth began to protest. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to say something, too. To keep him there with you, safe behind the tiny cover the bike gave, hidden in its shadow, or to grab your own blaster at your hip and run along beside him. But you trusted him.

Walking out in front of the beasts, he grabbed something out of a pocket on his belt, and you realized it was one of the child’s snacks. He had gotten one out at the cantina what felt like a lifetime ago now. Glancing over to the kid, you saw him leaning back out of his satchel, and when he noticed the cookie in his caretaker’s grip, his eyes narrowed accusingly. The corner of your mouth twitched up the slightest bit at the exchange before it faded back to a thin line as your focus returned to the Mandalorian.

After more exchanges of what you could only call grunts, the creature happily ran up to him, making you take in a sharp breath, holding onto it until you processed that the creature took the snack, and was contentedly groaning as Din rubbed its side fondly. All the other creatures in the pack seemed to relax as well, and it seemed the disaster had been avoided, until three tall robed figures emerged from behind the rocks.

You may have never left Coruscant before, but you knew enough to know these were Sand People. Tusken Raiders. The nomads who survived in the harsh wilds of Tatooine for centuries.

Once again your breath is stolen and refuses to come again as you take in the newcomers, a breath you didn’t know you were holding escaping as Din rises to his feet slowly and begins to converse with them in the same strange grunting language. He begins to gesture with his hands in precise, calculated movements, and you realize it’s part of their language. You’re not surprised he knows this, it’s a fact you’d know for a while that he knew multiple languages. But you were still in awe as you watched him, something akin to pride swelling in your chest as he calmly conversed with them.

“What’s he doing?” Vanth hissed at you, eyes never leaving the situation, same as the aim of his rifle.

“He’s helping,” you smiled as you continued to watch the exchange. They echoed his sounds, hands gesturing back, a back and forth.

“Hey, partner, you want to tell me what’s going on?” Vanth said a little louder, directing his attention toward Din.

Turning toward your companion, Din spoke calmly. “They want to kill the kryat dragon, too.”

After another brief exchange with the Tuskens, Din made his way back toward the speeder, stopping to rub the creature's head one last time, making its back leg thump in ecstasy.

“We’ll follow them to their camp, stay there tonight while we discuss terms, then go see the kryat in the morning to make a plan.”

Vanth let out a scoff, but obliged all the same, stowing his rifle away on the bike and getting back on his speeder.

“Can you teach me?” You asked Din suddenly, making him pause as he tightened his rifle back down.

“Teach you what?”

“Languages. Well, right now - not right now right now, later - specifically what you were just doing with your hands,” you gestured with your own hands in a poor imitation of it before waving it away like a bad smell. “I don’t think I can do the whole grunting thing, but-” you took a deep breath, your excitement getting the better of you. “-in general, I want to know how to speak to people we meet.”

Vanth let out a snort over the roar of his speeder. “Did you catch all that?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes before looking back at Din.

“Yeah, I did,” Din said, and you could have sworn he was smiling under the helmet. “I speak her language.”

Xxx

You sat to Din’s left by the fire in the Tusken camp. He sat up on top of a crate, the child between his feet with the crate at his back. Vanth sat to his right on a low bench, looking extremely uncomfortable in the company of so many Tuskens.

You watched in amazement as Din conversed back and forth with them yet again, a faint smile on your face.

They pulled out two small dark melons, pushing their thumbs into them to break them open, and an opaque steam rose up from the contents. One was handed to Vanth, one to yourself, and you took it with a smile, not wanting to be rude.

Vanth sniffed his briefly before mumbling to Din, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You drink it,” Din said simply.

Hearing this, you shrugged, taking a deep breath, and took a sip. It didn’t taste great, in fact, it didn’t taste good, it was dubious, but you swallowed it, lowering the melon held in both your hands slowly down to your lap. Trying to suppress a violent shudder, you plastered a small smile on your face, letting out a quiet, delayed, “Mmmm…. Interesting.” Looking up toward Din, you saw him looking at you, as well as everybody else, but the tilt of his helmet showed his amusement at your reaction.

The kid was looking at you with a somewhat disgusted face, and you filed that away for later, finally finding something he didn’t want to eat.

“Well that sold it,” Vanth muttered sarcastically, looking away from you and staring at his own melon. “It stinks.”

“Do you want their help?” Din asked dryly, shoulders somewhat hunched as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees with a sigh.

“Not if I have to drink this.”

After that it turned chaotic, the Tuskens becoming angered at his refusal, and Vanth shooting accusations right back, even tossing his mellon into the fire, angering them further, and Din caught in the middle having to translate between them.

Finally, Din stood up, fire blasting from his vambrace, and everyone stilled, except for the child, who looked up with wide eyes and cooed happily.

He brokered a truce between them, ending with, “Now how do we kill it?” as he used the hand signs in their language to benefit both parties.

After more back and forth, though much calmer this time around, the Tuskens retired for the night, going to various tents around the camp.

Vanth let out a groan, scrubbing his hands down his face as he slumped further into the bench behind him and the sand beneath him, hands parting to hold his face on each cheek, giving his head a gentle shake. His eyes were wide as he stared into the fire with a look you’d seen people walk into your bar with one too many times. You wanted to lend an ear, but something about him was asking for space, so you stayed where you were.

Turning his face to you, Din sighed, turning on the crate he sat on to fully face you, once again sitting with his elbows braced on his knees, leaning in closer to you. Turning where you sat in the sand to face him, you mirrored his stance with your crossed legs, smiling as you settled your chin on your fist.

He let out a huff of laughter before sighing. “Well, that was something.”

“I’ll say,” you agreed. “Also, I had no idea you could shoot fire out of your vambrace, so I’ll ask again, where does it all go?”

He chuckled. “I can do it with both of them.”

“Showoff,” you mumbled, glancing over to check on the kid, finding him poking at Vanth’s discarded melon sitting on the ground near the fire.

Din turned his head to follow your gaze, moving to reach out toward the kid and stop him, but you put your hand on his arm quickly, shushing him. He tilted his visor at you for a second before turning back to the kid.

The child tentatively poked the melon, becoming braver when nothing happened. Reaching out he pulled it towards him, rolling it off of its side, and a thin wisp of the opaque mist wafted to his nose, making him take a deep sniff, then promptly gag, shoving the melon away with vigor, backing himself away at the same time.

You and Din both burst out laughing. The child startled at the sound, looked and realized he was being watched, he started crying, letting out little pathetic whimpers.

“Oh, buddy,” Din said through chuckles, scooping the small green child into his arms, unable to stop his laughing.

You took the kid from him, holding him close as he pouted, and you mimicked the face. “I’m sorry, bud. We weren’t laughing at you. Vanth just told us a really funny joke right at the same time, didn’t you, Vanth?” You turned your gaze up to the Marshal slowly, narrowing your eyes at him to play along.

The child looked to him with teary eyes, sniffling, and Vanth’s wide eyes looked between you and the child as he remained silent, looking somewhat shell shocked from the whole day of events. One hand cradled his chin, covering his mouth, and the other supported it across his chest.

Slowly, Din turned his head to look at Vanth, and the Marshal’s eyes grew impossibly wider before he nodded vigorously, arms lowering to his sides, leaning his weight around nervously. “Yeah. Oh yeah. Hilarious joke. Horrible timing. So sorry, little guy.” He cracked a nervous grin before his eyes darted back to the Mandalorian, a sigh of relief leaving him when Din gave a brief nod, his eyes closing, hands coming back up to cradle his face once again.

Xxx

You rode atop banthas the next day to get to the kryat dragon. A long line in front of and behind you. Glancing back at the kid where he sat in his satchel on the rear of the creature showed he was more than okay, looking around at everything contentedly.

Turning back to face forward, you winced. Squinting in the sun, you let out a groan. “I don’t want to complain, but….”

Sitting in front of you, reins for the animal in his hands loosely, Din prodded you on. “But….?” He turned his head to the side to look at you in your perch behind him.

“I need to be in front whenever we go places here. Your armor is too reflective, it’s giving me a headache.”

“You’re telling me,” Vanth muttered from his bantha behind the two of you, making you smile. Looking over your shoulder to see him, he was squinting with a hand held out in front of him in an attempt to block some of the excess light. “It’s like a third sun.”

You snickered, turning back, burying your face into his cowl and turning your head to the side so you could watch the dunes pass by without the beskar glare, resting on the worn material. “Plus I’m kinda terrified your jetpack is gonna go off and roast me,” you mumbled, making Din chuckle.

“That won’t happen,” he said softly, amused, one gloved hand coming to rest on your hands where they met, clasped tightly around his abdomen, in comfort. His thumb began to lightly trace your knuckles, almost absently, and you sighed into the material you rested against.

Taking a deep breath, you held it for a moment, realizing the material smelled like him. Of course it did, you thought, rolling your eyes at yourself as you let the breath out. But after another brief moment of thought, you turned your head just slightly inward, tucking your nose in just a little bit more, and took normal, steady breaths.

“You okay up there, darlin’?” Vanth’s teasing voice lilted behind you, making you clench your jaw at the intrusion.

“Just fine. Thanks, Marshal. But you really should stop staring at the sun, didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not good for you?”

Vanth chuckled. “Always was a slow learner,” he teased.

You could feel Din’s laugh at the exchange vibrating his cuirass under your hands.

His head turned just a bit to look down at you, still looking out at the vast sea of sand, and if anyone asked Vanth to put money on it, he would have bet the Mandalorian was smiling.

Xxx

Pulling back into Mos Pelgo, the three of you were quiet. Well, four including the kid, but he was asleep in his sack on the back of the speeder.

Seeing a kryat dragon, that same kryat dragon eat a Tusken, then finding out just how big that kryat actually was would do that to a person, you guess, smiling wryly to yourself.

Vanth began to explain how they had been attacked by Tuskens, and they had fought back, taking down twice as many, climbing off his speeder as he spoke. It didn’t sound like he was trying to justify anything, in fact it sounded like something he didn’t really want to admit, and this made you tilt your head slightly at him in thought.

“The town respects you. My guess is, they’ll listen to reason,” Din said from behind you, both still on the speeder.

Vanth poked at his speeder absently, smiling down at it, before looking back up toward the two of you. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” With that, he turned and went into the cantina.

You could hear the buzzing of voices from inside, the town having gathered to hear what the Marshal had to say.

“I need to go in there,” Din said softly, climbing off the speeder, and turning to face you.

You swung one leg over, sitting on the seat with both perched on the same side, one knee resting lightly against the side of his thigh plate.

“Stay with the kid.” You both turned to look at the back of the speeder where two little tips of giant green ears poked out of the top of his satchel. “He’s asleep this time so he shouldn’t be much trouble.” His voice sounded amused through the vocoder.

“Shouldn’t being the key word, there,” you teased, earning a huff of laughter, and a gentle shake of his head.

Din placed a hand on your knee that rested against him, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.”

The two of you stared at one another for a moment before you remembered you should respond, so you nodded.

With one last squeeze to your knee, he turned and followed Vanth into the cantina.

Leaning against the speeder, much like a few days before when the kid had performed a disappearing act, you sighed, looking around the small town with a new appreciation. These people were stubborn, but they fought for what they had. They worked for it. Nothing came easy, and they didn’t expect it to. Back home on Coruscant, you just had to worry about looking over your shoulder in certain parts of town, especially the lower levels where the bar was. Here, they had to worry about a giant dragon. You’d found a new admiration for the people of Mos Pelgo.

You heard shouting from the cantina, the townspeople in an uproar about something. Glancing over to see the kid still snoring away in his seat, you decided to go poke your head in and see what the fuss was about.

Leaning on the archway, like you had days before, it was a bit of deja vu. Din was standing in front by the bar, making a speech to try and sway the crowd. Only this time, unlike before when he had been threatening Vanth, he was speaking calmly, stating the facts, and the people were listening.

You couldn’t help but admire how he was handling the situation. If it were you, you would probably be yelling back by now. And there was an off chance there would be tears, as well, for no good reason.

He had command of the room, held everyone’s attention, and left no room for questioning his words. You had no doubt some of it was the novelty of a Mandalorian being the one speaking, being something out of stories for most, but there was no question he himself was good at this. Something akin to pride swelled in your chest, and you felt your lips twitch upward in a smile.

These last few days he kept showing you something new, something fascinating, and you couldn’t wait until this whole dragon thing was over so you could talk to him about it.

As everyone filtered out of the space after coming to an agreement, you stayed in the doorway, shoulder leaning against the stone, arms crossed over your chest, and a smile climbing your face as Din walked up to you.

“What?” He asked, his voice almost reluctant, like he was scared to know, making you chuckle.

“Nothing. You’re good at this.”

“At what?” He scoffed, his tone incredulous, even through the vocoder, and his weight shifted to one side.

“Talking to people,” you said softly, pushing off the wall and reaching out to pat his pauldron. “You should do it more often.”

His helmet tilted at you, only making your smile brighter.

Vanth just happened to be passing by at that moment, and snorted out a laugh as he passed, Din turning his tilted helmet on him, his gaze following him for a few paces before turning back to you.

Xxx

The suns beat down on you as you sat on the porch in front of the small building, people busying themselves around you, readying explosives for the kryat.

Din and Vanth emerged from the building, walking up to stand behind you. Din was so close you could feel his legs just barely at your back.

Looking up, you saw they both were looking out at the horizon, so you turned your gaze that way, rising to your feet and standing next to Din. Just cresting over a dune you could see a line of banthas approaching, carrying their Tusken warriors who would help against the kryat.

Looking around at the people of Mos Pelgo, you took a shuddering breath as animosity began to fill the air, and it pressed on you like a heavy weight against your chest.

Din must have noticed because his hand came silently to your back, resting in the middle of your spine, just as a soft presence.

Turning your head just enough to the side to see him, you mumbled a thanks, feeling his thumb trace a small line along your shoulder blade in recognition.

You felt something bright, something happy and joyful trying to come into your mind, like a pinprick among all the hate currently flooding you from the people. Looking over to the speeder, you saw the kid peeking just over the edge of his bag from his nose up, his wide eyes on you. When you met his gaze, the pinprick broke like a dam and began to flood everything else, bleeding light and happiness into all the dark. Relief washed over you, and the corner of your mouth twitched up in the smallest of smiles.

You pushed what you hoped was thanks toward the child, and it must have worked, because his head popped up just enough that you saw his little smile, then his eyes began blinking heavily. You felt guilty as you watched him fall asleep again, the waves he sent calming, but you were able to hold onto them, use them to keep out the rest. He was getting an extra special snack later.

All went well until a Tusken took an explosive handed to him by a townsperson, fumbled it, and it dropped to the ground with a thud.

While the man began to freak out, yelling at the Tusken, you intervened, stepping in front of the Tusken as Vanth stepped in front of the man. You signed to the raider that it was okay, you would take care of it, using the gestures Din had been teaching you since you asked at the canyon. Vanth pushed the man back, explaining it was an accident, repeating himself until the man stopped, turning away.

Picking up the explosive and handing it to the Tusken waiting by the bantha, you nodded as you passed it off, the raider returning the gesture. Walking over to stand between Din and Vanth, you let out a breath as you stared ahead vacantly.

“It’s gonna be great,” Vanth said sarcastically, a smile to match across his face.

Xxx

You’d been back and forth over this desert more times in the last few days than you’d ever thought you would be in your life.

Pulling up to the kryat’s lair once again, the atmosphere was tense, as everyone stood and stared at the gaping hole in the mountain, waiting.

A lone Tusken approached the mouth of the cave, and you wished you were that brave.

“What’d he say?” Vanth whispered when the Tusken began to signal back towards the group.

“He says it’s sleeping. If we listen carefully, we can hear it breathing.” Din spoke calmly, but you could hear the slight edge to his voice. He was worried.

You swallowed. “That’s not creepy.”

Vanth let out a soft snort at your sarcastic remark.

A Tusken extended one of the disgusting melons towards him, and he almost pulled a face before schooling his features like a pro. He took it in one hand, looked at it with something similar to regret, before straightening his spine and taking a large sip. Pulling it away from his lips with a grimace, he struggled to swallow for a second, finally doing so loudly, barely concealing a shudder as he did. Looking you straight in the eyes, he mimicked what you had said when you drank yours around the campfire the night before. “Mmmm…. Interesting.”

Lips quirking up in a grin, you gave him a single nod, which he returned with a grin of his own twitching up one side of his face.

“Let’s get to work.” Din said simply.

Pulling you to the side, Din lowered his voice to keep the conversation private, his helmet tilted down to look you in the eyes. “I need you to stay with the kid. This is really dangerous, and I don’t want anything to happen to either of you.”

“Then why are we here?” You asked, somewhat annoyed, hands on your hips.

“Because I can’t protect either of you if you’re somewhere else.”

You softened your voice, hands dropping to your sides. “Din, I can help.”

“It will be a help if you watch the kid.” His tone was sincere, but then it turned playful, making you let out a scoff. “It’s the most important job. And most dangerous. That kid is trouble.”

You finally let out a snicker at his comment, shaking your head and gently pushing him toward the cave. “Go. Be a hero.”

“I thought you said ‘don’t be a hero’?” He was walking backwards toward the group setting everything up, keeping his focus on you. His arms slightly spread in question.

“Yeah, well, I’m learning things.” You waved him off. “Telling you that is like telling your armor not to be blinding.” You held a hand up to block the glare off his beskar to prove your point.

Chuckling, he shook his head as he turned and began to jog to the mouth of the cave.

Once you got back up to the ridge where the speeder sat with the kid in his satchel, now wide awake again after a nice long nap, you pulled him out and set him in front of you. Sitting cross legged on the sand, he plopped down where he was across from you, tilting his head and letting out a small squeak.

“Okay, kid. We’re going to try meditating. Because I don’t know what else to do right now. But just in case….” You pulled your blaster out of its holster and set it on your lap, ready to grab if you needed to do some dragon slaying.

“Close your eyes….” You did as you said, peeking one eye open after a few seconds to check on the kid, and finding him doing the same, one eye peeking at you. When he saw you spying on him, he let out a squeal and quickly closed his eyes again, making you giggle.

“Deep breaths….” You fully opened your eyes, watching them take care of the setup of the explosions, minding your breathing all the same. Glancing over to the kid, you saw him furrowing his brows in concentration. One of his eyes peeked open at you, finding you not even remotely doing what you were saying to, and both his eyes flew open, an indignant squeak flying out of his chest.

“Fine, fine….” You huff, turning back to him, sighing, and closing your eyes. One last peek proved neither you nor the kid trusted each other to follow through as you both were spying on the other.

Xxx

You had watched the entire thing unfurl from your spot at the speeder, somehow miraculously safe, even though the kryat had changed positions several times.

Both you and the kid had promptly given up meditating in favor of perching behind some nearby rocks to watch it all.

When Din had gone into the dragon, you had stood up immediately, watching as your stomach sank. You told yourself you’d be able to tell if something was wrong. You’d sense it. Right?

You let out a loud breath when he had flown out of its mouth, electricity shooting everywhere from his rifle, then detonated the explosives, finally killing the dragon.

He skidded on the ground very dramatically as he landed, making you roll your eyes, but you still found yourself running to him, the kid tucked quickly into your arms.

Sliding down the dune toward him, you were about to hug him, but at the last second stopped, realizing he was covered in dragon stomach goo.

“Why would you do that?!” You cried, adjusting the child in your grip. “You wear beskar, you’re not made of it! That could have gone very badly!”

“But it didn’t.”

You huff at his simple response.

“What happened to you learning things and telling me to be a hero?”

“That was before I realized it meant doing something so stupid!” You huffed again while he let out a chuckle. “I’m just glad you are okay.” Your voice had lowered, and you tried to breathe and calm your nerves.

Xxx

The kid was admiring a giant piece of meat off the dragon that sat on the back of the speeder, looking at it like it was a treasure.

“Sorry, I didn’t have time to explain,” Din said as Vanth approached, Mandalorian armor in hand.

“No need,” Vanth brushed it off. “This was well earned.” He sat the armor on the speeder.

Shaking hands over the speeder, Din replied simply, “It was my pleasure.”

You narrowed your eyebrows at him. If you hadn’t known him so long, you wouldn’t have noticed the slight sarcastic edge to his tone. He was parroting what Vanth had said to you the other day, when he had brought the cot.

But to your surprise, Vanth seemed to notice, too, smirking, before looking over at you with a wink. “I hope our paths cross again,” he directed at Din before walking away.

“As do I.” Din sounded sincere, and you were relieved whatever petty thing they had going on seemed to be brushed under the rug.

Vanth quickly turned back. “Oh, and you tell your people I wasn’t the one that broke that,” he said pointing at the armor.

Using the scarf the Marshal had given you to cover your face while riding on the speeder, you began to wipe down the front of Din’s armor.

“What are you doing?” He sounded affronted, pushing you away slightly.

You looked at him with an expression that said it should be obvious. “You’re covered in dragon digestion goo. I have to sit with you on the speeder, and since there is plenty of space,” you leveled a look on him, “and I don’t wear beskar, and that stuff kinda disintegrated a few of the others, I thought it would be a good idea to get rid of what I could before we go.”

He tossed his head from side to side as if weighing what you said before taking the cloth and taking care of it himself, stuffing it in his belt when he was done. Holding his arms out to the side, his tone was heavily sarcastic. “Happy?”

“You’ve no idea,” you deadpanned back.

Once again you found yourselves staring at the other for just a little longer than necessary, and before you could look away this time, you felt something flutter in your stomach at the thought.

Both of you melted into laughter before getting on the speeder.

“We should drive through the night, get this meat back as soon as possible. You drive first, then you can sleep while I drive.”

You nodded. “Sounds like a plan. I’ve got my Mandalorian pillow, so we should be good.” You looked at him over your shoulder with a broad teasing grin.

He let out a heavy sigh, slouching back in the seat as you chuckled before looking forward and hitting the accelerator. The kid let out a happy squeal as you sped off, the day quickly fading into sunset, and you felt like the next adventure was just up ahead, waiting for your little crew to find it.

Xxx

Tags: @ren-ni, @hoodedbirdie, @rennalouise, @kurlyfrasier, @what-the-heckin-heck, @deceiverofgodss, @Littleshadow, @nghtwngs, @yourcoolauntie, @queenmalhinewahine, @lam-ila, @jesseeka, @come-hell-or-eldren-fire, @creativeautistic What’s This?

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boundinparchment · 1 year

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Dream a Little Dream of Me - XXXI

Celestia has a cruel sense of humor. He’s always known this, ever since his days as a student. But a soulmate? Really? Dottore/Female Reader Soulmate AU. Lore speculation, interpretations, etc. Chapter is on AO3 here.

You woke to the sound of rustling leaves and the distant chirping of birds, the scent of fresh grass mingling with the unmistakable smell of something burning. Shooting upright, your head swam for a moment as you took in the moss-covered machinery and tanks, an overturned desk, and ruined sheets of parchment.

Where were you now? And why couldn’t you just be back in your bed in the inn?

Was this, too, another dream, another nightmare?

The last thing you recalled was your claymore, finally heeding you in a time of need, and the anguish on your soulmate’s face etched into his crimson eyes, before your swing failed and…

You felt the sheets beneath you, moth-eaten and damp, the mattress in even worse shape. Humidity clung to your skin and made everything heavy and sticky. You could move your fingers, your toes, and when you reached down, the moss was spongy and soft. The dryness in your mouth that was becoming more and more noticeable told you that no, this was not, in fact, a dream.

A dull ache sat behind your eyes. Dehydration, most likely. You felt like someone had dunked you into a lake headfirst and then wrung you out to dry.

Everything should have been straightforward after meeting him. This was tiresome, this back and forth, these games.

Games.

That’s all the other one saw you as: a game, an experiment.

Your head pounded even more, blood pressure spiking at the thought that you were nothing more than a toy, again. Acid licked the back of your tongue, sour and vile. What was it with those in power just taking what they wanted and doing as they pleased?

Why did your soulmate have to be someone so vicious, so cruel, that he would split himself and then do harm? Wasn’t there an oath against that for medical practitioners?

You willed yourself to your feet, swaying once as the world wobbled, and then made your way over to the scattered pieces of parchment and the upended desk. The wood was worn, cracked, and warped by both humidity and time. It had been this way for a while. Kneeling down, you picked up a note, the parchment discolored and rippled and the ink flaked. Mold on one corner was slowly making its way through the rest of the note. The text was illegible but not because of the rapid pen strokes and the splashes of ink; only a few characters were recognizable but not in a way that made sense to you. A list of sorts, either inventory or steps in a process. Squinting, you noticed a detailed sketch in the margins and an arrow with another scribble, emphasizing something.

You stood, shook your head, and then winced at the motion. What were you expecting? This place looked as if it had not only seen better days but that someone wanted it to be forgotten. Anything of value was already long gone, by the looks of it.

If that was the case, then you shouldn’t be here, either. There was nothing for you here.

“You’re awake sooner than I anticipated.”

Your shoulders rounded slightly, instinctively. The fire in your stomach was the only thing that kept you from crumbling entirely. Everything you’d waited so long for, hoped for, and this was the result? You looked over your shoulder, turning just enough to take in the sight of a familiar beak-like mask, hair the color of fresh mint, and a blue shirt that did not seem to be well-suited to the humidity. You hated that you knew, too well, what he looked like underneath; and yet you didn’t know him at all.

“And you’re nothing like I expected, Zandik, but neither of us can get what we want, can we?” you snapped, pushing through the pain.

His shoulders drew back and he cocked his head, silence prevailing. You turned, jaw tight, eyes burning.

“And yet you haven’t drawn your weapon against me,” he replied. “So there must be more you wish to say.”

“Nothing that wouldn’t be a complete waste of breath.”

“Try me, then.”

Your hand twitched before you ran your thumb over your calluses, seeking comfort in their presence, in their hardness.

“Everything I worked so hard for, everything I wanted to get away from, and you’ve ripped it from me. I know not everyone gets the best match in a soulmate but to get someone capable of building lies and illusions that play out as if they’re real? I’m so lucky.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care which of you did it. I want nothing to do with you. Any of you. I don’t want a soulmate who sees me as a toy that can be used however they please, as if I’m not my own person.”

The words were sharp around your tongue and they landed as you expected them to, with little impact or effect. You hated that, be it from the years of genuine dream-sharing or the most recent events, you knew the corner of his mouth would twitch, that he would shift his weight and cross his arms, gesturing his words with a casual wave of his hand as if this were any other conversation.

“You’re free to leave. I’m hardly keeping you restrained here against your will. If you think you can defend yourself from the Rishboland tigers and the Eremites and the Withering, let alone my Segment, then do as you please.”

He swept one arm to his side, gesturing behind him. The entrance had been there the whole time, obscured by foliage and branches, but hardly invisible.

“After all, you seem to be quite fine and know your own mind. One such as myself would never ask Celestia for a soulmate anyway. And even if I did, I would not have picked such a spiteful and emotionally inconsistent soulmate who cannot appreciate going beyond the limitations of this pathetic realm. Of all the things I do deserve, it’s someone who isn’t so small-minded.”

Neither of you said another word as you walked past him, pushing branches out of your path and splashing through stray puddles as you went.

He was right and you hated it. Not that you expected any less; he always gave as good as he got, but usually it was teasing, playful. A gunshot would have been preferable. At least then, there would be an end to the sickening knot in your chest.

_______________________________

Sumeru City felt different when you arrived. The path under your feet, worn and welcoming, gave way to paved stone as the Akademiya and its Tree loomed overhead. That stupid Tree and its winding paths was the only indicator you had to the direction you needed to go and it took you the better part of the morning and afternoon to get there.

As you walked through, you saw ladders and tangles of flower garlands being taken down, petals drooping and falling in the process. The streets smelled sweet, the same way Petrichor smelled during the autumn rains; the unmistakable smell of decay. The Sabzeruz Festival was over and it was time to return to normal routine. More than once, you caught children dancing, emulating the dancer you recalled from practice, their parents gushing about the performance.

You’d missed it.

The very thing that you’d stayed behind for, that rescued everyone from your pushback against the Akademiya’s stupid policy.

Another thing, ruined.

If you never came back to Sumeru again, it would be too soon.

When you arrived at the inn, you were just as surprised as your manager, their entire table decorated with invoices and schedules. You were gone long enough to miss the festival but not to miss everyone traveling out of the city.

A whole lifetime in the span of a few days. The knife in your gut twisted itself this time.

Supposedly, according to your manager, you’d been on your way to Fontaine, having decided to take up your patron’s offer after all. You bit your cheek as you were handed a letter sent on your behalf, the handwriting this time unmistakable, and you apologized for both the confusion wrought and for your unexpected presence.

“I got halfway there before I remembered I’d left for a reason,” you explained. “And it would leave the orchestra in a lot of legal trouble to boot, if the rumors of new legislation and fines are to be believed. I’m sorry for being so short-sighted.”

The apology felt more hollow than you made it sound. The burden did fall to you. After all, it was your soulmate, your connection to someone so selfish and arrogant and fragmented, that others were put in less than ideal positions.

But you couldn’t exactly say that.

The words came easy, just as they had years ago, in that office before you became intimately aware of how intricate the carpet’s pattern was. At least here, you only ran the risk of garnished wages, perhaps extra duties in packing and coordination; fair but understandable punishments.

There was one more performance, your manager said, and then you would be onto Port Ormos for the next leg of the tour. If you were up to it, you could perform. Your very bones ached with need, to feel the bow in your hand and the stringers beneath your fingers.

No dream could ever do that justice.

_______________________________

Your instrument is a familiar stranger beneath your touch. Your sole companion all these years and yet it felt as if you’d never held it before. Warm-ups and scales took a moment, your fingers slower than your brain, and by the end of the afternoon, you’d all but split your fingertips open. How you’d missed that ache, the one that sat in your joints, in your tendons, that told you of a song well-played.

Your colleagues did not ask more than necessary but their eyes said what their lips did not: you left with no notice, no intention of coming back, and you do not deserve your place here.

Perhaps not.

All were ecstatic to be moving on, spoke of nothing but the festival, recounted to you how marvelous Nilou’s performance had been. The Sages tried and failed to stop the performance but it continued on anyway. No one cared much for the politics of it all. If anyone wanted that level of nonsense, they’d have become an administrative assistant for the Fontaine Research Institute. Their words never quite reached you, however much you smiled and nodded and lamented that you missed it.

You wanted to feel as they did, excited and passionate and reinvigorated. You told yourself that if you just immersed yourself, you would, that this, too, would pass.

Pulling the bow across the strings that evening was no different than any other time. As you went, however, you found that with every note, you seemed to pull yourself along with it; a thread undone, unraveling. Vibrations that once felt comforting could only remind you of a familiar rumble of a voice you never wanted to hear again. Instead of wrapping you, the notes felt like hands around your throat, squeezing until all that was left was the sharp gasp as you drew the last high note across the strings.

The audience was just as enraptured as you expected, smiles wide, eyes damp.

You tried to ignore the flash of white out of the corner of your eye, the tell-tale glow of blue crystal from the dark recesses of the performance hall. Exhaustion haunted your very soul; perhaps you were hallucinating. It would hardly have been surprising.

No, you told yourself, watching the crystal earring as its owner titled his head. You were not.

And the glimpse of red eyes, watching you like a wary raven, held little more than rapt attention.

Not the Segment, you surmised, your gut knotting itself. Despite their identical appearance, your brain knew the subtle differences, the way emotion never quite reached the stranger’s eyes as it did Zandik’s. Whatever he was, he could never be rid of that; to do so would be to remove the shreds of his humanity.

But who were you to know him, really, when all you’d known was a figment of subconsciousness?

_______________________________

The afterparty was as though you were watching a moving film, your colleagues and acquaintances actors on a silver screen. Food tasted like sand despite the beautiful colors and mouth-watering scents. You opted for water over wine but you were certain all you would taste would be vinegar anyway.

Conversations consisted of nodding, interjecting as you observed others doing. An attempt to fit in, the way a leaf already yellow would cling to its branch, unwilling to let go and fall away from its verdant brethren. You had already witnessed this, and more; to be here felt stagnant, static, strange.

Motions to be repeated for the sake of them, nothing more.

You had been here before, of course, before you learned to navigate your patronage. But there was no comfort in this, no safety. Eggshells had become glass shards and every step in this world you once knew the path of was as painful as the first time you snapped a string and it slapped you in the face.

Sleep was no better.

A dark abyss, thoughts circling like carrion birds until everything floated away into nothingness.

You woke to early sunlight, your vision blurred, tears unspilled and pooled in the corners of your eyes. Not even a sensation of falling disturbed your slumber. In any other circumstance, you’d be grateful for the peace, for the chance to know a good night’s rest for the first time in an unidentifiable frame of time.

Nothing about this was ideal, felt right, and laying in bed wouldn’t solve it. Your cello was packed away already. Catharsis would have to wait.

You dressed for the day and slipped out of the inn, Vision tight in your hand until you could feel the metal housing pressing into the skin of your palm. As you wove your way through the city, the merchants still waking and setting up their wares for the day, a flash of green and white caught your eye. Not the little sprout from your false life, surely?

Now you truly were beginning to doubt your own mind.

Around every bend, every curve and rise of the pathway, you caught a glimpse of a skirt, or a cowl, or the flick of a ponytail. For a moment, you were back in the fields of Fontaine, chasing other children, always just out of reach to tag and pass along the curse of being ‘it’.

You arrived at the top of the Akademiya, at the set of doors all too familiar now, imposing in their beauty. Just as you rounded the corner, you caught green eyes, bright and vibrant, before they disappeared into the dark seam between the doors.

The last time you were here, it’d been under false pretenses; without any kind of authority, you could be arrested for trespassing, or worse. But what other path did you have?

You slipped between the doors, your very being swallowed whole as you entered the Sanctuary of Suristhana for a second time.

#dottore #il dottore #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x female reader #dottore x female reader #soulmate au #fic: dream a little dream of me

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probablyautism · 6 months

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trick or treaaaaaaaaat (i promise i saw your ask too btw, i just wanted to make sure i get in my knocks before the event is over)

(It’s ok no need to worry)

I choose trick

Prepare yourself

I’ll only give you two to kept this brief

Xane

He’s just a happy little ghost boi really (despite not actually being dead however he does wish he was , not in a suicidal way tho) xane doesn’t actually talk and will try to sign what he wants to say but the sheet he wears gets in the way sometimes. The face on his sheet was actually drawn on by his best friend, Elijah (I want to change his name to something cooler but I have no ideas) xane is an orphan although he’s been quite happy the way he is, he was placed on the doorstep of a haunted mansion as an infant and two married ghosts took him in as their own; the ghosts of the mansion were skeptical about taking in a child who’s species is unknown. Xane is happy with his life in the rickety old mansion and he loves the ghosts who haunt it like family although quite often a kitsune exorcist named rin will try to exorcise them (he means good but this is xane’s family he’s not going to let them go into the afterlife just yet). Xane is quite the shy individual and mostly keeps to himself but he loves hanging out with his friends although it can be bit scary sometimes given the kind of adventures they go on but they’re exciting nonetheless. He is 13 years old, 5’2”, his favourite food is ice cream mochi, he loves spiders however he doesn’t like dogs (they are cute but so loud) or anything noisy

2. Elijah

this guy’s the main character. He has quite the bit of trauma compared to xane but hey 🤷‍♀️ it’s not an OC without trauma. Elijah was raised by his strangely young single father who is now dating a new guy he met 🏳️‍🌈🥳 (Elijah isn’t to fond of him at first but quickly changes his mind once he sees how much happier his dad has become) Elijah knows nothing about his mother although he is a angel/demon mix (cringe Ik he’s one of my oldest oc’s ) and his father is a demon one would assume his mother is an angel but when he asks his father says she was the devil, beyond any imaginable evil. And 1. That’s ominous 2. He’s not wrong tho. His father often disappears ant night and returns injured sometimes, Elijah has never really asked questions until recently. He got curious and he did find out more about his mother and his father but he dragged his friends into the crosshairs of a war between two mafias one of which his friend is actually in. Shit just spirals out of control from there. I haven’t come up with a definite storyline yet but I know it’s going to be hecking stupid. Elijah is also 13 and he likes skateboarding and cats however he doesn’t like the cold as he is cold blooded (a rare trait among demons) and like most his saliva is heavily acidic like it can melt through metal his father also possesses this trait but doesn’t use it because spitting on people is gross. And like most angels his halo is hotter than the sun but thankfully it doesn’t act like a radiator nor is it radioactive. It will just kill you if you touch it. However the owner of the halo is able touch theirs just fine.

this was not brief

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 2 years

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songs you associate with gojo from jjk???

so i know you said gojou but thinking of songs made me think of other characters so this became a multi-character post fjndsjkfn but either way, i hope you enjoy it and get some new songs (i added links to them as well) to enjoy if you haven’t heard any of them yet. reblogs appreciated! and because i’m a slut for people telling me they like my taste in music... please validate me if you like any of the songs jsdnkjn

gojou satoru | 五条悟

sem filtro: entra nesse quarto sem a intenção de ficar. não vejo problema em não querer se apaixonar

“enter this room with no intention of staying. i don’t see a problem in not wanting to fall in love”

he’s just a hookup. if you had to pick someone to love, it definitely would not be you’re arrogant and overconfident coworker. you’re not good for each other either. but despite the clear boundaries you’ve placed on your, for lack of a better word, “relationship”... part of you craves him more and more as the days go by and he somehow filters into your daily thoughts. that cloyingly sweet latte from your favorite café? that’s satoru. the rare star poking out past the light pollution? that’s satoru too. you remind yourself there’s nothing more that you desire from your annoying coworker time and time againー yet you can’t deny the sense of loneliness that permeates when you wake up and see he isn’t there

okkotsu yuuta | 乙骨憂太

meu talismã: ei, você ainda não percebeu. depois do que aconteceu, só sobrou nós dois. agora é só você e eu

“hey, you still haven’t noticed. after what happened, there’s only two of us left. now it’s just you and me”

you practically had to drag yuuta back in from training one particular afternoon. you admired his drive; it made you want to work harder than you already did, but there had to be a line drawn somewhere between working hard and working yourself to exhaustion. you gave his arms and hands a thorough massage, pressing light kisses on every knuckle and then his palms before he cupped your face with one hand. even a long bath didn’t complete soften the calluses yuuta had accumulated over the years and yet no one held you as tenderly. you kissed his palm once more before he guided your lips to his.

nanami kento | 七海建人

carolina: carolina, preciso te encontrar. carolina, me sinto muito só. carolina preciso te dizer. ô carolina eu só quero amar você

“carolina, i need to find you. carolina, i feel so alone. carolina, i need to tell you, oh carolina i just want to love you”

it’s one of those nights where the window’s open and your lover is stir-frying vegetables for the meal he has planned while your playlist shuffles on. the peace in your apartment is over when you hear the distinctive deep voice of seu jorge play through the speaker. despite kento’s protests, you still manage to tug him away as the baritone lyrics play on. you sing along lightly, grinning at the exasperated amusement dancing in his spinning you despite his previous reservations. nanami kento is serious, stoic and blunt to most of the world yet you have the privilege of seeing this side of him. your singing slows as you lean forward to kiss him- sniff sniff ah fuck something’s burning

fushiguro megumi | 伏黒恵

会いたいわ: ただ抱き合いたい。ただキスがしたい。ただ手を繋いで。そばにいたい。この想いが永遠に続くように。今夜 one more night

“i just want to hug you. i just want to kiss you, just holding hands. i want to be with you. may this feeling last forever. tonight, one more night”

if someone told you one day you could merely send a “hey, are you awake? wanna come over?” text to fushiguro megumi at 3 am and see him promptly afterwards, you would have asked if they were sane. now here you were, relishing in the comfortable silence as you spooned on the couch. the tv was playing some sort of late night show, but you long since stopped paying attention as megumi pressed soft kisses into your shoulder and the juncture between it and your neck. “someone’s affectionate today” you tease softly. megumi paused with a grunt, hugging you tighter. “i missed you is all” he murmured a moment later

itadori yuuji | 虎杖悠仁

wusyaname: you pick a spot, i pick a tail number and we could be tourists. let's go to cannes and watch a couple indie movies that you never heard of

an impulsive love always on the move. you’re well past the honeymoon phase, yet it feels like every time you head out together you end up having some sort of adventure. your favorite memory with yuuji was a date night gone wrong. you made reservations for a restaurant and mixed up the times. rather than let you beat yourself up the rest of the night, yuuji tugged you over to the nearest food truck before taking you to the aquarium owned by his friend junpei he had the keys to. it wasn’t a fancy reservation, but somehow eating in the middle of an empty aquarium with your boyfriend was ten times better

#headcanons #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #megumi x reader #itadori x reader #nanami x reader #yuuta x reader #this was really fun #fnkdsjfndf i'm sorry to my fellow english speakers most of the songs are foreign #but i translated them so it's fine #japanese or portuguese speaking followers please.... befriend me

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quality-street-rat · 2 years

Text

I Know

MDNI, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Attack on Titan fic, Levi x transmasc reader, angst, canon character death, canon-typical violence and injury, reader gets fucking isekai’d lmao, breeding talk/no actual breeding, reader wants babies but not like that

Object Resonance, def: The psychic ability to touch objects or people and receive information spanning all five senses about them

AGAIN, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Edit: I can't believe I have to say this but antis DNI too

Levi sat across from you, steely gaze boring into you while his fingers tapped nervously on the table. You knew it was nervous because you were also touching the table, trying to ignore his staring while Hange talked excitedly in your ear.

What does Levi Ackerman have to be nervous about? You wondered fleetingly before your attention was drawn once more by Hange’s findings. They surprisingly talked to you most during dinner, being too absorbed in training and science most of the day. The only things they really said to you in the lab were related to their experiments on you. The Freak, Levi called you sometimes. You knew he didn’t really mean it. Your Object Resonance told you at least that much. Maybe he knew that you knew, maybe he didn’t. He kept saying it anyway.

You liked to go outside and watch the sky after dinner most nights. It comforted you a little, knowing that some moon, if not this moon, shone in a different sky back home. How you’d gotten here, you had no idea. You mostly chalked it up to a half-baked isekai plot, but in real life. The Object Resonance was new, though you had been closely following Attack On Titan for a while before your…arrival? Appearance? Didn’t matter. You knew what was going to happen, but…you couldn’t bring yourself to change anything. If one thing changed, everything else would, and then you wouldn’t know what would happen next. So you…pretended, that everything you knew was based on your Object Resonance.

“Cadet.” Levi sat down next to you on the bench, staring up at the sky.

“Not your cadet,” you laughed softly. It was an exchange you’d had a thousand times, Levi insisting on calling you a cadet despite being fully aware you weren’t an official member of the military, instead documented as a “consultant.”

The comfortable silence stretched for a good ten minutes. Levi began tapping his fingers again after the first five, and finally spoke.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” You turned to look at him. It was 842, and he looked as stunning as he always did. The timeline was a little different, you’d realized, given that Levi joined the scouts earlier than you’d guessed. That being said, you’d always known he was beautiful, but you’d kept your mouth shut for a long time about how you felt. He had other things to think about.

“Yeah.” Levi seemed to ponder, his face still turned upward. You watched his side profile with silent admiration.

“Take your time,” you teased.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, but smiled ever so slightly. “I. You haven’t been here for very long. Only a few months. And. I understand quite well the…gender thing you and Hange talked about. It took me a while to realize, and…I know that I’m not the best at talking to people. But.”

The silence dragged on.

“But…?” You prompted.

He turned to look at you, gray eyes somehow soft and intense all at once.

“Y/n…” he breathed. “I think…I think I’m in love with you.”

You leaned back immediately, a sad look overcoming your features.

“No,” you said gently. “No, you don’t.”

“What?” Levi’s brow furrowed.

“You think you do, and I hear you saying that,” you went on, “but you don’t. And you can’t. I’m not meant to be here. We both know that. And besides…you want someone else.”

“Oh really?” Levi growled. “And who might that be?”

“Excuse me?” Levi’s voice was angry now. “How could you possibly say that?”

“I’ve touched you before,” you reminded him. “When we met, and shook hands. I know. You love someone.”

You smiled sadly.

“Not me.”

“Touch me then,” he demanded, holding out his hands in an almost supplicating manner. “Touch my hands, my wrists, my arms, my face, anything you need for me to prove that I want you, no one else.”

You sighed, but took his hands in yours and shut your eyes. You saw flashes of a face that wasn’t yours and blond hair, felt Levi’s deep attraction to them. You then saw yourself, heard your own laugh, felt a touch on your hands as if your own hands were being held. Your senses filled up with a never-ending barrage of you, you, you.

You took your hands back with a gasp.

“Well?” Levi demanded.

You took a deep breath and put on a gentle smile before answering him.

“You have an obsession. I’ll give you that. If you want to call it love, then go ahead. I won’t stop you.”

He shifted closer. Licked his lips nervously.

“I do want to call it love. It’s not an obsession just because you’re a man. Will you…stop me from kissing you?”

You pondered. It would be nice to have the attention you so dearly craved from the man himself, Levi Ackerman. Had since you first saw him, years and worlds ago. On the other hand, you knew he wasn’t destined to be yours. You were a trespasser, an invader, a usurper of another’s rightful place.

Fuck it, you decided. He’s here now. He wants me now. It will be what it will be, and I will take the disappointment when it comes.

“It’s not because I’m a man. It’s because I’m me. But…no.” you said with fake nonchalance. “I don’t think I will.”

Levi leaned in slowly, his eyes flicking to yours before closing, as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. He brought his hands up and ran them through your hair as you broke apart.

“Shit, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he chuckled.

“Kiss me?” You asked.

“Touch your hair.” He did it again for good measure. “It just fits your face so well. And it’s soft, and…” he trailed off, petting his hands through your hair again.

Your eyes fluttered closed. That felt so nice…but.

“It’s getting late,” you whispered. Levi frowned and removed his hands from your hair.

“You’re right. You should sleep. Can I walk you to your room?” He asked, getting up.

“No thank you.” You stood as well, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Goodnight Levi. Thank you.”

—------------

845, three months before the fall of Wall Maria

You carefully took off your uniform straps, hanging them neatly on a hook. No matter how much you trained, the ODM gear still eluded you. Three years of training had somewhat helped, you could move around. But you couldn’t do it terribly fast, and forget about wielding blades.

“Hard day?” A voice from the doorway asked. You turned to see Levi standing there, watching you undress.

“No more than usual.” You softly laughed before you peeled off your white pants, tossing them onto the bed with a sigh.

“Again?” Levi tsk’d as he walked to the bed to fold them.

“I was going to do that,” you whined as you pulled on your regular pants.

“You should take better care of your uniform.”

“I’m still not military, it’s technically not mine.”

“Hm.”

You smiled. You’d had this exchange many times over the past three years. You shared a room with a soldier named Abraham, but you spent most nights in Levi’s quarters. Nobody talked about it. Well, except Hange. She teased you and Levi both whenever you were in the lab at the same time.

“You’re not too sore?” Levi asked, reaching to help you put on your shirt. You waited until the gray fabric settled around your hips to answer.

“No.”

“Good.”

You knew what he was really asking.

“Come to my room tonight early then.” Levi kissed you on the forehead and left. You sighed as you sat to put on your shoes.

This can’t last, you reminded yourself again. Three years with Levi had been wonderful. He grew angry whenever you said that he wouldn’t love you forever though, and did everything he could to prove you wrong. You appreciated the gestures, but you knew. You knew he would leave eventually. So you’d just smile and thank him, take the gift or the compliment or whatever it was, and pretend it was going to be okay. You had to admit though, the sex was fantastic. You’d had a hysterectomy years before ending up on Paradis, so you didn’t have to worry about anything. You never took off your shirt during sex though, and Levi was very respectful of that. Didn’t touch you there, didn’t talk about them, and even offered you his own shirts sometimes.

Dinner was uneventful. You could feel Levi’s gaze on you from across the mess hall, and finished quickly. You wanted a shower before heading up. A thunderstorm began while you were showering, and you felt the floor rumble after a particularly close flash of lightning. The lantern you took up to Levi’s quarters left flickering shadows on the wall, the strong wind threatening to blow the shutters on the ground floor.

“You started without me,” you pouted, shutting and locking the door behind you and blowing out the lantern.

Levi lay on the bed with his hand around his cock, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you when you spoke.

“Had to take the edge off,” he said lowly, pupils blown out. “Come here.”

“Do you want me to light a candle?” You asked, quickly stripping off your pants while you walked to the bed.

“Don’t bother. Come kiss me.”

You obliged, and he grasped your hair with his clean hand, gently pulling. You gasped, and pulled away as he wiped his other hand on the sheets.

“Let me take care of you tonight,” you whispered. A crack of lightning lit up the room in stark relief, then it was gone with a rumble.

“Okay,” Levi breathed, “just let me–” He kissed you again, nipping your bottom lip before letting you go.

You kissed down the column of his throat, pausing to gently bite and suck a mark near the bottom. No visible hickeys, that was the rule. You moved on, leaving pretty dark bruises all over his collarbone while your hands came up to play with his nipples.

“Oh,” he gasped. “That feels so good, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?”

You kept going, kissing wetly down his stomach and across his hips. You skipped where he wanted you before sucking marks into his thighs.

“Don’t tease,” Levi whispered. “Please, y/n, don’t tease.”

You finished making a little bruise in the crease of his hip before looking up.

“I have no idea what you mean, starshine.” Your smile gave you away as he looked down in disbelief.

“You’re impossible,” he said with a grin. “I love you.”

A crestfallen look crossed your face for a split second, illuminated by the lightning.

“I love you too.” Your voice was lost in the thunder, but you knew he could feel your words in the lips against his skin.

Levi frowned, sitting up.

“Hey, I–”

You interrupted him by licking all the way up his cock, and he broke off with a strangled noise, falling back down onto the bed.

It started raining. You could hear it, could taste the pre in your throat, your nose full of Levi’s heady scent, and you closed your eyes to just feel. A hint of something passed through your Object Resonance, but you ignored it, sucking harshly and holding Levi’s hips down so he couldn’t choke you.

Levi was getting close, you could tell, and you rolled your tongue across his tip just to feel him twitch in your mouth.

Then you heard it. It was muffled by the rain, but you could hear it as clearly as if Levi had moaned in your ear.

“Erwin…”

You froze. Levi seemed to realize his mistake as he tensed up.

“No, y/n, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–”

You opened your mouth, releasing him as a long string of saliva clung to his tip while you climbed over him.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you soothed, kissing him deeply, desperately, your words broken up by filthy, wet, sloppy kisses.

“I know–”

“--I know, starshine–”

“--I’ve known all along–”

“--You don’t have to say anything–”

“Y/n, could you just–”

“Levi Ackerman, shut the fuck up,” you said, resting your forehead against his. “I knew I couldn’t have you forever, so I’m going to take what I can for tonight.”

You reached back, guiding him into your soaking wet cunt. You both let out a low moan as you settled all the way down.

“Hang on,” Levi panted. “Let me–”

You slapped your hand over his mouth, kissing your knuckles over his lips. You started moving, fucking yourself on his cock with a desperate force, grinding him deep with every thrust. He moved his hands up, as if to stop you.

“No!” you growled. “Stay down and let me have this last time.” You sped up, making his eyes roll back in his head and his breaths come heavier. You released his mouth, letting his loud moans fill the room. The rain kept him much quieter than he would have been otherwise. Soon enough you started babbling.

“Fuck, you feel so good starshine.”

“You’re perfect, you’re so perfect.”

“You’re so deep, so deep.”

He was close. Some deep wall inside you broke at the thought of this ending, and your heartbreak found its way into your words.

“It’s okay, Levi,” you panted. “I know. I knew all this time I was just a hole for you to dump your cum.” You emphasized the word with a particularly hard thrust.

His eyes widened.

“So shut up and let me have it,” you continued. Your words turned into breathy moans as you continued.

“Give me your cum, please please please I need it, I need you, fuck me full, fill me up.” Words spilled from your mouth without your permission. “Fuck me full, get me pregnant, I need it so bad, give me a baby, I wanna have your baby, please–”

Levi came with a shout, hot white seed scalding you from the inside. You sat panting, while Levi stared up at the ceiling with glazed-over eyes. He snapped to attention as you slid off him, dripping white down your leg as you retrieved your pants. The pounding rain filled the silence.

“Don’t worry.” Your voice was tired, resigned. “Still can’t get pregnant. That was…just talk.”

The silence dragged on as you got dressed, broken only as you reached the door.

“Did you at least cum?”

You laughed softly, lost in the rain.

“No.” You didn’t look back.

—--------

You started wearing gloves after that, only touching things when Hange or Erwin asked. It was refreshing, the silence. You slept in your own bed every night now. Hange still teased on the rare occasion that Levi visited the lab, but he didn’t wind up in the same room as you unless he had to. Soon you started calling him Captain every time you addressed him. Hange noticed, of course, but didn’t bring it up after the first time.

Wall Maria fell, as of course it did. Every new recruit to the Scouts was introduced to you, the consultant. You shook hands with each one, and felt their deaths more often than not. You didn’t tell them they were dying soon. What good would it do? You didn’t tell Hange either.

Erwin occasionally took you to political events with him and Levi in order to quietly gain information about everyone you met, and you spent a great deal of those trips staring out the window, only spoken when spoken to in an effort to maintain appearances. At the events you would smile and be polite, shaking hands with your gloves tucked in your coat pocket. You wrote reports in the evenings and pretended everything was okay. You spent a lot of time with Moblit over the next three years, a quiet camaraderie concerning your unrequited loves between you. Surprisingly with his help you became at least somewhat proficient with the ODM gear, but Erwin wouldn’t clear you for battle because you weren’t military. You’re too valuable being the underlying reason, because of course it was with him.

Sooner than you expected, it was time. You were waiting in the Trost District. You were jittery, knowing the Scouts were due to come back today. When you heard the bells, you rode out to meet them and fell in next to Hange.

“News?” you asked.

“Nothing new,” they said, clearly tired. You nodded.

“How many?”

“He’s okay, y/n.” Hange chuckled. “Shouldn’t you be talking to him?”

You turned your head to watch Levi for a moment.

“Not anymore.” It was your first admission of things changing between you. Hange immediately looked worried.

“Look, I know he’s my best friend but I can kick his ass for you,” they offered.

“Not his fault.” You shook your head. “Besides, it’s three years too late.”

“Three years? By the walls, and I’ve been teasing you about him all this time!”

“It’s fine, Hange. But listen,” you changed the subject.

“What? Did you see something? Did you write it down?” Hange seemed excited, as you knew they would.

“Not exactly. Something just feels…off. May I?” You took off your glove and reached out. Hange grinned and excitedly held your hand for a moment.

“Anything?” They were practically vibrating in their saddle.

“No. Not really. Something about today just feels very strange.”

You had barely reached HQ before an alarm was sounded. The outer wall of Trost was breached, and they needed the Scouts.Your request to join them was once again denied, and so you sat despondently in Hange’s office trying to read until a cadet arrived with a summons for you. You’d expected it, so you sent them back to Erwin with the message that you were on your way. It was evening, and you were immediately shown to a courthouse and told that the Commander and Captain Ackerman were waiting for you below.

Eren Jeager looked younger than you’d expected. Then again, he was fifteen. When he woke up, you entered the cell despite Erwin and Levi’s warnings to shake his hand. You already knew enough, but you told them what they wanted to hear. Eren meant no harm to them, he didn’t remember how he’d become a shifter, and all you could see when you touched him was a family portrait. You described the portrait, but didn’t say anything else.

You soon found yourself working closely with Levi again. Erwin and Hange both wanted you as close as possible to Eren, which meant a temporary assignment to Squad Levi. Though you engaged in friendly conversation with the others, you barely spoke to Levi, and made eye contact with him even less. It continued that way for a long time.

—--------------

“Commander Zoe?”

“Oh for goodness’ sake, y/n, call me Hange! You’ve done it for six years, it can’t be that hard.” Hange looked up to see you grinning, before relaxing and laughing.

“Gotcha,” you said, coming to sit in front of their desk, keeping a firm hand on your bandages until you were settled.

“Hey, could you ask Moblit–” Hange stopped, their face falling.

“I know,” you said. “He was my friend too.”

Hange sighed.

“Have you talked to Levi?”

They looked up, surprised.

“Have you?”

“I don’t think he wants to talk to me,” you said with a shrug.

“He might not want to,” Hange said. “But…I think he needs to. He needs to hear it from you, you know. That there was nothing he could have done. That any of us could have done.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said after a while.

There was a knock on Levi’s office door. He looked up from blankly staring at his paperwork and frowned.

“Come in.”

Sasha Braus carefully opened the door and came in, setting a tea tray on Levi’s desk.

“Mr. L/n sent tea.”

Levi stared.

“Did he.”

“Um…”

“Dismissed.”

Once the door was firmly shut and Levi had heard Sasha’s footsteps fade away did he move to pick up the cup. He carefully took a sip.

Oh, he thought. He made it himself. You still remembered how he liked his tea. A piece of paper fluttered from the bottom of the cup onto the desk. Levi frowned and picked it up, unfolding it.

I’m sorry. It was your handwriting. Levi sat motionless for a good five minutes before standing and storming out of the room.

You sat outside on your usual bench. It was a clear night, and the empty yard seemed to shine almost silver.

“Cadet.”

“Captain,” you responded without turning to look.

“...Did you know?”

This made you look at him.

“What?”

“Did you know?!”

“Yes. The moment I touched him that day I knew.” You looked away again.

“Why didn’t you warn us?!” Levi yelled. “Why didn’t you say something?! Is this what you wanted?!”

You whipped your head around with a glare.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Captain.” You were seething. “You think I could have done something?! Is that it? You think I could have changed Erwin’s mind? You think anyone could have changed his mind?”

“You should have tried!”

“No!” You stood, pointing at him. “You don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t have done! You don’t have my power, you don’t know how much of a curse it is! I thought about it! I seriously considered it, I knew you didn’t want to lose him! Do you want to guess what I saw the minute I decided to tell him he was going to die?”

“What?” Levi demanded. “What did you see?”

“Nothing changed,” you hissed. “I saw him ignoring my warning and choosing to do the exact thing that would get him killed. Fuck, I nearly died trying to save him anyway. And that’s not all!”

The anger faded from Levi’s face.

“That’s how you got injured?”

“Do you know what I did right after Trost?” You shouted, getting more and more upset the more you spoke. “I tried to change something I saw! I tried to change what I knew would happen! Nothing changed! I couldn’t save your squad, I couldn’t catch Annie, hell, I couldn’t even expose Reiner and Bertholdt! And I don’t need you getting mad at me when I’m already mad enough at myself. For fuck’s sake, I knew who was going to die years in advance and I couldn’t save any of–” You stopped, realizing your mistake.

“What do you mean, you knew years in advance?” Levi asked quietly.

“I’m not…I’m not from just any different world,” you said cautiously. “You…you don’t exist where I’m from. But…stories about you do. You’re a story book, a dark fairy tale, you’re not real. And at first when I got here I thought it was a dream. A weird, realistic dream that I couldn’t wake up from, because surely this place didn’t exist. Then…I got hurt for the first time. I tried everything I could to wake up, but nothing worked. I realized this was real, you…were real, Captain.”

Levi stared at you.

“I can’t even tell you how this story ends, because it won’t change anything, everyone who dies in the end still will, and I have to watch it happen knowing I couldn’t fix it.” Tears started to stream down your face, only able to get your words out through sobs. “And you. I knew you couldn’t love me. I told you for three years. So no. You don’t get to be angry at me because I knew Erwin was going to die and I couldn’t save him. I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Sit down,” Levi said softly. You rolled your eyes at him, but you still sat back on the bench. He knelt in front of you and reached for the hem of your shirt.

“What are you–”

“You ripped your stitches, idiot. Shut up and let me see.”

You looked down to see that yes, there was a growing stain of red on your shirt. You let Levi lift your shirt up to reveal the gash across your waist. He tucked the hem under your chest just like he used to, and you stared up at the sky while he gently inspected your wound.

“Good news, only one popped. Let’s get you to the infirmary so I can fix it.”

“Why would you–”

“Quiet. Just let me.”

You fell silent as Levi put your shirt back and helped you stand so you could walk to the infirmary.

“So, this fairy tale.” Levi didn’t look at you as he spoke. “Who’s the hero of the story?”

“Heh.” You couldn’t help the faint laugh that escaped despite the stab of pain in your gut. “There is no hero in this story.”

“Fair enough. Main character then.”

“Officially? Eren Jeager.”

“That tracks, actually. And unofficially?”

“Depends who you ask.”

You stopped talking as Levi opened the door to the infirmary and sat you down on the nearest bed.

“Wait here.” He went off to grab materials while you stared at the ceiling. HQ was pretty much deserted. The Corps was down to nine members, plus you. Nobody was around to be in the infirmary or to staff it. It was just you two there.

Levi came back and told you to lay down. The room was quiet except for your hisses when something particularly hurt as he fixed you up.

“Hange,” Levi said as he washed his hands.

“What about them?” You asked, gingerly sitting up. He didn’t answer, and you understood. “We have…three years with them.”

Levi nodded before coming back over to help you stand.

“And…me?” His voice was so quiet you almost missed it. You held his hand for longer than you should have, making sure to double-check, triple-check, quadruple-check.

“That’s the funny part.” You smiled sadly, taking your hand back. “You, Levi Ackerman, make it to the end.”

His eyes darkened.

“The kids?”

“Four outta six ain’t bad.”

“Who?”

“Don’t. Don’t ask me that.”

“Alright.”

You stared at the floor, missing his intent gaze on you.

“Can I walk you to your room? Wouldn’t want my hard work to go to waste if you trip and fall down the stairs or something.”

“...Sure.”

He offered you his coat to wear up to your room given that your shirt was now a bloody rag. You accepted, heart hurting from things past. At your door, he paused and grabbed your wrist.

“Yeah, I’m giving you back your coat,” you said.

“No, that’s not what I–” Levi cut himself off, then tried again. “Do you remember what you said about obsessions?”

“I do.” You did. Almost word for word.

“I think…you were right. But not about you.”

You waited as he obviously struggled with his words.

“Erwin. He was an obsession.”

“Was he.” Your tone was flat.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “We never–he never–...I don’t think he even knew.”

“I see.”

“I…do you still…I mean, if you–”

“I never stopped, Levi.”

“Oh,” he said simply.

“But I need time.”

“Of course. You don’t even, I mean, I don’t expect…that is to say I don’t feel entitled to any–”

“Sshh.” You put your hand over his mouth, reminiscent of that night years ago. He quieted, and you moved to take off his coat.

“Keep that,” Levi said. “At least for tonight.”

You opened the door.

“Goodnight, Levi.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

— – – — – – —

You were woken up by a kiss pressed to your forehead.

“Cadet.”

“Not your cadet.” You didn’t even open your eyes as you smiled. You did open them when the curtain pulled back, making you yelp.

“No fair,” you pouted.

“If the kettle boiling woke me up yesterday then the sun can wake you up today,” Levi said as he slid back into bed.

“You sure you should have done that?”

“I can stand long enough to open the curtains, sweetheart.”

“If you insist,” you said, snuggling into his chest.

You lay there together for a time in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company.

“You ever think about going back to Paradis?” You asked after a while.

“A few times. Why?” Levi asked.

I know it’s been six years since The Rumbling, but…I’m sure there’s still plenty of orphans in Queen Historia’s kingdom. I was thinking…maybe some of them might like to come live here.”

Levi scoffed gently.

“I think the one we have is enough.”

Gabi dropping something in the kitchen loud enough to be heard several rooms away punctuated his point, and you giggled.

“I guess you’re right,” you said. “I just…I don’t know.”

Levi was quiet for a bit.

“You want a baby,” he said finally.

“Certainly not functionally,” you said. “But…yeah. I want a baby. But the same way every man dreaming of fatherhood wants one.”

“We could get a surrogate,” Levi said with a yawn. “If you think I’m not too old to raise a child.”

“Certainly not,” you said. “You haven’t gone senile just yet. I hardly think you will. I was just being wishful anyways.”

“We’ll talk about it some other time,” Levi said, dropping a kiss on your lips.

There was a loud clanging noise from the kitchen, followed by the sound of a wooden spoon banging against a pot.

“I’m not stopping until you wake up!” Gabi paused in her banging to yell. She continued for a good ten seconds before stopping again.

“I got woke up by the shower running at two a.m. again, pervy old man!”

“Why does she never get mad at you,” Levi grumbled before shouting back. “Wide awake, brat!”

“Maybe you should stop getting frisky late at night,” you suggested coyly. “Then she wouldn’t feel the need to get back at you every time the shower wakes her up.”

“You are just as much a culprit and you know it,” Levi said, rolling his eyes. He kissed you again.

“I love you.”

“I know,” you told him. And you did.

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