#days since I’ve had a proper rest? +16

[cuchillx]

the more i travel the more i do it under the worst circumstances

[siconetribal]

Put it on My Tab (16)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Warning:

Backpack newbie, All the green flags, It is time for...the talk

A/N:

I originally came on here about 45 minutes ago to post this and got completely side tracked and distracted by a draft that was just staring at me for days. (I normally don't see it on the app and I might have been avoiding it because I couldn't decide on what to choose.) Anyways, without further ado, the next installment!

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know!

As always, a huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

Jason waited patiently for her to climb on. He watched her shuffle bit by bit closer to him and his bike. He could not see her face because of the helmet, but he did not have to. He knew the type of face she must be making, and he had to keep his composure to not laugh at how cute this all was. Y/N was not the first innocent young woman he has dealt with, nor the first one to sass him back. She was a weird combination of the two that was uniquely her, and that is what drew him to her. Normally, someone like her would have never spoken to someone like him. Their worlds would have never collided. In reality, anyway. The fact that she’s IAmBatman still throws me for a loop. I would’ve bet big money it was one of the other Robins trolling me. He was about to ask if she needed help when he felt his bike shift from the added weight and her arms squeeze him tight, in what probably was her version of a death grip but ended up as more of a bear hug for him. Yeah, I’ve been squeezed harder by worse. I don’t mind this. He lightly patted her arms.

“I promise, I won’t do anything to scare you. Just follow my body and don’t be too stiff, ok?” He looked over his shoulder to see her try to look up at him, but his helmet was not doing her any favors. He snorted out a chocked laugh and quickly looked forward once more. “Sorry, sorry,” he reached back and hooked his hand under her thigh by her knee, tugging her leg up to rest her foot on a proper place. The motion had her scooting closer, and she jumped again when he pulled her other leg. “Keep your feet here and just enjoy the ride. Did you want me to put on some music? I have Bluetooth in my helmet. It won’t be easy to talk, since you won’t be able to hear well.”

“Music is fine, but how will you hear?” She spoke a little louder to not come out muffled.

“I’ll be fine, I rather you be comfortable.” Yup, she’s definitely having trouble hearing me. “Do you listen to anything in particular?”

“Anything is fine by me, but I tend to do more 90s rock. Linkin Park, Coldplay, or My Chemical Romance are always appreciated.” 

“Really?” He looked over his shoulder again to see if she was lying, but was met with his helmet. Right, I forgot about that. He rolled his eyes at his little lapse in memory. Didn’t expect that list from her. She really knows how to surprise me every time. He searched around a bit and managed to build a small playlist of songs for her to listen to. “Let me know if this is too loud.” He played a song and waited until they found a good setting for her. “Hold tight when the music starts and just move with me, ok?” He secured his phone and pulled out his red half mask that covered his mouth.

I don’t think any of the guys I’ve dated have ever been this considerate. He’s not a textbook gentleman, but he’s pretty close. Y/N was genuinely surprised with how much care he was taking with her. She was nervous that he may find her burdensome and tried not to cause much trouble. The tug on her legs caught her off guard, literally pulling her from her thoughts and scooting her closer to him. His voice was a bit muffled, but she was not sure which made it worse: the beating of her heart that was now magically in her ears or the helmet. Either way, she managed to figure out what he was saying and answer.

“Do you listen to anything in particular?”

“Anything is fine by me, but I tend to do more 90s rock. Linkin Park, Coldplay, or My Chemical Romance are always appreciated.” Is that weird to say? Maybe I should've said something more pop or indie? But I like them and they’re my go-to music.

“Really?” she felt him twist, so she looked up, or at least tried to but could only see part of his face.

How do people ride with big, clunky things like these? Then again, this is his size, so it’s probably not so big or clunky to him. She reasoned. 

Soon enough, everything seemed settled and as soon as the music started, she tightly held onto him. As promised, he kept to an easy speed which allowed her to take in her surroundings. It was not as scary as she thought it would be. The cars that zipped by were not the best, but Jason clearly knew what he was doing and avoided all trouble. At a red light there was a car revving its engine and some passengers were heckling them, but he seemed to just ignore it.

I wonder, would he have responded to them if I wasn’t here? They’re pretty annoying. This is the third light they’ve stopped at with us and are still trying to get a rise out of him. She frowned, unable to hear them thanks to the music. A bunch of rowdy losers. She tightened her grip on Jason. The pat to her arms surprised her, but it was reassuring. Cici’s right, I need to talk to him about the bill. He’s not going to throw a fit and storm off. 

Y/N looked up as they pulled into a parking lot. It was a diner she had seen on a few of the bus rides when the usual bus was not running. She had always thought about stopping by, but it was always a fleeting thought until she saw it again.

“We’re here,” she heard him as the music stopped. “You climb off first, I’ll keep the bike balanced.” She quickly followed his instructions and managed to get off without fumbling, much to her own surprise. Feeling proud, she stood a little taller and pulled off the helmet

“Not so bad, right?” He grinned, his mask hidden in his jacket once more.

“I’ll admit, not as scary as everyone makes it out to be. You were a textbook motorcyclist. I thank you for not trying to give me a heart attack.”

“Bikes get a bad rep, couldn’t let that happen again. Want your bag? It’ll be safe here if not.” Y/N hesitated for a moment. If he does end up freaking out on me, I’ll lose my things. It’s unlikely he would, but I can’t risk it. Who knows what’ll happen. 4k isn’t just some simple bake sale change. “Yeah, I probably should. My phone is there. I should have it on me in case Cici tries to reach me.”

“Say no more,” he carefully handed it to her and took his helmet in return. “C’mon, let’s get some grub. I'm starving!” He led the way inside.

“Well look who it is, back again? Oh, you’re not alone this time?” Y/N looked up at the sound of the gruff voice to a big older guy standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Hey Charlie, what can I say, I like your food. Yeah, I brought a friend, we’ll seat ourselves.” Jason hooked his arm around her shoulders and led her to a booth where there were not as many people. A young woman came around with the sticky laminated menus, pouting at the sight of Y/N. It was evident that the waitress was interested in the handsome regular and Y/N was not off to a good start.

Better not do anything to get her spitting in my food. She nervously smiled, picking up the menu.

Jason watched Y/N as she looked over the choices, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recalled how proud she looked when she dismounted his bike with ease. He was nervous that she may not have liked the ride because of the overcompensating teens that were trying to get him to race, but she had yet to say anything so he let it be 

Those dumbasses were lucky they were allowed to keep up with me. I'd been impossible to catch if I was alone. I’m just glad she wasn't annoyed by them. The ride was peaceful aside from that. She was not stiff and followed his lead well, which was great for him. Feeling her pressed against his back made him realize just how much smaller she was compared to him. She was not frail or sickly, but she was comparably weaker than him or many of the other females he has worked with. Then again, none of them are run-of-the-mill either. He realized the unfair comparison. It was different though, a good difference. He could not really put his finger on why it mattered, but it had. Instead of stressing on it, he let the thought come and go.

When they reached the diner, he asked her about her belongings and she hesitated. She was clearly weighing the risks and benefits. It was not shrewd, it was logical. Even though he was a secret vigilante, she should be cautious. If he was anyone else, she could have been a lot of trouble. Hearing her answer was a relief. He had no intention of just up and leaving her, but anything could happen. Duty could call, and he would need to go, and she would be stuck here. The idea of abandoning her did not sit well with him, and he could not figure out why.

Regardless, everything is going pretty smoothly for now, maybe we can have a decent conversation. I need to bring up the money, but she’s yet to even ask for my name. What does a guy gotta do to be inquired about around here!?  He propped an elbow on the table and glared at her reflection in the window, chin resting in his hand.

“So, I suppose I should start with a name, huh?” His ears perked up at the words, and he quickly turned to face her. “We’ve obviously met a bunch of times, but I didn’t really think we’d ever meet again after so I never bothered. My name's Y/N Y/LN, what’s yours?”

Did I hear right? Did she just and then just? Have I died? Like actually died-died?  “Took you long enough,” he grinned. “Nice to meet you officially, my name is Jason Todd. Now I can change your contact name from ‘Trouble Magnet Barista’ to your actual name.”

“You did not,” he showed her his phone and she whacked him with the menu. He laughed as he dodged the hit.

“You refused to give me your name. What was I supposed to call you? The Expensive Inquisition? Or D.I.D. #1?” He smirked as she scowled at him. “You have no one to blame but yourself for that.”

“I should change your name to Sir Questions-a-lot.” He heard her grumble as she took out her phone and changed his name while he changed hers in his phone. “Something tells you wanted to say more than just your name, what’s up?”

Y/N stared at the words on the menu but paid them no attention. She needed to get her thoughts in order and strike up the conversation without insulting or angering him. It’s not every day some chick comes demanding a large sum of money like that. She glanced at him over the top of the menu. Well for normal people anyway. Trust fund kids with a playboy father might have people knocking on their door all the time. I need to make sure he knows I'm not one of those people.

“So, I suppose I should start with a name, huh?” She finally built up the courage to speak up. “We’ve obviously met a bunch of times, but I didn’t really think we’d ever meet again after so I never bothered. My name's Y/N Y/LN, what’s yours?” She anxiously waited for his response as he simply stared at her with wide eyes. Oh no, did I do that wrong? How else was I supposed to do it? I can’t just say ‘hi’ like we weren’t just with each other!

“Took you long enough,” he grinned. “Nice to meet you officially, my name is Jason Todd. Now I can change your contact name from ‘Trouble Magnet Barista’ to your actual name.”

“You did not,” she gasped when he showed her the screen and she swung the first thing in her hands, which was the floppy menu. Sadly he was able to avoid the feeble strike.

Y/N stiffened at his reminder of why she even brought up their names. He was right. She made the decision to talk to him about the hotel bill. Jason had to have known he broke the machine, but was unaware of the bill that followed. How else would he be so carefree?

“Yes, there is something else.” She set her weapon down and took a deep breath. Just rip it off like a bandaid. “The hotel we stayed at,” she paused for a moment, shifting her gaze from his face to the table. “They contacted me that weekend and told me there was damage to the room. I know you didn’t do it on purpose, but the price to pay is really steep. I won’t demand you to pay all of it since I’ve already started paying it off, but I’d appreciate it if you’d help me with the rest. Which is why I’ve been working like crazy to cover the costs, but it’s slow progress and the hotel is starting to get annoyed with how slow the progress is. Not only that, but I’m afraid they’ll throw me into collections, which will only cause more problems. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, nor did I want to blame you, but Cici and I are already living tight as is.” She tried to speak as calmly as possible, but her tempo sped up a bit towards the end as her nerves got the best of her. There, I said it! Now all she had to do was wait for him to respond.

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali  @antiquecultistst

[nahoney22]

That Floral Dress***

Echo X F!Reader

word count: 3000

After a sour date, Echo has one thing on his mind: is he a bad kisser? Luckily, you were willing to tell him the truth.

Warnings: no smut but it is rather saucy so gonna rate it at 16+. Slight insecure echo, unknown mutual pining, reader is female and is wearing a floral dress. Intense make out.

Masterlist

“Do I look like I would be a bad kisser?”

The question catches you off guard completely, making you spin around in your seat in the cockpit of the Marauder to face Echo who had been pacing back and forth for the better half of ten minutes. You’re surprised he hasn’t worn the floor down.

You're not sure how to respond to such an unexpected question, so you ask him to repeat it. "Do I look like I would be a bad kisser?" he asks again, biting his lip anxiously.

Even hearing it the second time round confused you just as much and then it occurred to you that a few nights ago he had come back from a date that Wrecker had sprung upon him. He didn’t look too pleased to go in the first place and his mood only worsened upon his return.

“I… don’t know?” You reply nervously.

Echo had been your friend for years now, even since before his accident at the Citadel so for him to ask you this type of question was a little odd as you two were merely friends. You didn’t want to upset him and say no, which wasn’t the case either, but you didn’t want to say yes in case presumptions start.

Echo lets out a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose with his flesh hand before leaning against the wheel of the Marauder. You can tell that he's feeling frustrated, and you feel a twinge of guilt for not being more helpful. So, dropping what you were doing, you decide to ask him what's really going on.

“How come you're asking me this, Echo?" you inquire softly, hoping to get to the root of the problem.

Echo fidgets nervously, his sharp jaw clenching with anxiety. "Remember that date I went on the other day?" he grumbles, clearly still bitter about the experience. To which you nod for him to continue, leaning back on your seat as he begins to explain his predicament.

“Well, not only were they quite dull as a person, and I’m not saying I’m a barrel of laughs either, but they were insanely dull so the date was not off to a great start.” He emphasizes on the word dull, making you giggle softly which always made him smile but before he gets distracted, he continues,

“Anyway, I walked them back to their place and just being the courteous guy I am, I leaned in to give them a kiss goodnight. Only for them to recoil back as if I smelt terrible.”

"They even said 'ew no thanks,'" he recalls bitterly, his face contorting.

Your eyes widen in shock, mouth agape. “How rude of them!” You exclaim with a shake of your head, feeling indignation on his behalf. “You were only being nice?” You stated, hoping to bring some ease to Echo but his furrowed brows and almost sad expression said otherwise.

“I only was going to go in for the cheek.” He grumbles. “Well, I just wanted to ask you if you think I looked like I’d be a bad person to kiss.” He folds his arms over his chest, staring down at the floor as your heart lunges out to him.

“In that case,” you stand and take a step towards him, resting a comforting hand to his forearm, “no, I don’t think you would look like a bad kisser.”

His eyes search yours, a mix of emotions residing in them. “You don’t have to say that because you feel bad for me.”

You scoff and shake your head at him. “Echo, you know me well enough to know that I’ll always be honest with you. So no, I don’t think you look like a bad person to kiss.”

The words gave him brief comfort and a smile is fighting its way on his lips. “Thanks. Though, I don’t think I’d be that great at it anyway.” He shrugs and this only piques your curiosity more.

“Howcome?”

Again, he fidgets a little before letting out a small sigh at his confession. “I’ve never kissed anyone. A proper kiss that is.”

Echo's confession about his lack of experience in kissing catches you off guard. You had assumed that he had dated or been in some kind of romantic relationship before, given his charming personality and good looks. But as he stands before you, vulnerable and honest, you can't help but feel a sense of compassion towards him.

Echo shifts his weight from one foot to another, as if unsure of how you would react to his confession. You can see the slight furrow in his brow and the way his lips purse as he contemplates the words to say next. His vulnerability tugs at your heartstrings, and you take a deep breath before speaking.

"Wow, I didn't know that. But it's okay, Echo. You don't have to be a great kisser right off the bat. It takes practice, and I'm sure with the right person, you'll be amazing."

As Echo's gaze meets yours, you sense a palpable tension between the two of you. It's as if you share an unspoken understanding that transcends the bounds of your platonic friendship, one that leaves you questioning whether there might be something more between you. But before you can dwell on these thoughts for too long, you hear yourself utter the words, "I'd be happy to teach you."

Your words take Echo aback, and he seems surprised by your willingness to help him with something so intimate. “You would?”

Your own eyes begin to widen, the reality of your words hitting home. But you're not about to back down now. "S-sure," you squeak, quickly clearing your throat to hide the nerves that were now bubbling, "I mean, we're friends, right? I'm sure you'd do the same for me."

As Echo ponders your offer, he realises that you're right. You've always been there for him, and the thought of not returning the favor is unthinkable. Supposedly it makes things better too that he finds you were impossibly beautiful and wearing that pretty floral dress he really liked. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a shaky exhale, Echo stands up straight and takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what's to come. He's grateful that he managed to brush his teeth earlier that morning, before any of the others hogged up the refresher. "How do you want to do this?" he asks, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

Your mind races, considering your options. You hadn't expected Echo to be so agreeable to the idea, and now you find yourself at a loss for words. "Um, well," you stammer, "do you want to just go ahead and reenact how your date went? And kiss me on the cheek?"

Echo's expression darkens at the suggestion. He doesn't want to relive that somewhat painful memory, but if it means learning from his mistakes, he's willing to give it a shot. "Sure," he concedes with a slight frown, "why not?"

You approach Echo with a hesitant step, feeling a flutter in your chest as you meet his gaze. His eyes hold a certain shyness, and you can sense the weight of his request hanging in the air between you. You take a deep breath and muster up the courage to speak with a slight mischievous grin dancing at the corners of your lips. Your voice tinged with a playful sweetness. "Well, Echo, I do appreciate you walking me back to my place," you tease, relishing the opportunity to poke fun at your friend's chivalry.

Echo looks momentarily confused, but he quickly catches on and chuckles at your literal interpretation of the situation. "I don't think they ever said it like that," he remarks, his amusement evident.

You roll your eyes, but your smile remains, and you lower your voice, adopting a more serious tone. "Say, Echo," you say, your eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter, "I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you for walking me back to my place."

Echo shakes his head, an adoring look in his eyes. You always knew how to effortlessly charm him with your humor. But, he knows there's something he needs to address. "Of course," he says softly but resolutely.

As Echo gathers his courage, you patiently wait, your hands tucked behind your back. You can tell he's nervous about kissing you, even on the cheek.

You watch as he tentatively reaches out to touch you, trying to remember how he kissed his date. But this time, he finds himself oddly wanting to impress you.

When he reaches out, his fingers trace over the fabric of your dress on your waist. A surge of warmth shoots through you, and you take a small step closer to him as if he was inviting you closer. His breath is heavy, and your heart races as you spot him staring at your lips… instead of your cheek.

"Echo," you say softly, hoping to bring him back to reality.

"Sorry, I, uh—" Echo stammers, his mind racing with uncertainty. For a moment, you worry that he might back away, but you take a deep breath and speak up.

"Just kiss me," you say, voice barely above a whisper as you lean in until your nose brushes against his.

Echo swallows nervously, stealing a quick glance at your lips once more before meeting your gaze. "Where?" his voice was almost silent. It was as if the obvious place you suggested to him had vanished and you find yourself not minding it at all.

You hold your nerve and ever so slightly, not quite sure what possessed or was possessing you, lean closer until your lips ghost over him and watch him with a steady gaze. “Wherever feels right for you.”

He couldn't resist any longer, the temptation too great as he leaned in to capture your lips in a quick embrace. The kiss was sweet, yet intense, sending shivers down your spine and causing your mind to go hazy with an unknown desire. The feel of his lips on yours was electric, igniting a spark deep within you that you never knew existed for him. His eyes were tightly knitted shut, afraid that you may turn around and sock him one but he was pretty certain you were kissing him back.

As he pulled back, breathless and eager for your response, you found yourself lost in the moment, unable to speak. Your face felt hot as you looked down at your shoes, struggling to find the right words to say. Everything about this moment felt different, as if something had shifted irrevocably between you both.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Echo finally spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "How was that?" he asked, his eyes still closed, as if he was afraid to see your reaction. He may have thought about kissing you once or twice, naturally. He just never knew it would happen quite like this.

Your face felt like it was on fire and you found yourself looking down at your shoes. “It was nice… your date was missing out.” You reply, almost stiff.

There was a certain type of emotion that hung on your words that you didn’t quite know yourself.

Echo licked his lips inconspicuously, savoring the taste of your fruity lip balm that lingered on his tongue. "At least I know I'm not a bad kisser," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

You laughed softly, the sound ringing like music in the quiet cockpit. "Definitely not," you replied, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

As you looked up at him, you could feel his gaze burning into you, as if he was seeing you for the first time. You were everything perfect in the galaxy, and his grip on your waist tightened just a little bit more, as if he never wanted to let you go.

In a moment of boldness, Echo's scomp came up to cradle your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Your eyes locked, and you were lost in each other, the galaxy around you fading away until it was just the two of you. There were no words, no movement, just the intensity of your gazes. “How do I show that I want to do more then?”

As the heat between you and Echo intensifies, he challenges you with another kiss, pushing the boundaries to see how far he can take you. Your smile gives away your desire, and you whisper a command, "Maybe, bring them closer."

Echo doesn't hesitate, his arm wraps around your lower back, drawing you close in a swift motion. Chest to chest, his breath washes over your face, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "And then?" he prods, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes close as you succumb to the moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of Echo's low tone. "I-I suppose you just kiss them again, but a little longer."

So he does. Feverish and intense with a passion that ignites your senses. Your heart beats wildly, consumed by the sensation of his lips moving in perfect harmony with yours. Echo gently trails his hand up your body to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss, and you gasp, lost in the intoxicating sensation. When he pulls away to gauge your reaction, he almost chuckles when he spots you leaning into him, chasing his lips. To your glee, he kisses you swiftly and you let out the faintest of moans in his mouth.

Echo's lips against yours are soft, and you can feel the warmth of his breath as he murmurs a phrase that sends a shiver down your spine. "Oh cyare," he purrs, and you're suddenly jolted back to reality. Your heart races, and you feel a wave of anxiety wash over you.

You pull away, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head. "We shouldn't be doing this," you tell him.

Echo looks shaken, his expression concerned as he fears he may have overstepped the mark. "Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?" he asks.

You shake your head, feeling a twinge of guilt as you pull away from Echo's embrace. "I'm sorry, Echo. We shouldn't be doing this. I'm supposed to be teaching you how to kiss for other dates," you explain.

Echo tilts his head, sensing your unease. But the thought of you possibly being jealous makes his heart skip a beat, and he realises this may be the right moment to lay everything on the line. "What if there are no other dates?" he asks softly.

You blink in surprise, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he approaches you again, his flesh hand cupping your cheek, thumb tracing over your delicate skin, "what if I just want to kiss you?” He lowers his voice, afraid to break the tension. “What if I want to date you?"

Shock is written all over your face, and you can't help melting into his touch once more. "But I thought we were just friends," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Echo chews on the inside of his cheek before admitting, "I don't think 'just friends' want to kiss each other, do they?" He uttered, voice almost vibrating against you.

Your heart flutters in your chest, and a heat pools in your lower stomach. "No," you shudder, feeling the intensity of his gaze. "I suppose they don't."

He smiles coyly, and his lips gently trace along your jawline, edging towards your ear. "Then let me kiss you. Let me give you anything you want."

As his lips touch your ear, you feel a surge of electricity coursing through your body, and your mind is filled with conflicting emotions. But most of them were primarily focused on how he pushes you against the control panel.

You whimper under his touch, both of your hands coming up to clasp his cheeks as you guide his lips back onto yours. Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, and your teeth clash, but neither of you seems to care.

In a moment of need, his lips assault yours as he presses you down so your back hits at the buttons and switches, sandwiched between your legs.

"Echo," you groan his name into his mouth before he playfully bites at your lower lip. Your legs press against his outer thighs and around his waist and you crumble into a mewling mess once you feel his hand slide up under your dress, caressing at your thigh.

He stands up straight for a moment, admiring how you’re displayed beautifully on the control panel just for him. His eyes roamed your body, growing warm at how your dress hugged your body wonderfully and how your chest heaved beneath it, highlighting your breasts.

“Did I ever tell you that I love this dress on you?”

You blush deeply as he massages your skin, feeling the heat building between your legs. "No," you rasp, eyelids heavy with lust.

“Shame,” he chuckles, moving his lips down to your neck now, starting to suck and bite that sweet spot that your body perfectly reacts to - arching up into him. “Although, I wouldn’t mind seeing it on the floor one day.”

You chew on your lower lip, whimpering and moaning in pleasure as he leaves marks all over your neck and collarbones. Surprisingly, you find yourself not even caring if the others saw it. The pleasure you are getting is far too great to tell Echo to stop.

When he pulls back, panting and trying so hard to ignore the tent in his pants, he gazes down at you, his eyes dance with adoration. “You’re so beautiful, cyare.”

You're panting a little, causing his eyes to flicker between your chest and your eyes with a smile. “As are you. And a very, very good kisser.”

You don’t know what was going to happen from then on but for now, you just savored the feeling of Echo leaning down to kiss you, tongue begging for entrance at your lips.

Masterlist

More Echo Works

[thecandywrites]

Monster March Day 16- Part 2

Hemi Meets Pix

I had part 1 done and part 3 done, years ago when I first commissioned @momolady to commission all of this for me then. Writing the bridge to connect the two? Like that meme where you're on one side of the grand canyon and the next piece of the story is on the other side and you have no fucking idea how to build a bridge to get the two to connect. So think of this as fanficion of those commissions as well as- the spark that started those commissions in the first place. Enjoy.

Thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2023 prompt list.

Part 2

Which is where KaBoom and Loker grew up here. And was their hometown. Which, coincidentally where KaBoom got to meet up again with his old friend Utsway whose wife, Diade was close to giving birth as her own pregnant belly swelled to the point it looked like it would burst any moment as a friend of hers was over visiting checking up on her. 

“Dea, the midwife just came into town this morning, I saw her and her crew go into Bayonet Mannor’s gates just this morning.” The friend offered since Bayonet manor was the house of nobility in the last town back just as Slystall ended, Bayonet started. 

“Oh thank the gods. Sway! You better be getting all the money together, because I need the midwife! I’ve done this for two days, I ain’t laboring for a third!” Diade called out to her mate as she paced around the house, sticking her fists into her lowerback which had been hurting even worse than usual as she tried to sit down but couldn’t get comfortable as her own breathing was labored and a scowl wouldn’t leave her face. 

KaBoom was the first to volunteer to get Kisska himself, who apparently was the midwife in question’s name. He immediately left and Hemi watched as Kisska and her caravan came with her. She too had many carts and wagons and an entire crew for protection. All clearly from a variety of clans based on the different hues of green, blue, red, yellow, orange and every other color in the rainbow. But all of them were shield maidens, like Hemi’s own mother was. And the head guard at the head of the caravan was by far, the most amazing shield maiden he had ever heard tales of, let alone seen in his life. 

Because that was when Hemi got to get his first look at Pix. Who was Kisska’s Head of Security. 

Pix was everything Hemi had ever thought a warrior goddess should be. 

She was heavily armed. She wore nothing but leather and was built like both a war goddess and a fertility goddess by the heft of her bosom, swell of her belly and large roundness of her hips and ass and thighs as thick as tree trunks that he mused could probably crush his skull proper. And for the first time, he couldn’t stop himself from grinning just at the sight of her. No other being, let alone a woman, a huge orcish one at that had ever tickled his fancy and was exactly the kind of woman he would ever think to fantasize or even dream was ever to be real and existence. And here she was, on a huge draft and looking him up and down and weighing and measuring him just as much as he was her. And he could only hope she liked what she saw, because he sure did. 

She had the sides of her head shaved to show off the tattoos on the sides of her head. As the rest of her hair was braided up into a mohawk along the top of her head. 

She rode a pretty large draft horse, not as big as his own, but plenty big enough to carry her. But the horse was still eye level with him which put her up above him, in every way he wanted her to be. And she had even more weapons on her person than he did. She had maps of all kinds all around her. She had tattoos on the parts of her body he could see and even on parts that were partially covered by her leather clothes. And the look she gave him of weariness and the way she narrowed her eyes at him only made his grin grow wider. And when her pair of firehawks came back to her and each of them landed on each of her shoulders, specifically to the sharp antlers she had put on her shoulders, he knew he just met the woman of his dreams. He had heard in the tavern of women of men’s dreams. But she was so much more than that, she was clearly a goddess. 

“Nice tatts.” She managed to say once she took her time to look him up and down and sized him up herself as she leaned her elbows on the front of her saddle. 

“Thanks.” He answered. 

“Who did ‘em?” She asked. 

“The elders of my Dad’s tribe.” He answered which got her to raise her eyebrows just a smidge. 

“Tribe?” She repeated. He looked pretty orc to her. But most orcs had clans. Nearly all of them. So for him to say tribe meant he wasn’t all orc. Which explained his otherwise exquisite physique. And why, for once, he was a male looking orc that was for once, bigger than her and now she could actually really take good notice of what he was wearing and how he was wearing it and compared it with everything else she knew  and encountered. 

Because as far as orcs went, orc women were usually only slightly smaller than their male counterparts. But she had been working on building herself strong since she was little and she was usually head and shoulders above most male orcs she found. 

And most were actually emasculated by her, because she was usually better at anything and everything than they were. She was very much the matriarchal elephant of the group. She spent her money, besides the usual, leather clothes, good weapons and armor, good food and drink, but otherwise- on really good and accurate maps. Mountain mouras were usually the best when it came to good and accurate maps and she had paid nearly her weight in silver for the best ones that were being updated nearly yearly and showed not only landmarks but migrations as well as where cities rose, fell and which territories belonged to what kind of peoples. Because mountain moura flew all around the world and made their own maps as they did. And because of Kisska, Pix could get them into any and all of the colonies and since most colonies spoke common and marinai, the more marinai she learned, the better she got on with them, to the point she was just as well known as Kisska was to them. And it was Pix who got to vouch for other clans of orcs to at least set up trade for furs, medicine and food stuffs, which in turn helped the colonies. 

But Pix, having known KaBoom and specifically his third’s business clientele, was always weary of him. Not wanting his association to taint and tarnish Kisska’s. But this was obviously work. And Kisska came out of the house only a moment later and grabbed what she needed from her cart and then went back in with her sister to help deliver the baby as they brought in a small copper basin with them as Kisska gave an order for what else she would need for the baby when it would be delivered as the different women in her own crew were quick to follow her requests and orders. 

“Pix, we’re gonna be here a while. Send someone back to the manor to tell them I’m needed here for at least the rest of the day.” Kisska ordered before Pix looked at her second in command and her sister in arms and just that look was enough for her to leave the group and head back to the manor. 

“So Pix? Hi, I’m Hemi.” Hemi introduced himself. 

“Mmhmm, so about that tribe.” Pix murmured as she refixed her gaze on him. 

“Mountain Craig Tribe of the Drovir Mountains.” He proudly boasted as Pix’s eyebrows rose in surprise while a smile bloomed on her pretty and full lips. 

“So I take it your mom is an orc and your dad is obviously a giant goliath hybrid, because that’s giant goliath hybrid country in those parts.” Pix grinned and Hemi’s chest puffed out even prouder because this woman was so well traveled she even knew that much- and off the top of her head too! Oh she couldn’t get more perfect. 

“Yup, she was injured on a hunting trip, tracking a snow boar. My dad found her, finished off the boar and brought her home and then they had me.” He proudly told her. 

“Nice. Snow boars are some of the hardest to kill. They can dig through bedrock to get to mountain black ironwood pine roots. And those roots, when shaved and boiled, make some of the best black healing balm there is.” She added and Hemi swooned. She was practically crafted and molded by all the old and new gods and made to look like a mortal for being the goddess she surely was because the mountain goliath and giant hybrids, they domesticated snow boars just for that purpose and was why that mountain village had anything to do with the local goliath/giant hybrid community. But the fact that she knew of it, and not just knew of it but how it was made. Impressed him greatly. 

“Snow boars also have some of the thickest fur, will get you through any blizzard.” Hemi praised as he padded the fur cloak hanging over his shoulder which got a nod and a grin of approval. 

“Tell me about it.” Pix said before she pulled her own cloak that was rolled up behind her seat on her saddle to show that she too had some herself, something she had gotten from the other mountain moura and orcs who hunted them which earned her a nod and grin of approval too. 

To Hemi, they were practically a match made in the heavens themselves. And he was ready to call it quits with KaBoom and ask if Pix had any positions he could fill on her crew. He didn’t care if he took a pay cut. Granted this wasn’t the path he envisioned to find his perfect potential mate. But he was happy for it. 

“Snow boar is also the most resilient leather too. Besides dragon’s leather.” She nodded in agreement. 

“Which I see is what you’ve made your straps and belt from.” She added as she appraised the leather straps across his chest and Hemi couldn’t help it, he smiled happily that she noticed and recognized it.  

“It is. Took the better part of five years to tan the hide and make the straps from the edges of the hide. But nothing compared to that dragon leather you’re wearing and that dragon scale armor looks damn near impenetrable.” Hemi praised. 

“Good eye. You’re right. It’s served me very well. Easy to wear, easy to clean. Hard as hell to make but once it’s made, it’s damn near unbreakable. Unless it goes up against dragontoothed weapons, then, not so much.” She showed off once she got the dragon toothed daggers from her belt to show off to him and Hemi nearly drooled. 

“Where’d you go and get all that from? Must have cost a fortune.” He appraised curiously. 

“Miss Kiana gets all around, both this continent and many others beyond. So I’ve gotten different parts of it from all over. Not nearly as expensive as you might think it would be when you know where to look and who to ask but we’re at least a three month journey from the closest fortress, guarded by the very dragons these scales come from- that may or may not have any dragon goods to sell and you better be having your own weight in silver to spend in your hands- to be allowed into the fortress in the first place.” She grinned smugly when she shrugged. 

“I can see, you have a lot of tattoos from at least three continents, at least that I can see from here.” Hemi practically purred as Susillo and Abasi both looked at each other and then at Hemi in fear. Many guys flirted with Pix when they saw the wonder that she was. But few got to get more than a few lines out before she put them in their place and they could only hope that Hemi didn’t go too far and end up pissing Pix off. Because Pix was a force to be reckoned with all on her own. Not to mention her sisters in arms. But Pix, she may not have had the gravitas of pure terrorizing presence that Hemi did. 

Before they knew Hemi, they thought Pix was the baddest of the badass motherfuckers who protected Kisska as if Kisska was her own baby sister. And who only took orders from Kisska or Kisska’s own orcish father, who was actually Pix’s uncle. So they were, technically cousins.

But Hemi simply took another step and let her mare sniff at his hand just as his pups came up and started sniffing the horse before Pix let her mare have her head to lean her head down to sniff the pups. 

“Dire wolf pups, just barely subadults. Pretty well behaved. You nurse them yourself?” Pix asked with a curious grin as Abasi and Susillo simply looked at each other in amazement because of course the most badass woman they had ever known would ever treat Hemi like an equal and not also intimidated as they were. And if anything Pix was becoming as charming as they had ever heard of her or seen her ever being as they wondered if Hemi was finally the guy that Pix would find as an equal instead of always less than and lower than. 

“What the fuck is going on right now? Since when does Pix ever tolerate anyone even approaching her that closely without the threat of her beheading them if they touch Cinni?” Abasi breathed into Susillo’s ear because Cinni was short for Cinnamon who was a chestnut mare. And usually meaner than snot and had no qualms about running over and trampling anything and everything in her path. But to Pix, she was the perfect steed. 

“I don’t know. At least they’re getting along. Just play it cool and hope that Hemi doesn’t do or say anything stupid, this could either go very good or very bad and heaven help us if this goes bad. Hemi talks a big talk, but Pix walks the big walk and Pix would be the only I would ever think could and would stand her ground and have a chance going up against him..” Susillo urged Abasi under his breath as both of them were afraid to move, much less breathe too much. 

But Pix’s dig got Hemi to laugh the biggest, deepest belly laugh that everyone else could practically feel in their bones. 

“Nipples are still pretty tender.” Hemi said as he rubbed at them which got Pix to chortle a chuckle. 

“You have a good sense of humor. That’s good. Well, if you’re in KaBoom’s crew, we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other- if you can manage to stay alive that long anyway. What happened to what’s his face?” She asked once she looked over at Abasi and Susillo. 

“Uh, he uh, he had a career change.” Abasi offered. 

“Huh, career change. That’s a fancy way of saying he died, probably bled to death from getting stabbed in the back from a deal gone bad in Cantasi right? That’s where we saw each other last when I saw him still alive and breathing at least. Let me guess, he’s probably half decomposed in some shallow grave in some stretch of woods somewhere outside of Cantasi eh?” Pix guessed and the way Abasi’s ears laid back guiltily had Pix huff mirthlessly through her nose with a subtle, disapproving shake of her head. 

“And you’re his replacement. Meant to be a deterrent and the one and only piece of security these guys got huh?” Pix gathered as she looked from them back to Hemi.  

“Yup.” Hemi confirmed. 

“That’s a lot of work for just you, but by the looks of you, I’m sure you got it all covered and figured out right?” Pix offered with a solemn nod. 

“I’m still new and still learning.” Hemi humbly answered which earned him a pleasant smile and expression from Pix. 

“Well, then I’ll give you a piece of advice that the last guy didn’t think to listen to when I tried to tell him.” Pix began before Hemi took another step closer so he was standing only a hand’s breadth from her gorgeous and powerful leather clad leg and thigh as she leaned over to him. 

“You know there’s three businesses right?” She asked with a low murmur. 

“The soap business, the firework business and the third business that’s never advertised but has a certain seedy underbelly kind of clientele right?” She mused with a meaningful look and half grin. 

“Perhaps.” Hemi nodded. 

“It’s the clientele of the last one that is both the most profitable and lucrative, yet the most dangerous. Don’t trust any of those customers as far as you could beat them into the ground like a fence pole. Not how hard or how far you could punch or kick or throw them. But use them like a fence pole you’re planting into the ground, only the ground is solid bedrock. Because even though you may threaten them all you want about not talking to the authorities or whatever, those guys will turn on anyone and everyone to save their own skin. They’d sell out their own flesh and blood for a tin coin most of the time. KaBoom and Kisska are usually in the same places at the same time. And there’s lots of times where our routes overlap, if not sync up sometimes. Now I’ve known this whole crew for years. I’ve seen a lot of people of all kinds come and the few who have stayed or the ones to leave, either by choice when the heat gets too hot or by dying and leaving that way.” Pix warned him. 

“Is there anyone else I should keep an eye out for?” Pix asked. 

“And KaBoom has gotten Kisska some really amazing clients because she’s the best midwife besides her own mother and grandmother and while she does good, honest work. She doesn’t always do it for good and honest people. Everyone from the Ruby Empire to Obresh, to Dorierra, to Fitsdale and everywhere in between knows who Kisska Kiana is and what she does.” Pix explained.

“Kisska has worked her ass off on making a good name for herself and carrying on a tradition that’s been in her family for nearly 10 generations now. And building that reputation that precedes her wherever she goes now. And KaBoom in the past, has made sure to tell her and to tell me who in particular I need to keep an eye on and who I need to protect Kisska and our crew from. And it’s usually always the customers of that third thing. So I know from looking around, that I need to keep my eyes on…” Pix began before she looked around and used her head to nod and point out every person who her own sense of protectiveness spiked towards as Hemi’s eyes left hers to follow her line of sight to mentally mark the same people. 

“I’ve only had one run in with that third kind, but they were all the way back in Clayton.” Hemi offered. 

“Ah, the northwest tower of the castle crumbled from an explosion that was only meant to open the sewer gate apparently. They found six in the rubble and three more were caught trying to poison the Duke and make off with his treasury key. They drank the poison they were armed with before they could talk though. But Kisska only had gotten there two days after because the explosion caused the Duchess to go into labor early. But thanks to Kisska getting there quick, the Duchess had her little Duke, a bit earlier than planned, but safe and sound nonetheless” Pix informed him. 

“Then there isn’t anyone else that comes to mind then. I am sorry to hear about the aftermath with the Duchess though. Glad she and the baby made it through though.” Hemi offered as Pix outright smiled fondly at him as she sat back up. 

“Me too. I think we’ll get along just fine, you and me. Keep that handsomely tattooed head on your shoulders clear and on a swivel ok?” She urged him. 

“Yes Ma’am.” He nodded in understanding which made her smile even brighter. 

“So what are the pup’s names?” She asked once Cinni pulled her head up and turned to sniff Hemi some more. 

“Oh this is Hemtar.” He offered as he picked up the closest one so she didn’t have to get off her horse as the puppy squirmed as it tried to climb out of his arms to get to her. 

“Hi Hemtar, you’re pretty big for still having all this puppy fluff on you. But I’m sure once all this gorgeous adult fur grows in you’ll look just as ferocious as your Daddy huh?” She cooed as she happily took the puppy from him and held him as if he was her own puppy as he licked at her face and neck and practically melted into a puddle in her arms.  

“Ooph, and he feeds you so good too! I can see and feel all this big strong muscle through your fluff too!” She cooed as she heard the Diade inside let out a screaming roar as she was clearly in labor and at the part where she was pushing as KaBoom was quick to leave the house as Diade was cussing her mate out as he knelt beside her while she sat in a small basin of hot water to help ease and relax her pelvic muscles while she sat on a low birthing stool. 

“Hey Boom, come here.” Pix called to KaBoom and nodded him over to the other side of her horse as Cinni soon left off sniffing at Hemi and receiving pets from Hemi to look over at KaBoom. 

“Hey Pix.” He answered as he came up to her and kept his remaining fingers out of Cinni’s reach cause Cinni had a tendency to bite anyone she didn’t like or whoever Pix especially didn’t like. KaBoom was pretty sure Pix had trained her to bite on command. 

“Did Kisska tell you about what happened in Clayton?” Pix asked. 

“Yeah, Sorry about that.” He offered apologetically. 

“Look, I get that you don’t really have any control of what happens to the items you sell in dark alleys at night. Or who they’re used on once they’re sold. Or who gets victimized by whoever you sell that shit to- because I know it’s none of my business.  But I know damn well you knew that Duchess McClayton was due three weeks from when she had to deliver that little Duke she was carrying. Because six months ago when we were in Clayton last, and Kisska and Mika were doing a check up and making sure the pregnancy was stable, that she told you about it. And I know she told you how important that particular pregnancy was not just to the McClaytons but the city of Clayton itself. And I get that part of your own cloak of protection is secrecy. But a heads up would have been nice to get.” Pix all but seethed in a snarl as KaBoom’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of green. 

“Because what we got instead, was a damn fleet coming to where we were. They came and escorted us to The McClayton Estate. Kisska had barely cleaned the afterbirth of the baby she had just delivered and the messengers had to wait until that mother delivered the afterbirth while we packed up as quick as we could to come to Duchess’ emergency aid. It was nothing short of a miracle she could hold off until we ran our horses all the way there. The Duke had to pay for us to even change horses twice to the wagons. We just got our proper rides back only the day before yesterday. We made a three day trek by hard riding for practically 16 hours straight and all that hard riding meant that a lot of our stuff got damaged by running on the roads.” Pix leveled at him with anger and irritation as clear the clear blue sky currently was. 

“Yeah, I already gave Kisska whole cases of any soaps she wanted to make up for it.” KaBoom offered. 

“Good. Once Kisska is done in there, her and I need to rework our schedule again and I don’t think we’ll be able to meet back up at Iron Horse like we usually do.” Pix offered. 

“Yeah, I figured as much.” He nodded in understanding. 

“So this is the new Kager huh?” She asked as she nodded over to Hemi. 

“Yup, that’s Hemi.” KaBoom answered as he suddenly realized she was still holding and petting the puppy as he could see Hemi simply give him a curious look over the withers of her already huge draft horse. 

“Yes Ma’am.” He nodded before Cinni lost her patience and pinned her ears back and went to bite at him which got Pix to make a noise to get Cinni to not do it again but that was KaBoom’s cue to back away and walk off. 

“Yeah, we’ve met. But he’s brand new, so I’m gonna ask you my usual. Tell me what I need to know to keep Kisska and the rest of my crew safe.” She demanded before KaBoom dropped his head and came as close as he dared and told her about everyone else he had sold to since him and his crew met up with Kisska and hers as Hemi too kept a sharp ear out for all this information too.

“Thank you for your honesty.” She said before she traded one pup over for another to pet and love on who was putting it’s feet up on Cinni’s leg to try to climb up to Pix before she got to hold Sador for a while. 

“So, where’s Iron Horse?” Hemi asked as he held Hemtar and pet him affectionately. 

“Oh, here.” She said before she handed Sador back so she could get in her satchel to the map she needed. 

“Here.” She said as she showed him as he put the pups down to look it over. 

“Wow, this is one hell of a map. Bird folk make it?” He asked. 

“A special kind of birdfolk- but yeah.” Pix agreed. 

“How much did it cost to buy it? Had to be at least a few bars of gold for a map like that.” Hemi appraised. 

“Right amount, wrong metal.  This one cost me five bars of silver.” Pix grinned before she folded it back up carefully as Hemi’s eyebrows rose in surprise. 

“But that should have only run what, one and a half or two bars of gold though?” He asked before Pix had a peculiar grin on her features as she unfolded the map once more. 

“Ok, you see here on this map, how there’s this settlement, with two dragons in the mountains?” She asked. 

“Yeah.” He said as he tried to memorize how much it would take to get there as he wasn’t familiar with much of anything around it. 

“In this place, if you get the opportunity to sell anything there, you’ll get the best gold for it. But if you want to buy anything there, you better be paying in silver. In your tribe, were there two kinds of currency? One used with the outsiders, but another used just in the tribe among tribe members?” She asked. 

“Yeah.” He nodded. 

“Same thing there. The people who live here with the dragons- they’re of a bird people called moura. To look at them, most of the time they look no different than humans. But human- they are not. Gold is what they use with outsiders, who don’t live there and what they pay to the people who are brave enough to climb that mountain road up to it. Big risk, but big reward right? Because money talks. And very few things speak louder than gold does right?” She reasoned. 

“Gotcha.” Hemi nodded in understanding before they heard the tell tale sign of a baby crying for the first time.

“Usually.” He nodded.

“So in a place that has dragons and they use the dragon’s own hoard of gold to do business with outsiders. But among themselves, silver is king there. You want to sell anything, you get paid in gold by the locals there. You want to buy anything like the maps. You pay in silver because gold to a moura is like trying to pay for something as common as the stones from a stream or on a pathway. Gold is useless and practically worthless to the natives in a mountain colony of them because all gold technically belongs and comes from the dragons right? The fortresses are called ‘colonies’. Because moura are bird folk all the same. But what sets them apart is they are usually always protected by dragons too. And those dragons will burn anyone who the dragons see as a threat. Just the same way some peoples have special relationships with other beings or other creatures? Same thing with them. So my advice, save all your silver and trade all your gold in for silver before you approach a moura colony. That’s the only way you’ll afford much of anything up there. And it’s best to wait to even approach if Kisska or another merchant that already does business with them and approach with them. Because the moura are a skittish and a slow to trust- bunch. And you usually aren’t allowed in without someone they do trust to vouch for you. But among all the bird peoples, they are the best map makers there are, at least, in my experience. Because they’re birdfolk, they can get wings and fly all around the world all the time and map it as they fly over it. So the whole- ‘bird’s eye view’ thing is a real literal thing they have. And they know that most will pay practically their weight in silver for a good one, that’s as current as possible. Because you know as well as I do that lands get conquered all the time. And overnight, a lot of stuff can change.” Pix revealed. 

“Well, that’s my cue. It was nice to meet you Hemi. I gotta go and once Kisska cleans up, we’ll be headed back to the Bayonet Manor and get a chance to regroup and figure out what and how we get to change everything.” Pix said. 

“See you around Hemi.” Pix offered as she got Cinni turned around and got the group ready to leave to go back as soon as Kisska would be done inside. 

“So Pix short for something? Like a longer name?” He asked as he followed her and Abasi, Sussilo and Kaboom could not get off their asses to intervene fast enough. 

“Nope. Just Pix. Why? Is Hemi short for a longer name for you?” She asked before they all paused. 

“Nah, just…Hemi.” He shook his head. 

“Ok then.” Pix nodded. 

“You sure about that name though? You sure it’s not Pix short for Pixie?” He asked and suddenly both crews gasped as Abasi, KaBoom and Susillo were trying to yell apologies at Pix and beg for mercy and leniency for Hemi. Which didn’t make a bit of sense to Hemi who was just confused at the way suddenly everyone was reacting to that. 

But it was as if Pix was ignoring them as she swung her leg off her horse and grabbed his tusks to yank him down to the ground to the point he was suddenly on his knees and looking up at a now very angry Pix. 

“Pix as in Pick Axe, As in I will break these tusks off myself after I break your jaw and shatter it like glass as use them as such. No one calls me Pixie. Because that is not my name. The last guy who tried, I punched him out cold. I shattered his jaw to the point it never mended and when he awoke three days later from the coma my punch sent him into- he didn’t live but an hour before his friends put him out of his misery because by then, they had to amputate his jaw because I punched him into the ground so hard, pieces of his jaw broke through his cheeks and it all got infected and gangrenous. He wasn’t the first and I’m sure he won’t be the last that I will do that too. This is your one warning. Because we just met and Cinni likes you and Cinni is just as picky and choosey about who she likes as I am. The same way I’m sure you’re raising your dire wolf pups to be too. And I know you were just hired to protect KaBoom and his crew. But know this, the fastest way to cross me and get on my bad side is to call me anything other than Pix or Ma’am. Know that I am stronger than I look. And I have fought off dozens of battle hardened warriors turned mercenaries, all by myself at any one time and been the last one left standing. As has every other woman on my security team. We are our own clan. And Kisska is our leader but I am the Warchieftess. And I don’t need or answer to no man, especially one that won’t even use my name the way I have given them the permission to.” Pix snarled down as Hemi’s pups actually took a submissive pose and began to whine for mercy for their master. 

“Your pups are saving you this time. There better not be a next time though.” Pix grunted as she used her hold on his tusks to actually push him away before she walked to the house and knocked on the door. 

“Kisska, kachini.” Pix said through the door. 

“Coming! I’ll be right out.” Kisska answered before Pix pet the wolves and assured them that she wasn’t mad at them as Hemi was just now finding his feet again and brushing the dirt off of himself. 

“Save your breath.” Pix warned the others who immediately shut up and shrunk back and away and went and got Hemi and brought him back to where their own carts were. 

“Is any of that true?” Hemi asked as he moved his jaw from side to side. 

“Oh yeah. She’s beheaded guys for that right in the street for it too. And because she’s orc, it’s excused as a sign of them insulting her honor or Kisska’s or any other woman in that crew. That is Pix’s one button that once you know it’s there, if you accidentally brush against it, heaven help you if you press it once and if you live past pressing it, you never press it again if you want to keep living. The reason she is as big and strong as she is, is because she’s fought against most- thinking she’s somehow their pixie dream girl, woman, whatever. You just got very, very lucky that that’s all she did. She must really like your pups. Otherwise she could have and would have killed you to take them herself. She’s not a woman anyone ever says ‘no’ to. And whatever she asks for, you give, without question. She is the deterrent for Kisska. To keep Kisska safe and her reputation as squeaky clean as it is. She’s had Clan Chief’s offer her the positions of Clan Chieftess to nearly every clan there is, and she’s turned them all down, all for Kisska. Because Kisska, and her midwifing skills, that’s how they make as much as they do. And how they can afford to be a family and a mini clan of their own. Kisska’s dad, is just as scary and just as intimidating as you are. He is a warrior of legend and his younger brother who is just as lethal as he is, they trained Pix. And when Kisska said that she wanted to take midwifing on the road. Pix is her cousin and Kisska’s choice of who she could trust to have her back and keep her safe. I know they don’t look it, but they’re family. And Rogan, Kisska’s dad was only be ok with it, if Pix went with her to keep her safe. And Pix takes protecting Kisska and everyone else in their crew just as seriously as I hope your dad is about your mom right?” KaBoom explained. 

“Ah. I see.” Hemi nodded in understanding. 

“I take it between Rogan and Pix, they keep you from getting any closer to Kisska huh?” Hemi realized as Kaboom’s shoulders dropped in shame. 

“Yeah, that is a fight, a battle and a war I will never win. So the best way I can help her is to tell Pix about all the customers of the third business to keep Kisska safe, that’s all I can manage, that and the soaps and how and why we have it in the first place. Kisska is our best client when it comes that too. So just…from now on, never say the name ‘Pixie’ again. Pix or Ma’am. Usually Boss Lady.” KaBoom urged Hemi as Kisska finally left the house and gave Hemi a curious look before she climbed up into the seat of the cart to finish cleaning the blood off of herself. 

But Hemi, if anything was now more adamant that he found the perfect woman. Because she wasn’t afraid of him or put him into his place for crossing the line. He could only admire and respect her more for it. He didn’t know how or when, but it was going to be his mission to make Pix his mate, one way or another. 

It was the next day that Hemi got to meet Kisska herself as she came back into Slystall to check up on Diade and how she was faring as KaBoom walked her back to where they were set up at. 

“So you’re Hemi?” Kisska asked Hemi as she approached him. 

“Yes Ma’am.” He answered. 

“I take it KaBoom or anyone else on the crew hadn’t told you about my cousin and her ‘piss me off’ button huh?” She asked with an apologetic look. 

“Yeah, I meant no disrespect or offense. I just…Pix as in Pick Axe makes sense.” He managed to say. 

“Yeah. Well, I’m sorry. If I had seen you two interacting I would have pulled you aside and told you myself. Pix is…well she has a really strong personality and really strong reactions.” Kisska offered apologetically. 

“She’s family and she keeps you safe and you’re her family and her path to independence. Of course she should be strong for that.” Hemi appraised which got her to smile appreciatively that he was being as gracious as he was.  

“Yeah. That’s why we’re….more of a band of sisters than anything. Because this keeps us free and independent and none of us want to give it up. But I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to smooth this over.” Kisska admitted but Hemi sensed that Kisska was more repeating that for herself than to inform him as even KaBoom could only nod as Hemi noticed KaBoom’s horns were shorter and were currently sticking out of Kisska’s satchel. 

“It’s me who should be making amends Miss Kiana. What can I do to smooth things over?” He asked which surprised Kisska and KaBoom to see and hear. 

“Uh…I…I don’t…I’d have to think about that one.” Kisska admitted. 

“Here, will this help?” Hemi asked before he went into his own ruck sack and pulled out a jar of black balm as Kisska’s eyes got wide when she saw it before put the whole jar into her hands as she had to work to keep a hold of the huge jug. 

“Hemi, no, this is too much. It was just a misunderstanding and Pix has always had a bad temper, really,  I can’t accept this.” Kisska tried to say. 

“KaBoom hasn’t stopped talking about how much you and your crew has helped him and his business and how you help his soaps and fireworks sell and he sings your midwifing skills to every woman he sees. But that being said. I know because of the association you have with us, that we put you in more danger than you ever should be. And I understand that if I do my job right, neither of you should have trouble. I just didn’t want to drive a wedge between between us. And if this is an acceptable peace offering, it’s worth it if it means it keeps the peace and keeps your crew and mine on good terms. I offended her. I can only hope that this will make up for it.” He plainly stated before she passed the jug to KaBoom only to try to hug him, only able to reach her little arms around the front part of his waist. 

“Thank you so much Hemi. I can sleep better at night knowing that you, as my new friend are keeping my old ones safe and sound. Thank you.” She thanked him genuinely before she took the jug back to carry it like it was a baby of it’s own as KaBoom silently turned around and silently said his thanks to Hemi for the peace offering as he walked her back to the manor. 

[joshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

bought my first Sonic comic ever lol

Okay okay, hear me out. I know I’ve talked a big deal all about oh the nightmares of potentially physically collecting the IDW comics before. And a recap for those unsure - I’ve basically been mentally stuck between getting every single issue individually since that’s the surefire way to collect it all, or going for the IDW Collection, which are special huge hardback releases with 12 issues a piece, which is desirable because I like going big or going home when it comes to collecting things, and I really like having whatever the singular “best version” of something is - like I’ll pick 4K Blu-ray over DVD any day despite not even having a blu-ray player, that type of thing. The IDW Sonic volume releases weren’t even really an option on the table to me. And honestly I think the reason I felt that way specifically is because A) I don’t read comics outside of pirating Sonic ones and B) all my memories of comics I have read have had the shittest, flimsiest paper in the fucking universe, and the notion of collecting paperback comics terrified me just on the basis of assuming they’d feel just as shit and rip super easy.

So how did we get here? Well, it’s a simple story really. I was in hmv, I was standing in the comic section for whatever reason, messaging my friend, and then I literally just caught the corner of the Sonic logo in my eye. Took a proper look and yeah, it was the above volume. And it. Felt amazing! And it looked absolutely supreme as well! I don’t know the usual scale at which these comics are printed but in these volume releases at least the art looks incredible at the size it’s at. Honestly that would’ve been enough for me to buy anyway but as it so happens I actually really like the stories featured in this volume too. And for all that it was only like £16. I just couldn’t say no to it, you know?

And beyond that, I can’t stress enough that despite how much more popular Sonic has been getting recently, I have literally never once in my life seen a Sonic comic physically before. And I think that more than anything was the real sell for me. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen a Sonic comic, regardless of publisher. Wasn’t gonna let the opportunity pass me by.

Anyway suppose I’m on the war path to collect the rest of these volume releases now lol. Wish me luck gamers.

[hp-lonesome-actual-art]

Hey hey so uh…this has been collecting dust in the digital photo album for a long while. I made it back in 2020 as a fun little personal project to try and encapsulate the silly story shenanigans within a fictional multi-fandom roleplay thing I did alongside my cousin. Originally it was just for fun and animating the events from the previous year, however I began to work on it as a Christmas gift for her. It was never finished as is VERY obvious given how the beginning is mostly talking without any visuals…I never got around to doing that part lol. Worked on different audio sections spontaneously so most of the actual animating happens somewhere in the middle. However I recall showing snippets of the animation process with my cousin, so she was able to see some of the work regardless of the completion.

I believe I was either 14 or turned 15 at the time of making this (my birthday is very close to the end of the year so it’s hard to gauge). And it was left unfinished when my cousin died early on in 2021 (she was at the age of 16). I don’t expect anyone else to make sense of what I’m talking about, given how it’s very much an inside joke we created between us and never meant to be shared from an outside perspective. However I haven’t had anyone else to reminisce over these events with and it’s saddening knowing this is a chapter of my life which will always be neglected going forward, due to how in depth the narrative was and the difficulty of getting others to understand it. Even the way I recorded this explanation/audio is very janky and not put together concisely despite being a recap. So sort of stuck in a scatterbrained state for the rest of my life lol

The main point of it all is just….absurd crackship fanfiction-esque character interactions and relationship building. But on a personal note, it means a great deal to me. Because unabashedly making up wacky stories was what made my childhood feel so vibrant and what connected me to my cousin for so many years. It encouraged me to follow my passions of storytelling and character building, and to not take life so seriously. Just indulge in what makes you happy and don’t be afraid to share those passions with others. We both shared a strong attachment to My Little Pony growing up as well as other online fandoms, and I’m grateful for the short lived time I spent with her talking about those shared interests

Then of course, there’s this other one I actually posted to my YouTube in 2021 albeit very subtlety to not garner attention. I’ve been purposely obscuring it from online perception because I’m terrified of the judgments others would place on me. I know people aren’t welcoming of seeing a character they recognize being misconstrued into a different world and with a different story then what is canonically accepted. I get that this is more like an original character scenario and not attached to how he (Snatcher) typically is viewed. So please be aware of that. This was a personal project I spent a shit ton of time on through the school year and made it as a way of coping with the loss whilst expressing appreciation for what could have been. Honestly I don’t know how I managed to color so many frames from it. But it’s also a neat time capsule to see how much I’ve improved animating since then, and a lot of the credit goes to the dedication of making this

Another thing to point out is that I had no fucking clue how to color Snatcher and it shows lol. His expressions are a bit hard to see at some points due to not giving him proper lighting to balance the dark color. But hey that’s fine, like I said this was the most ambitious I had ever gotten for a project and I’ve learned a lot from it. But most importantly was that I got it done as a tribute to her life and these characters we loved <3

Although yeah uh….the version I posted on YouTuber prior to this (“Tribute to Quincy”) had some sort of editing issue I was unaware of until the next day. The animation got corrupted and was glitching in footage, and that sent me into an anxiety attack for a couple hours. I was uncontrollably sobbing myself to sleep that night or so, because the building paranoia that my relatives watched the video made me feel overly vulnerable and fearful even more-so then online strangers watching it. So I don’t think I was in a good mental place to have made the animation public back then, even with the various precautions I took. The video glitching was just the final straw. Think I avoided animating a while afterwards too. So uh….just to say that the intended heartfelt meaning behind the animation got distorted from those events and now is a strange mixture of shame and love whenever I watch it again. I think my perfectionism was just eating me alive at the time, and I felt like I’d let my deceased cousin down somehow? Or that people would only have a surface level understanding of the deeper meaning I wanted to portray. Idk I was operating on a lot of faulty logic at the time with my loneliness controlling a lot of my worldview. The only positive is that experience taught me to never force yourself to work hours on end animating on a holiday….because it will make you internally miserable and susceptible to believing falsehoods about yourself and how others perceive you. Also that miserable Christmas was the exact moment I received the epiphany that I’m afraid of judgment. Before that point it was always just an unnamed nagging feeling that I didn’t know how to describe. Anyways point is terrible experience never recommend :P

Hey I’m putting an edit here because it’s occurred to me that there’s this audio I have of my cousins voice discussing the H&Q roleplay story. I’ve kept it close to me for a long while, maybe in the hopes that someday I would animate it like I had for mine. But I think given how my YouTube is around 240+ subs I can’t bring myself to get vulnerable again or release anything more about our roleplay story. Maybe on my secondary channel, but for now I’ve laid it to rest for personal privacy reasons. Anyways this is her voice recording she made in my room when visiting (she’d noticed I was writing down summaries in my sketchbooks and journals about our story and asked if I would let her read it word for word) I gave her the go to use my iPad for it, and I’m grateful I did. Otherwise I’d have no proof that she collaborated with me on these things

Once again, this is all information that was shared only between the two of us. Characters we made up and played around with. It won’t hold much meaning or significance to anyone else, but I still feel the need to share it. Because when else will I ever be allowed to

[dondon-patapon]

Observation Log 5: 1/15 10:52 PM

Temp: 26 deg.

Weather: Brisk, light wind.

Obs: Thin layer of frost forming on the windows, meteor shower setting in.

This cold front refuses to break, to my frustration. Another day, another struggle to get the lamp lit. Again, my hands numb to the point where strength fails me. So I sit and seethe by the light to warm my bones and think.

There’s change in the air, of this I’m sure. The longest cold snap I can remember, far later than is normal to boot. Don’t know what this means, but combined with all the other oddities 

I’d best keep my eyes sharp, I can hear the rushing of meteors starting to

Observation Log 6: 1/16 8:17 PM

Temp: 23 deg.

Weather: Unbearably cold

Obs: Unnatural lights off in the distance interfering with ops.

I never did get to finish my entry last night. A meteor shower is stressful at the best of times, certainly. But to have it come so close? Another concerning entry to make note of here. Something odd is brewing, and I’m growing more concerned by the day.

Two ships out in the storm. Two. It’s rare enough to see one having taken such a wrong turn. All my focus and prayers towards keeping them intact and seeing them through the mess. The rest of the night I’ll admit was taken up by a haze of tension and uncertainty. Panic, I must admit. It’s been so long since I’ve felt so close to true panic.

Now, after having surveyed the damage from the prior night, I can sit and reflect on everything. My bones ache. Rest has been difficult to come by of late, and it is catching up with me. Weighing heavier and heavier by the day. How much longer can I handle this?

Has this place really ground me so thin to the point where my composure begins to fail me? How truly far I’ve fallen.

A bright rush of daylight singes my eyes; I recoil, blinking rapidly. My eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden change, and back to the darkness. Lights, round-ish, float in the space outside. Emanating various colors, they seem to be full of gases and other indistinct shapes. Like mini worlds of their own, these massive fireflies flit about in odd but intentional patterns. Giving off light so bright it casts shadows of daylight across my little island. A mesmerizing sight-

And then, beyond it all, I see it. It’s looking directly at me.

Observation Log 7: 1/17 8:17 PM

Temp: 23 deg.

Weather: Unbearably cold

Obs: Another meteor shower has begun.

The remainder of last night I will admit I can scarcely remember. As I set about to start my day, I found everything in order from the night before. And yet my memory of the latter part of last night is an indistinct blur, normally reserved for ancient memories. Unusual, really. I can remember these odd firefly-like lights nearby last night, and yet beyond that… nothing.

Whatever the case, I slept better than I have in some time. Even started the lamp on my first try, to boot. My strength has, to some degree, returned. Were it not for the entries I had started from the last two nights, I would have chalked them up to some kind of fatigue fever dream.

But alas, my word is proof enough.

That, and the mess left behind from two nights ago. With that out of the way, I could actually focus on the night before me. Funny thing about a bit of rest, it has such a knack for jogging corners of the brain you’ve thought long buried. In my case, I found myself wondering when the last time I gave this lamp and its associated mechanisms the proper maintenance it so needed.

Between my notes and my memories, I concluded it had been entirely too long. Old gears needing oiled, lantern oil and wick needing topped up and trimmed properly - clockwork tasks my hands automatically walked me through, like old times. Comforting, familiar, most welcome. But most importantly, in control. The most productive day I’ve had in some time. It’s no wonder I’ve had so much trouble of late getting this old thing lit, I’ve let it go for entirely too long.

Heh. Not necessarily the most noble of epiphanies to have had, but it makes me feel a bit better. I’m not falling apart at the seams, not quite yet. There’s always a simple explanation to be found.

Tomorrow I may try and organize those notes and documents I salvaged from the beach. For now, though, a little more rest couldn’t hurt. This has been the most productive day I’ve had in some time.

[loiswolf]

Day 46 July 16 Ignace - Upsala 108kms

This morning was the first rainy morning I think I’ve had all trip. First I popped over to Subway to collect three more cookies for the road.

Again there was absolutely nowhere to stop for a coffee today and only one rest area, I needed some supplies.

I left a bit later than I intended because I’ve been trying to figure out where I’m staying a few days ahead. Everything is booked out so it’s very stressful finding places to stay. I also have a deadline because I’ve booked a flight home and to get the extra baggage allowance for Shirley, I made it a bit sooner than I would have liked.

So I had pinkie and the poncho on when I left this morning. Yesterday was a bit cooler than usual and today was even colder….with rain.

It rained pretty steadily for the first 25kms then seemed to stop. The road was good again so I just put my head down and pushed on. I don’t think I put my foot down at all until the rest stop at 46kms. That’s very unusual for me. There are usually a couple of toilet stops after my breakfast coffee and some unlayering. The plastic layers were keeping me warm so I left them on.

Another lovely rest stop presented itself right where I had estimated it.

There was even shelter so I didn’t have to sit on wet seats. I enjoyed a few of my cookies and read my kindle while my plastic layers dried off a bit.

There were two motels a bit under 10kms ahead and I was hoping I might be able to get a cup of coffee out of one.

The first one was at least open but there was no one there. I walked into what I thought might be the breakfast room hoping to score some leftover coffee but unintentionally walked into their kitchen. If I was staying at that motel I would not be wanting to eat breakfast from that kitchen. It was disgusting!

The second place was closed and there were some big black clouds approaching so I thought I’d better move on.

The wind was supposed to be behind me today and I was hoping to cruise into Upsala being pushed along by a tailwind. It was not to be. The wind was all over the place and often pushing me back. The hills seem to increase in number over the last 30kms.

The sun came out so I stopped to take off Pinkie and then took off my long sleeves as well. It was suddenly warm. There wasn’t much to photograph today so I took this where I stopped , only because there was something to lean Shirley against.

When I took those photos I noticed the time on my iPad had changed. I think I lost another hour.

Since there are not many photos and I didn’t get a proper break I thought I’d put in some fond memories of past breaks which I didn’t post.

This was the coconut cream pie I had at Sophie’s 30kms before Cedar Creek.

And this was an absolutely delicious treat I indulged in when I was in Winnipeg. I bought it at a specialty cake shop when I went out for groceries and enjoyed it back in my apartment.

Back to reality…eventuality I cycled into Upsala which is a very small place. I couldn’t see the motel so I pulled into the service station/general store. The shop man told me the motel was another five minutes up the road. I did mention that distance is measured in kilometres, not time, as these estimates are very unhelpful for a cyclist. Everyone here, including the signs, measures distance in time. 😔

He was kind of sweet, rather like a character off a TV show who talks with a slow drawl and a big smile. I purchased some food off him for dinner tonight, rearranged everything on Shirley, then rode off.

It was only another three kilometres to the motel. The owner here is like another TV character, a bit like a retired policeman. The motel is old but ok.

This lovely park is across the road in case I want to swim. I don’t.

Apparently there are bears around! I thought I’d passed all that. It sounds like the people next door have bears in the room judging by the way their kids are thumping around. I hope they go to bed early!

[delfiore]

Congrats on 1,000! Very well deserved! 😊

For the requests, can I please request Amy March 13 & 38

a/n: the ages and stuff are all messed up and not following canon oh well! opening with any; closing with amy. thank you everyone who sent it requests, and to everyone i didn’t get to i’m rly sry but it was getting a bit overwhelming so i’ve decided to stop the requests here. not to fret; i’m returning to writing long fics and will be adding some new characters soon!!

13: You can keep pretending, but you’ll never be happy.

38: I deserve more than this.

word count: 1.0k

It was the same old story. You knew from the moment you realized your feelings for Amy that you would be chasing after her for the rest of your life, for there was, frankly, no greater love to you than your love for her.

You had become friends at school, the awkward yet charming youngest March girl had owed you so much pickled limes you could be her loan shark for the rest of her life. Somehow, you decided to spare her and, in return, made her become your friend instead.

While you were best friends with Amy, you didn’t overlook the fact that she always wanted to hang with the older kids more, especially her older sisters and their neighbor, Laurie. Thinking back now, it was almost as if you were an afterthought, and she would only play with you once they wouldn’t let her come with. You thought you did your duty well as a friend, though, and Amy never felt alone whenever she was you.

Until the day you kissed her.

It happened so quickly. You were playing in the woods behind the March house—both of you fourteen of age. In the midst of a chase, she had caught you and sent both of you tumbling onto the red-hued leaves on the ground. One moment, she was on top of you laughing until her face turned as red as the leaves, the next you had perked up and pressed your lips against hers.

Amy didn’t know what she was feeling. These new sensations scared her, and she didn’t want to see you anymore lest she had to deal with them. She convinced herself that she loved Laurie, and that hearing of his love confession to Jo simultaneously broke her and gave her relief at the same time, yet you were there, at the back of her mind, calling and calling until all she could think about was you.

“Amy. Listen to me.” You walked in front of her. “I know not what the future holds, nor what to do next, but I know that I—I . . . I love you, Amy. I think I’ve loved you ever since we were children.”

Amy was 16, and ready to go out into the world as a fine, proper lady. And fine, proper ladies can’t love other ladies.

“Y/N, I can’t.” She shook her head. She could not remove the memory of you kissing her behind your house out of her head. There was a fine line you’ve maintained, between friends and more, that has kept Amy coming back for more these past couple of years.

“Why not?”

“Because, Y/N.” Amy gritted her teeth, stepping closer. “It isn’t proper.”

You scrunched your forehead. “It has never been a issue for you before. Why now?”

“Because—“ The truth was what she owed you, “because I am going to Europe with my Aunt March, and we shan’t see each other again.”

The look you gave her she would never forget. You had never looked so angry with her before, and it frightened her.

“I deserve better than this. I deserve better than you! Damn you, Amy March! Go on off to Europe and dawdle with your damned drawings! Go on and forget all about me! I hate you!”

You stalked off without a backward glance and that was the last time she saw you.

And now, there you were. Walking towards her at this godforsaken ball as if nothing ever happened, as if your hearts weren’t beating wildly in their respective cages at the sight of one another.

“Amy.” You said with a radiant smile, and leaned in to kiss her left cheek, then her right. “It’s been so long.”

“Yes, it has been.” Amy breathed slowly, tugging at the gloves on your arm.

You were no longer the free-spirited teenager that she left, but a mature woman in a squared-shoulder stance and a sophisticated red ball gown. She hated this new you. You were just like everybody else here—fabricated and pretentious. The worst part was she fell victim to it too.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, surprised.

“I’m here visiting a family member, and made a couple of friends that invited me to this ball. If I had known you were in Paris, I would have come to visit sooner.” You smiled, your eyes crinkling too much.

Amy nodded distantly. “We must catch up.”

“Yes, of course! You must have been getting on with a lot of things, haven’t you, Ms. March? Or I suppose it’s Mrs. Vaughn now, isn’t it?”

She let out a mirthless laugh. “How did you hear about that?”

“Only if it’s the most talked-about bachelor in town tying the knot.” You said, mirroring her smile.

Amy opened her mouth to speak, but you beat her to it. “You know it’s funny. I always thought it’d be Laurie, but I guess lying to a man you barely know is easier.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Y/N.” She shook her head and released you. “If you were in my position, you would have done the same.”

“No, I wouldn’t have.” You smiled sadly. “I would rather die than be a chained to domesticity. You can keep pretending, but you’ll never be happy.”

Amy didn’t want to speak, and say the wrong thing.

“If you want to though . . . If you want to feel what Mr. Vaughn could never give you, meet me at the orchid garden tomorrow night.”

She saw you then, your 16-year-old self, with tears streaming down your face, begging her to love you. She never even entertained the idea, because she knew giving in would mean giving up everything else. But you were the only one she could truly be herself with, the only one that accepted her for who she was, ambitions and tempers and all.

As you walked past her and she heard your cheerful voice directed at someone else, she pondered your invitation, for the first time putting everything else on the scale against her own happiness.

[nat-20s]

8 for jmart?

#8- constantly cheacking their messages for words from the other

what else was I gonna do? here's some classic ol' season 3 pining babey

Hello Martin. This is Jon. I have gotten a new phone after losing my last one, please put in the new number.

It's a simple message. Straightforward, factual, and utilitarian. There is no reason that pressing send should make his heart race. There's especially no reason that the second he sends it off, he's tempted to lie on the deeply uncomfortable, likely bedbug infested motel mattress staring at his screen until he gets a response. Sure, he's sick of being overseas, and he's sick of being so isolated, and he's sick of running, but he's not...desperate for what little companionship can even be provided by words on a screen.

He does miss Martin, though. He misses Tim as well, but in a manner that's significantly more complex and knotted than the simple desire to be around him.

God, when did he start wanting to just be around Martin? He started being aware of that want when he was at Georgie's, but he has no idea when the want itself actually started. That was probably something he should examine. Technically speaking, that is something that he has time to examine, but he doesn't want to examine right now. Right now, he wants the comfort of perhaps one of the only people out there that doesn't want to kill him, or use him, or both.

Martin, whether through somehow sensing Jon's discontent from nearly 4000 miles away or, more likely, through a general dutifulness inherent to his character, only takes a few minutes to reply. Oh good! it'd been a little bit since hearing from you, we were somewhat worried. putting you in my contacts as we speak :)!

Saying that "we" were worried is almost certainly generous on Martin's part, but Jon feels no need to point that out. Instead he turns on his side and stares at the phone. He particularly focuses on the smiley face, ridiculously charmed by the fact that, despite everything, Martin hasn't lost his predilection for emojis. Two years ago, he would've rolled his eyes, maybe thought something snide about professionalism. It wouldn't have been fair, as Tim used to do the same thing and he thought nothing of it, but he wasn't fair back then. Now, he simply wonders if he can get away with sending one back.

Before he can respond, Martin sends another message. Are you actually alright? I realized I was kind of assuming that losing your phone was the only reason you were MIA, but is anything else going on?

Damn. He tends to forget how perceptive Martin can be. What, exactly, Martin had perceived in that first message, Jon couldn't be sure, but apparently there was something that tipped him off to the..eventful last week he'd had. He really, really doesn't feel like getting into all of that right now, especially not over text, so instead he replies a mostly truthful I'm fine.

Then, squinting at the screen and realizing that might come across as a dismissal, he adds, Well, other than trying not to contemplate the general sanitation practices of a motel that clearly hasn't updated it's decor since the 70s. I'm suspecting the sheets are much the same.

He doesn't know how Martin will react to the message. He can't see the face he'll make, won't know the tone of his voice. However, he likes to imagine that Martin will at least smile. Maybe he'll even give that breath of a laugh, the one that sometimes happens when Jon's being lightly acerbic and it's not directed at him. He doesn't know, but he does hope for it. Martin texts back Oof. Maybe sleep on top of the covers tonight, yeah?, and Jon thinks that he might have guessed Martin's reaction correctly.

Christ, who knew all it took was a combination of jetlag and threats to turn him into a sap. He needs to sleep. He really needs a deep, proper, uninterrupted sleep, one lasting a minimum of eight hours and ideally closer to fifteen. Checking the time, it would be a fairly reasonable time to sleep, especially with the early start he has tomorrow. He considers sending off a quick good night message, but then has the realization that as reasonable as it is for him to be asleep right now, it's just as unreasonable for Martin to be awake. Are you alright? Good lord, Martin, it's almost 4am over there. Did I wake you?

Barely 30 seconds pass before he gets back no, you're good!

A beat, then a follow up message. I've had a irregular sleep schedule since I was like 16. A lot of evening and night shifts had a lasting impact u know? Working at the institute made it a bit more consistent but it's still p rare that i sleep the same eight hours night to night.

Jon's starts to text back something sympathetic; he's had his own struggles with both in- and hyper- somnia, but his phone buzzes in his hand before he can finish it.

Sorry! That was uh probably more information than you wanted.

Well, that just won't do. Even if there wasn't a part of his brain that had recently started collecting facts about Martin like they were precious jewels instead of mostly mundane stories, he doesn't want Martin to think he can't talk to him about things outside of the standard bounds of coworkers. Not at all. We're friends, Martin, I enjoy learning about you.

His brain wants to catastrophize the second he presses send. For the first minute that Martin doesn't reply, he doesn't let it. After the second minute, he allows the minor worry to become more severe. Had it been too much? Were they friends? Jon certainly thought so, but what if Martin wasn't in the same boat? Their interactions had been entirely friendly for months now, but what if that was just Martin being polite? God, what if Martin still thought of Jon as his boss, nothing more?

Ten minutes. It takes ten minutes for Martin to finally respond, and Jon has almost called him four times to explain himself. Ten minutes, and the first response is only Oh!

Then: Cool

Well, that's not a "piss off and die", but it's not exactly comforting. Jon doesn't know how to reply, staring at the words on his screen and not entirely sure if he's fucked up or not. Fortunately, Martin's not done responding, and the next message is much, much better.

Hey uh. Feel free to say no I know it's getting late over there but. Im not getting back to sleep for the rest of the day and itd be nice to actually hear you. Would you be okay with a call?

Without a moment's hesitation, he texts back Yes!, exclamation and all, because he's become someone he barely recognizes. The phone rings just as immediately, and he feels his entire body relax at Martin's first "Hello?"

Things are difficult right now. Things have been difficult ever since the promotion that was a curse in disguise. The world is filled with monsters he barely understands. He wishes he was home despite the fact that he barely recognizes it, as filled with tension and strife as it is. There's so much to discuss, so many things they should be hammering out. But right now, the threats are not pressing. Right now, he can hear about the bad true crime documentary Martin half-watched before he got Jon's texts, and Jon can bitch about the three different "pip pip cheerio" comments he's gotten since coming over seas. Right now, and for the hour before Jon drifts off, breathing slow and deep, he can pretend that this is an ordinary phone call, in an ordinary world, between two people who simply miss each other an extraordinary amount.

[shokobuns]

“𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭”

in which you slowly give into your desires.

PAIRING: maid!zenin maki x f!housewife!reader

GENRE: smut, some fluff, some angst, slowburn (ish)

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: nsfw, 16+ smut, slowburn ish?, mentioned misogyny, infidelity, unhappy arranged marriage, angsty marriage, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f receiving), kitchen sex, sex in shared bed, face sitting/riding, 69, exhibitionism, squirting, light degradation, praise, pussy slapping, finger sucking, spit kink, consensual panty stealing, masturbation (f), first time for oral, slight corruption, implied dumbification, dom!maki. slight mommy kink, humiliation (kind of)

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, Honey.”

You peck your husband on the lips goodbye before he’s out the door with a briefcase in hand and his suit as neat as ever. Staring at the leftovers, you sigh before eventually picking up the plates and pilling them in the sink, scrubbing off the sticky mess of maple syrup. Soap suds cover up your gloves as you lather them in bubbly water and plan out the rest of your day. The dishes, the laundry, a few episodes of that one show you barely pay attention to, lunch, more dishes, more laundry, a start on dinner.

You can’t help but wonder — Is this it?

You love your husband, something you remind yourself repeatedly when he’s gobbling down on the rice on his dinner plate and when he’s leaving his dirty clothes all over your bedroom floor. You love him. You want to bear his children, want to raise them, want to do the chores so that he doesn’t. You want to cook, to clean, to do everything for the sake of his pleasure. It’s what your mother insisted, it’s what she did, and it’s what her mother did. You love your husband.

Is this it?

Twenty years old, a husband with a stable living, something that can suffice for the rest of your life. All you need is to do your chores, give him your body, be his prim and proper wife. It sounds fairly easy, another thing that your mother insisted, so what is it?

Why do you crave more? Why do you have to remind yourself that you love him, love this life at all?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on your door. When you open it, you’re met with the sight of a tall girl with glasses. She’s in a black maid dress that stops at her knees, complemented by the white apron that flows along with the part of the skirt, ruffling at the end. She has a bag hanging on her shoulder and her expression shows slight amusement at your surprise. Surely, she’s at the wrong house, right?

“Are you (Y/N)?”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter out, not realizing that you were staring, “Uh, w-who are you?”

“I’m Zenin Maki, but you can call me Maki,” she observes your figure, noticing the sly nervousness radiating off of your expression, “Your husband hired me. Said he wanted someone to help you out.”

“O-Oh.”

“May I come in?”

“Of course.” You move to the side, watching the woman scan your house. It’s slightly messy, a result of your husband not cleaning up after lounging in the living room, and she doesn’t waste time to clean it up, rearranging the decorative pillows and helping you carry the leftover dishes to the sink. Just as you’re about to put on your gloves, her hand comes out to grab your wrist and the other takes it out of your hand. “Don’t. I got this.”

You step back, watching Maki put on the gloves herself, lathering the dishes as you did before. You don’t know what to do, standing there awkwardly as she places them in the dishwasher. It’s a given opportunity to observe how her skirt stops right above her knee, flowing out naturally and modestly accentuating her body. Her headband compliments the look, her hair tied back with bangs covering up her forehead, stopping short of her glasses. Warmth creeps up your neck to your cheeks and you sharply look away, focusing your vision on the bowl of apples on the center of the dining table.

“You can rest, Miss. But I’m going to need help putting away the dishes later. Is that okay?” She asks and you turn around to give her a nod. “Is there anything else you need done?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, you really don’t need to-”

“I was hired to help you out with chores. Please, do not worry about me.”

You sigh in defeat, looking directly at her face, her pretty face. She had a sharp expression, piercing eyes that can bore into your soul, defined cheekbones. A sensation of uneasiness rested in your lower belly and you realize you’re staring when she waves a hand over your face. “Hello? Miss?”

“S-Sorry! I was just thinking about something!”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking if you can help me put some of the dishes away just for today. I don’t know where everything is and I don’t like disorganization.”

“Of course. Of course.”

“You need anything else?”

“Folding the laundry, for now, I think? The clothes should be dry. Everything is upstairs.”

She follows behind you as you bring her out to the terrace where your laundry hangs on a string. Dresses, button ups, and ties of earth toned colors adorn the area and you touch the fabrics. The sun had definitely done its job. Maki is already setting up the ironing board that was previously laying in the corner of your bedroom and gathering your husband’s work attire together. When she’s done flattening the creases on the pieces of clothing, you take them, hanging and folding. With her help, you were finished in half the time it usually took you.

“Thank you, Maki. Really, I appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Miss. Your husband hired me to do my job and I am happy to help.”

As you hang your last dress, you give her a smile.  

—

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your husband’s voice sounds throughout the house as he’s met with the sight of you and Maki laying out plating foods and placing them on the dinner table. He smiles and you walk towards him to greet him with a hug and a kiss. Maki continues with the task, sparing a glance at the both of you. “You didn’t tell me you hired a maid,” you whisper to your husband, “Though, she has been very helpful.”

“I’m glad, Honey.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Kind of curious as to why you hired one in the first place.”

“I’ll tell you later. Let’s have dinner, alright?” He shoots you a grin before looking over to Maki. “Feel free to stay for dinner, Maki!”

“I’m alright. I should get going anyways—”

“Nonsense!” You husband eagerly responds, pulling out an extra chair just for her, “My dear wife here says you’ve been helpful.”

“I have classes.”

“Oh. Well you might as well take some home!” You suggest, walking over to your tupperware cabinet.

Before you go back to your husband, you plate some food for her to take home and make sure she makes it back to her car as she walks out the door. You let out an involuntary sigh, leaning against the doorway and feeling content that you now have an extra hand.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Why do we need a maid?”

“Simple,” he grabs your hands from across the table, “I think we’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to have kids, silly woman!” His laughter booms throughout the entire room, “I mean you’ll have to get off birth control and everything, but I think it’s time.”

You laugh nervously as he leans in for a kiss. “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know about this.”

“What?” He stands up, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, “Why not?”

“I’m just kind of, uh, scared? I don’t know if I’m ready and we just got married a few months ago, you know?”

“Come on, don’t be scared,” he reassures you, kissing your cheek, “I hired Maki to be our maid to lay the stress off of you. I offered her an in-house job, which she’ll be starting next week, just so that you could rest easy while you’re pregnant.”

“In-house? Is she going to live with us?”

“Of course! She’s a college student, so she doesn’t mind getting paid and living in a house,” he explains before going back to the topic, “So please. I want you to have our baby. We can start tonight.” He suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

“O-Okay.”

—

The next few days, the cycle continues.

Maki comes in the morning, usually just about right before your husband leaves for work, and she helps you throughout the day. Doing dishes, folding clothes, cleaning the bathroom. Most of the time you help her, usually against her will, but it leads to a calm and comforting silence when you work together. She’s moving in soon, two days to be exact, and you think it’s time to get to know a little bit about her.

One problem; She’s reserved, which intimidates you, and you’re too scared to start a conversation.

Eventually, you’re going to have to break the ice. So you do it as she’s ironing the clothes and you’re putting them away. You think up a few basic questions, mulling them over as to not make her uncomfortable because you want to get to know her.

“My husband tells me you’re in university right now. What’s your major?”

“Sports science.” She replies bluntly, continuing her task.

“Oh, cool cool,” you try to figure out a way to continue, but come up blank. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk.

“What do you do when your husband is not around?” She asks curiously, as if she sensed your desire to hold the conversation.

“Chores, usually,” you frown, “Sometimes I watch TV, but I wish I was able to do other stuff. I really like painting, too. But I haven’t done much of that ever since we got married.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to become an artist. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, but my family wanted stability for me so they introduced me to a family friend’s older son,” you smile, memories of your younger self filling up your head before a sense of sadness falls over your expression, “They said this would be good for me. And it is. My husband is a good man, I have a roof over my head and dinner on the table everyday, you know. I’m not complaining,” you pause, reeling out of your own thoughts, “Sorry if I just overshared.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she reassures you, “Just out of curiosity, how old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“That’s funny, I’m twenty one.”

“You’re closer to my age than my husband,” you laugh, folding another white button up before placing it in a drawer, “We are in very different positions.”

“Yes, we are,” she chuckles, “A struggling college student and a cool housewife.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say cool—”

“Nonsense!” She grumbles, an attempt to mock your husband.

“Nonsense!”

“Nonsense!”

The both of you laugh and you realize how she seems almost angelic. The look in her eyes that was once piercing and intimidating was soft and heavenly. Her cheeks are flushed red and her smile was alluring. Before you even realize it, a feeling of warmth settles in your lower belly and it gets harder and harder to take your eyes off of her. Her chuckle was music to your ears and you’ve internally decided that it was one of your favorite sounds.

—

“Goodnight, Honey.”

He plants a kiss on your sweaty forehead before turning his back towards you, opting to hug a pillow on the side instead. Everything is wet, sticky, and gross, but before you can say anything, your husband is already fast asleep, little snores filling the air of the master bedroom. You lay down for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling in the dark until you gather up the last of your willpower to get up and clean the mess between your legs.

It was an okay night.

Sure, you came, but it was just boring. There was nothing to it, only the huffs and groans and praises from your husband as he lived out his fantasy of finally being able to breed you. You’re happy to provide him, as long as it makes him happy, because he loves you and you love him. Even if you have to clean up the mess yourself, even if you don’t finish, even if that rush of loving emotion that everyone seems to describe never hits you.

You’re happy.

That’s what you tell yourself anyways. Yet, your fingers rub furiously on your clit while the other pumps in and out of your dripping cunt. You’re close and you pretend that it’s her fingers You pretend that it’s her fingers that you’re clenching around, her mouth leaving soft kisses from your neck down to your exposed breasts. You pretend that you’re tugging on dark hair, asking for more, but when you come down from your high, the ringing in your ears stops suddenly and the snores overtake your hearing once again.

Maki.

It’s wrong, disgustingly wrong, but there’s no way to escape her. Not when she’s in your house in the morning, the afternoon, and the evening. She helps with everything, things that you didn’t even consider yourself, talks to you about the things you like. And you know that her favorite color is black, her family would have much rather preferred if she went the same route you did, and she likes junk food a little too much.

You also wonder when you should tell your husband that you definitely have not gone off those pills.

—

“Miss?”

“Yes?” You respond, a grocery bag in your arms filled with different fruits, vegetables, and meat. Although you've made a few additions to your list and you were unsure at first, but as Maki empties it, her eyes light up at the sight of the bright little bag.

“You got chips?”

“Well, yeah. They’re for you. I know you liked them.”

She beams at you and it’s almost blinding. There’s an odd flutter in your stomach and you ignore it, but it only becomes stronger when she rips open the bag and munches on the whole thing in seconds. The small satisfied moan from the first bite has you internally celebrating. She looks at peace. All she’s doing is eating a bag of her favorite chips, yet it fills you with some unexplainable feeling of warmth. You make another mental note to buy even more next time.

—

“What do you think of him?”

“Who?” She asks, sitting up on the couch as she watches you get lost on the canvas in front of you.

“My husband.”

“Oh,” she pauses, her hand coming from under her chin to think, “He’s pretty cool, I guess. He also pays me which is pretty cool, you know.”

“Come on, I won’t tell him,” you insist, coming close, your hands involuntarily brushing over hers. She doesn’t pull them away, letting you rest them, enjoying the extra warmth.

“I mean, he’s a man, alright.”

“What does that even mean?”

“No offense,” she continues, finding the least rudest way to say it, “He’s kind of basic, you know? Which isn’t bad but he yells at the TV when watching football, has you light his cigarettes, and waits for you to serve him food. Just your typical husband things, I guess.”

“Are you saying my husband is boring?” You ask with a stoic face, watching the fear fill her eyes.

“No, no! That’s not what I—”

“Kidding,” you chuckle as she purses her lips before joining along, “I was just curious.”

“Well, why?”

“I don’t know,” you say, sighing as you think of all the times he did anything romantic for you, “He’s a good man, you know that, right?”

“Well, of course.”

“He brings me flowers, gives me goodnight kisses, tells me he loves me, but—” you pause, afraid to finish the thought. Your heart pounds at the mess of ideas on your mind and you’re ashamed, “I don’t know if I feel that love thing those people always talk about.”

“What do you mean?”

She’s intrigued to say the least. You’re fiddling your thumbs with a nervous smile on your face. All the while, the music you put on fades in the background until it’s only the two of you, hearts beating fast, blood rushing to your cheeks. When you finally look her in the eye, she doesn’t miss how glassy they look and that’s when her suspicions are confirmed without a verbal sentence — you’re unsure.

“He- Well, I don’t know. Forget I said anything about it,” you clasp your hands together before getting back to work in the kitchen, “And please, don’t tell him.”

Uncertainty, you’re most definitely full of it, but Maki is almost sure she’s figured it out before you have and she likes to think that she’s gotten to know you. She’s picked up how you play with your fingers when you’re unsure, how you smooth down your dress when you try to keep your composure, how that your smile loses genuinity while you’re at the dinner table. She decides it’s not her business, she’s only the housemaid and you’re just the housewife she works under.

But she’ll always be there for you with open arms if you need it.

—

“We gotta make breakfast, Maki.” You poke her side, waking her up from a deep sleep.

You’re already ready for the day, the top half of your hair already tied in a bun and a lilac colored dress adorning your figure. She’s caught off guard when she opens her eyes and you’re sitting up on the side of the bed poking at her hip. Her vision is blurry without her glasses, but she can clearly smell the sweet scent of vanilla perfume. Taking in a deep breath, she sits up, too, reaching for her glasses on the bedside table.

And her sleek, black hair cascades down her shoulders, though it’s slightly messy, you’re tempted to run your fingers through the soft looking strands. You’ve seen Maki in her maid uniform at home, jeans when she goes out to shop, but the sight of her in a satin night dress was different and your breath hitches when the blanket falls off the upper half of her body. It’s a loose fit and she looks absolutely ethereal, almost like an angel.

She turns her head to the side and you fake cough, trying to make up for staring a little too long. “I know your day doesn’t start yet, but I was hoping to get some help on breakfast today. Is that alright with you?”

“Of course, Miss. I’ll go get ready right now.

“Cool.”

You walk down to the kitchen, preparing a pie crust for your quiche and reading through the recipe you were given by a friend. By the time you blind bake the crust, Maki joins you in her usual attire. “Need anything, Miss?”

“While the quiche is baking, I just need you to make some cookie dough. Just the usual, my family is coming over later.”

“Of course.”

She gets to work right away, finding the ingredients immediately as you fill up your empty pie crust and dance around the kitchen. Right after the quiche is placed in the oven, your hips sway along with the music that plays in the radio. It’s all soft and slow, Maki smiling at your antics while you jokingly attempt to serenade her. She’s mixing in the chocolate chips into the dough and you walk forward, energetic and lost in the song.

You don’t think much of it when you grab her hip and your faces come closer together. One second, you were playfully dancing around your kitchen and the next, your breaths mingle, the gap between the two of you closing. It’s her who decides to lean forward, soft lips meeting together, your back suddenly meeting the edge of the counter. Her hands rest on the surface, each on either side of you, and her lips taste like cherries. Your hands come up to her cheeks as your mouths meld together until it’s hard to breathe.

You pull away first, remembering that your husband is still sleeping upstairs. “What are we doing?”

“Don’t know,” she replies, her hand starting to trail under the skirt of your dress, “It feels right, though.”

“Should we stop?” You mutter, just barely enough for her to hear.

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

It gives her the extra rush of courage to get under your dress and push your body until your back is flat on the counter. Luckily, there was nothing underneath except for a pair of plain black panties, a damp spot right in the middle. Her thumb presses on your clothed clit and by the way your body squirms she knows you’re sensitive which only adds to the sadistic fun of pulling down your underwear at an agonizingly slow pace. “Need you,” you breathe out, your legs being positioned on her shoulders, “I need you, please.”

“I got you, Baby. Don’t worry.” She replies with a smile, her breath hitting your wet cunt.

Your breath hitches as her tongue trails up from your hole up to your sensitive pearl and she moans at the sweet taste of your arousal. Her hands keep a firm grip on your thighs, holding them open as you bite your lip to contain your moans. He’s right upstairs, you think, but any thought of caution starts to leave you once her soft lips wrap around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves causing your knuckles to turn white as they grab onto the edge of the counter.

Your husband has never touched you like this. Ever.

The feeling of her mouth is foreign, but welcome. Before you know it, the grip on one of your thighs loosen and two fingers slip into your soaked cunt. She’s gentle at first, the pumps of her digits ever so delicately pressing against your g spot, but once you hike up the skirt of your dress and thread your fingers through her hair, she speeds up, hitting hard and fast. “M-Maki— Shit!”

You squeal when her tongue starts massaging your clit and your walls clench despite being empty, “Such a pretty girl,” she coos, watching in awe at how your slick coats her fingers, “Such a pretty pussy.”

Lewd praises and squelches fill the kitchen air as the coil in your stomach builds and snaps until your cunt is gushing all over her. Your back arches as you reach your high and she leaves a trail of kisses from your thigh to your sopping pussy. Bringing her fingers to your mouth, she gives you one command.

“Suck.”

You obey, wrapping your soft lips around her digits, swirling your tongue and she gives a graceful smile, brushing a thumb over your flushed cheeks. A sheen of sweat covers your forehead, but the sound of footsteps brings you out of your thoughts. Maki pockets your underwear, giving you a wink, before washing her hands and taking the nearly forgotten quiche out of the oven.

By the time you hear the footsteps of your husband, you’re decent, minimal signs of physical exertion just barely noticeable. She’s going through her usual routine of plating your food in front of the two of you, doing the dishes, laundry, everything. You want to say something, you really do, and you’re left with your own questions.

At night, you’re left pondering the strong women with silky black hair whilst in the arms of your husband.

—

Two days.

That’s how long it’s been since you’ve gotten the most mind blowing orgasm of your life. Your panties are still missing, though you don’t mind knowing who has them. And when you think about the things your mother has told you repeatedly about your perfectly structured life, it crumbles with each second. When you look at the face next to you, the indifference in your heart starts to become more and more prominent.

And even though you should feel guilty — well, you do — you also don’t regret it at all.

You still do your chores as expected, make the bed, cook dinner. You still organize the laundry, do the dishes, and tend to your rose garden. You still disinfect, fold, and have sex with your husband who’s indifferent to your pleasure every night. Almost every domestic activity was accompanied by Maki, who often sought to take over or help.

Yet, she wouldn’t even look at you.

She wouldn’t say anything that didn’t pertain to a grocery list or a command and it was infuriating. Still, you were determined to bring it up — how could you not? As you fold blankets on the couch and think, you call out her name. “Maki?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Are we going to talk about what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

Your heart drops a tiny bit, it was an expected response based on the fact it felt like she was avoiding you, but you still had to swallow the lump in your throat. “Nevermind. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” She asks as you’re looking down on the rug, trying to focus on the pattern instead of the woman in front of you.

“I’m just sorry I brought it up. I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry that we did whatever that was,” you take a deep breath as forming tears blurred your vision, “I’m sorry that I can’t fucking do this, Maki. I don’t love him. I can’t love him.”

She sighs, scooching forward and closer to you then pulling the half folded blanket from your hands. “You shouldn’t be sorry. This was my fault.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“You’re just, I’m just—” you inhale again, trying to find the right words to say, “You’re different. You’re different from him in all the best ways. You listen to what I have to say, you care about how I feel.”

“That’s something that any good friend would do—”

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh.”

She brings her fingers to your chin, nudging your head up until you’re looking her in the eyes for the first time in days. She gazes at you, appreciating every curve and every mark on your skin. You take this as an opportunity to lean in, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She doesn’t stop it, instead indulging in the act, cupping your cheeks.

It soon becomes hungry, her tongue slipping past your lips, you being rolled over onto your back as she slips her hand under your floral dress. She presses a finger against your clothed cunt, causing you to gasp and throw your head back. At the same time she leaves sloppy kisses on the exposed skin of your neck and you struggle to form a coherent sentence.

“M-Maki, stop,” you whimper and she pauses, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Oh?” She smirks, giving you another breathless kiss, “Wanna put that mouth to use, Baby?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, “Wanna make you feel good, Mommy.”

Her expression is filled with pride as she drags her fingers across your face and into your mouth. You comply with the silent command, wrapping your lips around the digits and sucking softly, swirling your tongue around them. “Good girl.”

You let out a hum while she discards her panties somewhere on the ground and her bare cunt hovers over your face. It’s intimidating, yet the sight of her glistening folds makes you wet. All you wanted to do was taste her, drink up all of her juices, and when you finally do you can’t get enough. Despite the lack of experience, you do what you think would feel good, giving experimental licks, noting when her body twitched and when she would let out a saccharine moan.

“Fuck — you’re doing so well,” she coos, carding her fingers through your hair, admiring the sight of your half lidded eyes and the feel of your tongue, “You sure this is your first time eating pussy?”

You hum in response which sends vibrations throughout her body, causing her to throw her head back. You grip onto her lower back, desperately bringing her wet cunny closer to yourself and she rolls her hips, grinding herself on your mouth. You’re already addicted, lapping at all of the cum she has to offer, watching intently as her mouth forms an o shape and she soaks the lower half of your face.

“Such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

She gets off your face and you smile with pride, tugging off the rest of her maid uniform until she’s completely bare in your living room. Every curve of her body fills you with even more lust and you’re sure your panties are soaked just from the sight. Her thighs are defined, muscular even, and you kiss them before going back to her ruined pussy, lapping at all the slick.

“You’re so pretty, Maki,” you utter, your breath hitting her neck as you come back up to her face.

She pushes you backward until you’re flat on your back, pinning your wrists together before ripping off your panties. Maki wastes no time, two fingers entering your hole and curling with every thrust. “You got this wet from eating me out?” She questions cockily, leaving an open mouthed kiss on the shell of your ear along with a nibble, “You’re a cute little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you whimper in between breaths, “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah?” She responds, watching you come undone underneath her.

Your orgasm builds up with every pump, the coil in your stomach tightening. She fastens the pace, every movement being calculated, her fingers knuckles deep in your cunt. Her fingertips manage to brutally hit the spongy spot inside of you, causing your legs to shake. Your back arches when her lips wrap around your clit, the simultaneous stimulation making your body tremble in delight. You’re gushing all over her fingers and she stares in awe as your slick drips down your thighs.

“Can we go to the bedroom?” You request meekly, barely recovering from your last orgasm.

“Of course, Baby,” she beams at you, body gleaming with a sheen of sweat, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Maki picks you up bridal style with almost no effort, pressing kisses all over your face on the way upstairs. When you finally get to the bedroom, she lays you down gently, almost as if you were a delicate piece of glass. But the moment of soft intimacy doesn’t last.

It doesn’t last when her pussy hovers over your face with her head buried in between your legs, licking hot stripes on your folds, sucking on your pearl while her fingers brush on your legs before finding their way back to your ruined cunt. Your tongue presses on her slit and her hips lower until your mouth is full of pussy. Her sweet taste is addicting and concurrent moans only heighten the pleasure, vibrations shooting through both of your bodies. Her thumb circles your clit furiously as she pulls away from your cunt to speak.

“You like this, don’t you? Ain’t this the same bed where you get fucked by your husband?” She questions demandingly, slapping your cunny.

You whine into her cunt, the sudden pain causing your walls to clamp around nothing. She laughs sadistically, pinching your clit, biting at your inner thighs.

“S’good, such a good little slut,” she coos, her nose tickling your clit as her face inches closer, “Bet you like getting fucked by your maid, don’t you?”

You can only respond with a squeal, her hand laying another blow to your aching pussy. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I got you.” She reassures you, mouth ravaging your cunt, slurping every drop of cum you had to offer. She’s close to her own orgasm, you can tell by the way she rides your face, soaking the lower half until the sweet droplets slide down your neck. You massage her clit with your tongue as she comes down from her high, but after yours, she doesn’t stop.

Instead, she continues to feast on your cunt like a starved woman, the pressure in your stomach building for the nth time that day. Coming again almost hurts, but she ignores the high pitched wails spilling from your lips, the sounds only encouraging her to keep sucking until your body trembles. At this point, you’re light headed, vision gradually becoming blurry. Your walls are pulsating, your mind is unable to process everything at once.

Especially the shocked man who stands in the doorway of your bedroom.

And at that exact moment, you let out a sob as Maki sadistically looks your husband right in the eye, her mouth still devouring your overstimulated cunny with fervor. Your hole leaks milky white, staining your shared sheets and you cry out her name, hopelessly gripping onto the plush of her ass for stability, digging your nails into the flesh. When she pulls away, a string of spit connects from her mouth to your pearl and her pupils are blown, cheeks covered with your arousal, all the while maintaining eye contact with him.

As if there was no one in the room, she readjusts her until her face hovers over yours, her swollen pussy present on your thigh.

“Open.”

You comply readily and she grabs your face with one hand, squishing your wet cheeks so hard that they start to ache.

“Good girl.”

She spews into your mouth, watching the blob as it glides down your tongue and you swallow obediently before she comes down for a sweet kiss. The taste of yourself makes your head dizzy with lust. Let it be known that the horrified figure standing in the doorway could never make you feel as good as the maid.  

Oops.

© this is a work of @crybabygumi, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my work on other platforms.

[dahbeez]

1. "You're such a dork."

2. "Get over here, you doof."

3. "Cheeky."

4. "You're so needy."

5. "Kiss me again."

6. "You're so adorable!"

7. "Look at you... goodness, you're so cute!"

8. "I'm just so happy!"

9. "I can't stop smiling."

10. "I like that you make me laugh so much that my cheeks hurt."

11. "You are being extra sweet today."

12. "Oh, look at you!"

13. "Your eyes are so pretty."

14. "I'm really happy that you're here with me."

15. "Thank you for staying with me."

16. "I don't think I've ever loved someone this much before."

17. "I feel like I'm in the clouds when I'm with you."

18. "You're like my hero/heroine."

19. "I'm gonna tickle you if you don't come over here."

20. "My, oh my. You are such a beautiful creature."

@drink-it-write-it​

21. "Go with me?" "As long as you hold my hand."

22. "Is there a reason you're blushing like that?"

23. "Have you seen my hoodie?" "Nooooo..." "You're wearing it, aren't you?"

24. "OH you're jealous!"

25. "Can we stay like this forever?"

26. "Please just kiss me already."

27. "I think you might be my soulmate."

28. "Sleep over? Please?"

29. "Are we on a date right now?"

30. "I think I'm in love with you."

31. "Are you flirting with me?" "You finally noticed?"

32. "Am I your lockscreen?" "You weren't supposed to see that."

33. "I wish we could live together already."

34. "They're so cute when they're asleep."

35. "I just wanted to let you know that I think you're beautiful."

36. "Quit touching me, your feet are cold!"

37. "Sharing is caring, now give me the hoodie!"

38. "Give me attention."

39. "You met me yesterday." "Yes, and I would die for you. Next question."

40. "She's hiding behind the sofa."

41. "Did you just hiss at me?"

@wishiwasanavenger-archive​

42. "Have you kissed anyone before?"

43. "Can I kiss you?"

44. "You're not hurting me, you're not heavy. I've got you, love.” 

45. "I look at them and I just... it's like when the Grinch's heart grows three sizes."

46. "I don't... I've never... been in a relationship before and I'm going to make mistakes... I just need you to tell me. I need you to talk to me."

47. "You didn't tell me your friend was cute! Now what am I going to do?"

48. "You give me a reason to be better, to do better."

49. "God, you are so fucking cute."

50. "I love you, but I need you to go away because you're really bloody distracting and I have to pass this test tomorrow."

51. "Oh no... they're cute."

52. "I can't talk to cute people, okay? I don't know how to flirt!"

53. "God, I love your face."

54. "Don't look at me, I'm a mess!" "I love it when you're a mess!"

55. "Please do your homework for me...? Just one time." ... "I said one time, y'know... you didn't have to start studying. Not that I'm not proud or anything."

56. "I'm already home."

57. "Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner."

58. "Stop moving! I'm going to have to start counting all over again!"

59. "I just thought that since you weren't feeling too good, this would help."

60. "I'm not kissing you in the rain! We'll catch our death!"

61. "Would it help if I stayed?"

62. "I apologise sincerely if my beautiful/handsome face has kept you up all night."

63. "God, you're pretty."

64. "Calm down, it's just a chocolate bar!"

65. "Please, tell me you brought a toothbrush?"

66. "You take the bed, you need it more than me."

67. "You're so warm!"

68. "You're freezing, Jesus!"

69. "You always look beautiful."

70. "Your hands are so small!"

71. "Sometimes I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?"

72. "Now I know where half my wardrobe went."

73. "Here, let me just–" 

74. "You're really special to me."

75. "That tickles!"

76. "We only have one room left for the night..."

77. "Naps are life, okay?"

78. "I don't think I could love you anymore than I already do."

79. "I had the weirdest dream..."

80. "I got you a trophy, it's only plastic, but it's for being the best human I know."

81. "Someone keeps leaving love notes in my locker and I don't know if I should find it endearing or creepy..."

82. "I love your voice."

83. "Put me down! I can walk!"

84. "Can... can you come over?"

85. "You're the best."

86. "Can you please stop biting your lip, it's distracting."

87. "I thought you liked love songs!"

88. "I know you're not a fan of Valentine's day... I just thought that maybe I could change your mind..."

89. "You're my favourite know-it-all."

90. "That was the least romantic proposal in the entire history of proposals."

91. "I never knew you were a romantic at heart."

92. "I made it. For you. I know it's not the best, but..."

93. "Let me carry that."

94. "How do you know my favourite drink?" "I'm observant."

95. "We've known each other's for years and I don't think we've ever had a proper conversation."

96. "You're the clumsiest person I know, how did you survive past childhood?"

97. "It's always time for a milkshake."

98. "You know, humming the James Bond theme tune defeats the point of sneaking."

99. "I think your cat wants to kill me."

100. "Where have all my jumpers gone?"

101. "I don't get paid enough for this shit."

102. "Oh my God, I love you."

103. "I told you to bring a jacket."

@writings-of-a-hufflepuff​

104. "Is that my shirt?" "You mean our shirt?"

105. "It's you, it always has been."

106. "You're everything I could've wanted and more."

107. "Kiss me."

108. "Home stopped being a place when you entered my life."

109. "You should probably go home." "But I'm already home."

110. "You're an idiot." "But you love me."

111. "I'd do anything for you."

112. "You took all the pillows so I'm using you as one."

113. "Stop moving and let me braid your hair."

114. "I'm so proud of you."

115. "You are my family."

116. "I'm right here."

117. "Can you just please hold me?"

118. "I'm pretty sure they're my soulmate."

119. "This reminded me of you."

120. "Your hair is really soft."

121. "Are you blushing?"

122. "Can I stay here tonight?"

123. "Because I love you."

124. "Make a wish!"

125. "I love seeing you smile."

126. "You're just a softie."

127. "You are crushing me right now."

128. "Darling I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen."

129. "Take my hand. Just trust me."

130. "You're the only thing that matters."

131. "Did you know that you talk in your sleep?"

132. "Hey, look at me. Focus on me, alright?"

133. "Why can't I get you out of my head?"

134. "Don't let go."

135. "Stay."

@blisfvll​

136. "You smell really nice."

137. "If you steal the blanket, I'm going to put my cold feet on you."

138. "You're comfy."

139. "But I want to hear you sing."

140. "Don't get up – I'll do it."

141. "Care to give me a back scratch?"

142. "Your bed head is really cute."

143. "How about a kiss?"

144. "Uh oh, I know that look. What do you want?"

145. "Are you really flirting with me right now?"

146. "I like the way your hand fits in mine."

147. "You have something in your hair, umm... do you want me to get it out?"

148. "It's nice that your voice is the first thing I heard today."

149. "This movie is really scary, but you're into it so I'm trying not to cover my face the whole time but– WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?"

150. "Wait, don't pull away... not yet."

151. "Half the time I get too embarrassed to say anything."

152. "No, it's fine. I can wait until you're done talking to them."

153. "No, like... it's just, I can't believe you're actually wearing my clothes."

154. "I've been trying to get ready for like an hour and an half because I know you're going to look so good and I need to try and match up."

155. "I wanted to say 'I love you' for the first time without stuttering, but that failed."

156. "We could order pizza and just stay like this all day."

157. "It's not a double date. We're just third and fourth wheeling."

158. "I remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror..."

@marauder-exe​

159. "It's not funny!"

160. "That wasn't suppose to happen."

161. "Hurry back."

162. "I can't take you seriously."

163. "Problem solved."

164. "That was embarrassing."

165. "It's freezing in here."

@love-me-a-good-prompt​

166. "I love you, baby."

167. "Hey, cutie."

168. "I promise to love you for the rest of my life."

169. "You're my world."

170. "I don't care if you're sick, catching a cold from kissing you is worth it."

171. "You are so perfect."

172. "Marry me?"

173. "You're the best part of me."

174. "Stay here with me. For the rest of our lives."

175. "I'm speechless, you're so beautiful!"

176. "Come here, I need to hug you."

177. "When everything's wrong, it's you that makes it right."

178. "You're the one."

@raggedy-dxctor​

179. "Well, it's the thought that counts." "Wait, no, don't take my kisses away from me!"

180. "Oh, you've started stealing my socks now?"

181. "You owe me a kiss."

182. "How did you get in here?"

183. "That's not even fair."

184. "You promised me a cookie!"

185. "Ew, that is so sappy, I might vomit."

186. "You're not very intimidating."

187. "That was, by far, the stupidest thing you've ever done."

188. "Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer."

189. "Why the hell is there glitter everywhere?"

@whcczes​

190. "I'll feel much better if you let me walk you home."

191. "Apparently, all our friends have a bet going that we end up together."

192. "You make me feel alive. For the first time ever, I feel like I can breathe."

@moanlightlust​

193. "It's two in the morning and you want to cuddle?"

194. "You shine so bright it's intimidating. I love it."

195. "I'm here."

196. "What's your name again? Sorry, I just got that super weird feeling that we only see in movies, you know? Like, the whole world stopped turning and all I could see was you."

197. "I was born to be yours."

198. "Isn't it a bit too cliché?"

199. "So, you're just kissing strangers for no apparent reasons?"

200. "You'll always be my favourite person."

201. "You're making it weird, stop making it weird."

202. "There's nothing I love more than running back into your arms."

203. "I'm yours. Forever."

204. "You always know how to cheer me up."

205. "I... I lost the ring."

206. "Will you be mine?"

207. "Darling, you look perfect tonight."

208. "You saved my life."

209. "Don't give me that look. No... NO! I said no puppy dog eyes! You know I can't resist them! Argh, fine!"

210. "I missed you and your bad puns and even your horrible cooking and the way you fit perfectly against my body when we cuddle. I just really missed you."

211. "We're a team, remember?"

212. "There's no place I'd rather be than by your side."

213. "Your smile brightens the whole room."

214. "I kinda adopted a puppy behind your back... don't be mad! Look at those cute fluffy paws!"

215. "You're burning up. Guess I need to activate my nurse mode."

216. "I love you. As in more than friends, more than best friends and more than super extra best friends."

217. "I love you just the way you are."

218. "We need to kick his ass, no questions asked. You in?"

219. "Hot chocolate and cuddles? Kisses?"

220. "You make me feel pretty."

221. "You'll always be my best girl."

222. "Never hide yourself from me."

223. "Babe! There's no toilet paper!"

224. "I'll never give up on you."

225. "Do you feel that shirt? That's boyfriend material."

226. "That prank went so wrong."

227. "Care to dance, my love?"

228. "AH! You're stuck with me!"

229. "You're too good to me."

230. "Is it that time of the month?"

231. "Can I braid your hair?"

232. "It's okay to have doubts, as long as you don't let them overwhelm you."

233. "Come here! I can't stand to be so far away from you!"

234. "I got you."

235. "I wanna fall asleep next to you every night and wake up every morning with you by my side."

236. "Stop, I need to finish this!"

237. "I just wanna binge watch The Office, but it's not the same without you."

238. "Because I care about you!"

239. "I just wanted to impress you."

240. "I love you even though your breath stinks right now."

241. "Did you just puke on me?"

242. "We should get drunk and do stupid things."

243. "I always know what you're thinking about, babe. You're like an open book!"

244. "Could you sing to me?"

245. "I, uh, could you... could you play with my hair, please?"

246. "Nooooo, don't leave! I'm cold!"

247. "I think you're suffering from a lack of vitamin me."

248. "A mistletoe? Really?"

249. "Will you join me, love?"

250. "I have feelings for you."

251. "You are the reason."

252. "Take my hand, I wanna show you something..."

253. "You have a lovely name."

254. "You're my everything."

255. "You do know a lot about my blushing schedule."

@voilawind​

[delphoxqueen]

Deuce Gorgon’s Journal- Wave 1 (2009)

-Go to the bottom of the post for the actual journal images-

This Journal Belongs to:

Deuce Gorgon

Keep your eyes off my journal or you’ll spend the rest of your life as a lawn ornament.

Name: Deuce Gorgon

School: Monster High

Unlock More Online: MHDGSNAKE

July 1

Another day of doing exactly what I wanted to do… I can hardly wait for school to start… how many times would I need to write that line before I started to believe it?

July 15

It rained today which totally wrecked my plans to try out my new skate deck. I sat on the porch turning flies into pebbles until Mom yelled that they were putting dents in the deck… wish this rain would hurry up and stop.

July 16

Dude- I love Mom’s killer Greek food but that’s like ALL she ever cooks. I wanted to make this scary good Ghoulash recipe I found but Mom said it wasn’t “a proper meal for a growing boy”. Mom rocks and all but sometimes she acts like I’m still 10 years old or something.

Ghoulash

2 Pounds Growled Beef

1 Small Onion; Guillotined

1/2 Mean Smell Pepper; Drawn and Quartered

1 Jar Monsternara Sauce

8 Ounces Uncrooked Elbows Macaroni

1/2 Cup Water

1 Tablespoon Grrrlic Salt

1/2 Teaspoon Black Plague Pepper

1 Cup Shredded Muenster Cheese

July 18

Went to the park to try and find a pickup game of casketball but there was nobody on the courts except some lame human kid. I was gonna slide out of there but he asked if I wanted to play some one on one. I figured it wouldn’t take long to make him look like a statue out there but I was wrong. He had a scary good jump shot and even crossed me over a couple of times. I had just started to play really hard when my glasses got knocked off and broke. Now I have to figure out a way to get home without stoning someone but dude just took off his shades and handed them over to me. He said to keep them until I got home and he’d get them later. Told me his name is Jackson Jekyll. He said he wants rematch. I told him any time, any place. Not a bad guy… for a human.

August 18

Perseus ate all of Mom’s fetid cheese this morning. It’s not his fault he’s a rat and cheese is like his favorite thing. Mom threatened to turn him into a paper weight if he so much as sniffed the kitchen so I kept him out of her sight for the rest of the day.

August 19

Went to the maul today cause Mom dropped some cash on me for school clothes and I wanted to see if I could find some new kicks that didn’t look like something a human would wear. No luck. I WAS digging this cookbook I found at this kitchen store until Clawdeen Wolf walked by and said something stupid. I was totally going to stone her but Clawdeen walked up and so I didn’t. I’m not afraid of any monster but he’s on the team and I didn’t want to start any trouble with him.

August 23

Took Cleo de Nile out tonight. I was like five minutes late and she spent the first part of the date treating me like a statue. I guess it’s all part of dating royalty which is cool but dating royalty is also stone cold expensive. I was hoping she’d want to hang out and order a Screechzza but she chose prime rib instead and there went the money I was saving for those wicked new shades I wanted. I thought the food was killer but she ended up sending her meal back like a hundred times. I felt bad for the waiter and the chef especially since it’s kinda what I’d like to do one day. I didn’t say much after we left so she probably thought I was mad at her.

August 25

So I’ve been trying to talk Mom into letting me get my driver’s license but she’s totally not being cooperative like… at all. Every time I bring it up she crosses her arms and her hair gets all hissy. Then I get the lecture about how when she was my age she didn’t have a car and got along just fine. One time I made the big mistake of telling her that nobody had a car when she was my age because they hadn’t been invented yet. Dude. Not a good idea. She said, “We didn’t have skateboards either!” And I had to walk everywhere I went for the next two weeks. I think she may be coming around though, cause now she waits until after listening to my reasons for wanting my license to tel me to go clean my room. Well one thing’s for certain, I may not be getting a license or a car any time soon but I will definitely not be riding on the school hearse this year. No way no how.

September 1

I got my regular pre school year letter about making sure I wear my shades at all times when I’m on campus… whatever.

I mean first of all when I turn someone to stone they don’t stay that way; that’s my Mom okay? It only lasts up to twenty-four hours and usually not even that long.

Second of all you don’t shatter like glass if you fall over and people can’t break off pieces of you so when you turn back your ear lobes are gone or something.

Thirdly you still know what’s going on around you so it’s not like you missed anything.

And lastly it’s not like I want to turn my friends into rock stars anyway although some-times it is kinda fun to let them think that I might.

September 6

Nothing on television ✓

No new video games I haven’t played and beaten- TWICE on the hardest level ✓

Mom starting to find new and unusual chores to keep me busy ✓

Cleo de Nile starting continuing to find new and unusual ways for me to spend money on her ✓ ✓ ✓

The sweet life of summer about to be replaced by the grind of the school year ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓

Name: Deuce Gorgon

Age: 16

Monster Parent: Medusa

Killer Style: I really love casketball and …well…cooking, which I wouldn’t tell a soul.

Freaky Flaw: I have to wear sunglasses to keep from turning my friends to stone. It only lasts 24 hours but I still hate accidentally causing a friend to rock out.

Pet: Perseus is my two-tailed rat named for an Ancient Greek warrior Mom knew. She doesn’t think it’s funny.

Favorite Activity: Playing casketball and cooking.

Biggest Pet Peeve: People who annoy me.

Favorite School Subject: Culinary Arts- (see below)

Least Favorite School Subject: Culinary Arts- I pretend to hate it but it’s really the best class at Monster High.

Favorite Color: Neon green

Favorite Food: Greek Monster Fusion- It’s my own creation.

BFF’s: Cleo de Nile Jackson Jekyll

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 30/?)

Chapter 30: Where the Skies End

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20 • 21 • 22 • 23 • 24 • 25 • 26 • 27 • 28 • 29 • 30 • more coming soon

[ You can also read on AO3 ]

Unsurprisingly, and much to your frustration, Connor had finished the move without you. There might not have been much left to move at that point; but, it was your stuff at a house that you rented, and not Connor's responsibility in the slightest.

But, there was no telling the android that, and you knew that he would have been well equipped with plenty of reasons as to why he could handle the rest of the move alone: you needed rest, he didn't require sleep, etc, etc.

When you stepped off the elevator into the android's - and now your - apartment, Connor had a look on his face, as if you had come home for the first time in years. You had only spent a week at Hank's place, and only a day and some odd hours at the hospital prior to that, and Connor had been nearly inseparable from you the entire time; yet, it felt like ages since you had been here.

It was only then that the weight of your near death experience became apparent. Before, your life, or the loss of it, wouldn't have impacted anyone else. It was just you in that little house, trying to make a living, picking up the pieces of a war and watching humanity change astronomically.

Now, there was a life that would be changed if you were gone. You let yourself imagine how Connor would cope, what would become of him, and struggled to keep the sorrow to yourself.

Perhaps, for the first time in your life, you knew what it was like to be needed.

Your wound healed remarkably in the weeks that followed. The scar left behind was star shaped and your skin was darkened around the sunken surface. But, you didn't find yourself hating it as much as you thought you would.

It wasn't something you looked at with pain or regret, but rather something prideful. Maybe there was something masochistic about it, not that you found yourself bothered by that realization.

Your coworkers thought it looked 'pretty cool' and declared that it made you 'quite the badass'. Now, you could wear the badge of 'I've been shot', with a bizarre story to tell. You didn't care if people thought it was strange, letting yourself get shot for an android.

Connor was much more than 'just' an android. He was the man you loved, who carried an astronomical burden you could barely understand. Sure, you could judge the weight, the pressure; but, you, an ordinary human, couldn't possibly understand what he felt as the target of a revolution that would change humanity forever.

The thoughts became clearer as you and Connor stepped into Haven for the last time, and you took in the emptiness, the quiet, and the cold.

"One moment," Connor advised you, stepping away and into the open space in the center of the room.

RK800, like all androids, had no true sense of temperature. Connor couldn't feel cold the way humans did. His artificial skin wasn't going to prickle with goosebumps and his muscles wouldn't shiver from the discomfort.

His HUD could report the weather if he enabled it and he had various feedback modules to inform him of how the temperature would affect a human, with the rightful assumption one would be in his presence.

Yet, despite this very well known limitation of his being, Connor couldn't explain how he managed to feel so cold as he stood there in the very abandoned Haven.

He was aware that warmth could be metaphorical, symbolic of belonging and comfort. His sense of cold was both literal and figurative in this sense. Without any machines running, all the lights turned off, Haven had become very cold. The halls, once busy with androids, were now empty, and the building was silent if not for the creaking walls.

-until someone walked through the distant corridor, their quiet footsteps rattling in Connor's acute hearing module.

There was an apology on the tip of Connor's tongue when he caught the sight of Markus. However, the RK200's stare wasn't cold or untrusting. There was something undeniably regretful on his face, conveying sympathy to the fellow android.

Markus' mismatched eyes caught the sight of you over Connor's shoulder, and spared a sad expression.

The two androids had agreed to meet here, for the last time in circumstances like this, hopefully. Once the final bill was passed, and androids would be proper citizens, there would be no need for this.

However, Connor had yet to obtain a definitive lead on Reaves' accomplices. This, at the very least, could provide some security for the androids that came before him.

"I know you didn't want me to," Markus began. "But, I will tell them it's from you. They should know."

"It's... your choice," Connor replied quietly, hoping to mask the uncertainty in his tone.

The two androids took each other's wrists, pushing the fabric of their jackets out of the way to touch skin to skin. Connor knew that Markus trusted him. He took the file without even bothering to scan it first. Only once it was already saved on his local system did he bother to analyze it.

The detective android had worked on that during your recovery week, while he laid beside you in low power mode. He reviewed the log files on his internal firewall over a thousand times, and crafted additional security protocols, specifically designed around write protection. Factory defaults, if he could help it, would be near impossible.

Markus could share this new code with other androids. If Connor failed to stop it in time, at the very least, their memory modules would be protected from brute force attacks, cyberlife certified or otherwise.

As their hands parted, Connor seemed to understand why he felt so cold. He had grown accustomed to how your skin felt - how human skin felt. Even when you weren't acutely aware of it, you were always warm.

"You're one of us," Markus declared, his hand dropping to his side. "We couldn't have done this without you. Your sacrifices need to be known."

"Sacrifices," Connor parroted quietly, doubtful.

He thought about Reaves' disbelief, at how he prioritized saving your life over securing the future of his kind. He could have killed you, carried on the mission, secured all of the chips and brought the android protestors to absolute surrender.

But, he didn't.

Before you, what had he gambled, if not his own life? A life that, by the very words of his creators, didn't exist, was meaningless, just programs executed in succession. He had questioned the very existence of his own life, but so had every android before him.

Still, the determined look on Markus' face didn't falter.

"Until we meet again," he offered, nodding at his fellow android. His eyes landed on yours before he turned away, and you offered him a sad, small wave.

As Connor passed, he took his hand in yours and guided you out of the building with careful steps. It was unnecessary to bring you here, but he understood the importance of goodbyes, and didn't want you to believe your efforts here had been in vain.

You expected to be driven home after that; however, as you climbed into the car, Connor asked, "would it be alright if we went to the park for some fresh air?"

"-'course," you replied softly, shifting your gaze from the android's face to look out the window.

Connor was uncharacteristically quiet during the drive, his hands gripping the steering wheel in a death lock. You didn't pay much mind to it, figuring he was stressed after everything that had happened. You had been the one on death's door; yet, Connor was the one seemingly always on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

It was worrying; but, you knew he needed to work through it in his own way.

At the park, Connor had hoped you would head straight for the bridge, to a place you had cherished so much. If his research was accurate, this needed to be done at a special place. As he followed you slowly up the curve, feet tapping against the boards, a wave of doubt washed over him.

You looked stunning, standing upright for the first time in weeks, with pep in your step, the sun soaking up your hair. Could he really have this? Could he even think himself allowed for such a thing? Could an android truly understand the needs of a human?

"You alright?" you called out to him, pausing before you reached the apex of the bridge.

It snapped him out of his stupor, and Connor replied softly, "I'm fine."

You continued and he followed, counting the steps despite how unnecessary it was. The android knew he had never been this scared in his life. This type of sensation was really, really unpleasant. His processors were giving him ridiculous warnings that didn't pertain at all to the situation.

He shut off the alerts and met you at the top of the bridge. His hand slid over the railing, analyzed the material as a strong timber, coated with a lacquer color called 'cedar brown', manufactured by-

Connor quickly closed the analyzed results, realizing how pointless that was. He was distracting himself, busying his processor with his manufactured purpose to avoid something he was definitely not made for.

At the top of the bridge, you turned to the man standing beside you, just in time to see him deactivate his human skin. His gaze met yours, and you smiled at the sight of RK800, as he was made, without the imitation of human-likeness.

For a moment, he stood there and let the heat of the sunlight catch on his sensor processors. The human tone of his factory issued skin flickered back on briefly before shutting back off, as Connor mentally questioned if he should do it like this.

The sudden nervous expression on his face, and his flickering pallet, had you concerned. In the sunlight, you could catch the subtle flaws in the design of his optics: the faint glimmer of a camera lens hidden beneath the almost perfect human appearance.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you asked, suddenly reaching for him. Your hand fell into the curve of his elbow.

"There's-" Connor began, stopping himself when a jogger passed the bridge. He was silent until they were gone.

"There's something important I need to ask you," Connor explained, his voice quiet and hoarse. "I'm sorry for not being more forthcoming. I was afraid."

Despite the obvious implications of what that question was, your head swarmed with the worst possibilities. The detective android, who had stormed a building of armed men to rescue you, who never hesitated to take a bullet for anyone, was afraid of something?

"Connor," you murmured, his name falling from your lips without purpose. The concern, however, was heavy in your tone.

"Before I ask, you need to know that you can refuse. There is no obligation, despite what we have been through. I won't hold any negative feelings towards you. From my research, this is premature, and I apologize for that," Connor babbled.

"What?" you blurted. "Connor, what are you - what's wrong?" you insisted, pitch rising as you started to panic.

"Nothing is wrong," he replied sharply.

He stepped back, just enough to create a few inches between you. You watched him reach into his coat pocket and pull out a small box. Mind hazy with the aftermath of Reaves' attack, you feared Connor was going to present you with evidence, that the case had taken a dangerous turn, or even inform you with the worst possible news.

But, then, Connor, cupping the small box in his palm, knelt down onto one knee. He looked up at you, brown eyes bright in the sunlight, android skin white as freshly fallen slow, failing to conceal the crease in his brow as worry sank in. The box opened, but you were too focused on his face to bother looking inside.

"Will you marry me?"

You could have laughed, at yourself, really, for thinking he was going to talk to you about Reaves, about factory-resetting computer chips, and the potential downfall of androids.

Instead, you let out a choked gasp. It was pathetically wet and embarrassingly loud. It all came pouring out before you could even think to stop it. Connor's nervous expression melted into panic when you started crying hysterically.

He was shifting to stand up, an apology hot on his tongue. He could feel his processors heating up, threatening to lock up at the sight of your tear-soaked face. It had his internal processes soaring, questioning if he had misinterpreted your relationship, your feelings for him.

You flung yourself into him before he could stand up, knocking the jewelry box right out of his hand. It clattered noisily on the bridge. If Connor was human, he would have followed; but, he was sturdy and, even unprepared, managed to stay upright as you crashed into him. His knees hit the bridge and his hands cautiously cupped your back.

"Yes!" you cried out, pressing your cheek into his coat, some odd centimeters from his thirium pump.

Your arms squeezed at his back, hands clawing into the thick fabric of his coat. Connor was unmoving, stiff where you clung to him. The artificial movements he made to appear more human had ceased, and you briefly feared he had powered down.

"Yes," you declared again, softer this time, squeezing him even tighter.

Finally, his systems relented and he properly relayed to his processor what you had just said. His arms wound around your back and, for the first time in weeks, Connor hugged you tightly, as if he wasn't afraid that he might hurt you. You could feel the tightening of his fingers tugging at your blouse, the thirium pump in perfect beats inside his chassis.

"Yes," you said again.

His cheek fell against your hairline and he closed his eyes. He wanted to dig his fingers past the fabric of your clothes, to feel your skin in a hopeless attempt to interface. Even if he could only reach your body, even if your mind was out of reach, that was good enough.

"Yes," again.

For now, the ring laid forgotten in its case, the jewelry box sitting some odd feet away, flipped on its side.

[br-disaster]

Nie Huaisang’s outfits appreciation post

After the terrible loss of our second best dressed cultivator and fashion icon Nie Mingjue, the cultivation world now lacks one of it’s pillars. But little did they know, our fashion king had a disciple, someone capable of honoring his legacy in many ways.

While we all grief, a new icon rises.

And I’m here to prove that Nie Huaisang deserves his late brother’s title not only because Mingjue’s no longer serving looks -may his fashionable soul rest in peace-, but because Huaisang has always been a stylish icon on his own.

I mean, this look right here is enough proof:

 Huaisang has quite a lot of robes, and they are all so different, I decided to compile them chronologically:

1. the “assigned fashionable at birth”one

Look at this small bean with his cream-colored robes. Whoever chose this color for him did a great job, though it’s a bit weird that they looked at baby Mingjue and went “all you’ll wear is dark gray from now on” and then Huaisang was born and “cream it is!” And we don’t really see anybody else from the Nie sect wearing this color, I wonder if it has anything to do with Huaisang’s mom, or if it’s just for the dark\light color contrast,  the two young masters can’t possibly wear the same colors, it would ruin the aesthetic.

 It looks just like his main-possibly-stay-at-home-robes, like he just really loved this especific set and had a lot of other robes that looked just the same growing up.

Really small, really cute, makes you want to carry him around saying: look at my baby, he’s so stylish!

2. the “good old Gusu days” one

This is like a uniform, there’s nothing really special about it. But I’d like to point out two things:

One: the silver embroidery on the shoulders and the silver on his waist belt matches the pristine white of his robes really well.

Two: look how wide his shouders look, there you go, Huaisang, keeping the Nie shoulder game strong!

3. The “it’s called fashion, dage” one

Cream-colored again! It embodies teen!Huaisang’s aesthetic perfectly: it’s expensive, it’s pretty, it looks comfortable, but it’s minimalistic.

I mean, I have no idea if it is actually expensive, but it surely looks expensive.

It has no discernable patterns, but the fabric just looks so good, look at the texture. It looks warm and heavy (rip Ji Li). And it’s pleated, look at him! Everything about this one screams rich-carefree-spoiled-delicate-pretty-gongzi.

And well, we see him strolling around and getting in trouble instead of going straight home in this robes, then on Fatal Journey we see him painting landscapes instead of practicing and claiming he doesn’t want to become the Nie sect leader in this very set of robes. Maybe he has indeed been wearing similar robes since his childhood and wants to, you know, go back to when things were as simple as taking the long way home coming back from Gusu.

4. the “didn’t really engage on the war but needed to look good regardless” one

This one is so pretty, y’all. It’s silver and white and gray, the brothers  are matching with their disciples’ robes, you won’t find a Sect with a superior fashion sense.

I can totally understand why he didn’t change to some post-Sunshot robes. Imagine looking this good at home, with none of your friends or disciples or brother to see you. Nope. This robes belong to a banquet, even one as unpleasing and akward as this one.

(They technically saw him, since he wore the same robes while they were planning the whole Sunshot thing, but no one was paying attention to it, right? And you can’t let such a nice look go to waste)

One of my favorites, for sure. It even matches his fan. It’s peak aesthetic.

5. the “I’m only here for the food and the drama” one

I didn’t really like this one at first. It looked kinda futuristic in my head, you know? It’s probably just the really structured fabric and the color, but It was a bit too much.

But now, looking at it as I take screenshots, I like them. It’s bold and fierce and remember the shoulder accessories being a code for battle? Well, I doubt Huaisang shot a single arrow that day, but he was supposed to be competing, so it makes a lot of sense that he’s dressed like this while his brother is wearing his pretty, dark yet lighter civillian robes to watch him.

He’s even wearing epaulettes (well, I trust that that’s the name) that matches the ones Mingjue wore with his Sunshot robes! Are they the same pair? Did he borrow it? Or do they secretly comission the same robes and accessories  and wear them on alternate occasions?

These are the most battle-coded (and at the same time is not battle-coded at all, it’s too ostentatious) robes we see him wearing until now, and he is representing his sect at the hunt, he has to look like a proper heir that is capable of fighting, whether he likes it or not - and judging by how unenthusiastic he was during the opening shoot-the-wen-prisioners ceremony, I’d say he was not enjoying it at all-.

But it’s such a cool look, I really like it now.

6. the “he will throw hands with a non-corporeal entity while giving his big brother all the love and understanding he deserves” one

 This may look like the same robes we usually wears at home, but they lack the pleated part and I don’t think his long sleeves would fit inside his wirst thingy, which I now know it’s called a vambrace or a bracer,  they were quite wide sleeves.

Anyway, we again have his minimalistic aesthetic. No patterns, the only addition being the outer robe that realy looks like the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, except with no sleeves; and the bracers\vambraces.

But look how different this looks in comparison with the previous one; he wasn’t fighting shit in those pompous silver robes, but he was so determined here, ready to face anything. This is the difference between a battle-coded look and a battle-codded Huaisang.

It’s practical, it’s pretty, looks comfortable and it’s perfect for scolding your older brother then comforting him because he gets emotional when people argue with him, ok?

Huaisang is the best younger brother, fight me

8.the “sad, sad” one

I’ll just say that the inner robes are really similar to the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, though they are not the same. Perhaps my theory that they did comission a lot of similar itens is correct after all.

I don’t think this look is particularly good, and the context surely doesn’t help at all, but it’s interesting to see him in gray and black.

 Overall, I hate it here.

9. the “somehow even worse” one

Look, if I had to compile all his outfits, I had to include this one. But there’s nothing to say about it except just looking at him wearing it makes me sad.

10. the “you didn’t see that coming, did you?” one

This one here is a trick, ok? At this point of the story we have no idea of what’s going on and if this misterious person is important or not; all we know is that he is quite fond of patterns and dark clothing. And that he has some money.

But damn, once we find out who this is, it instantly becomes something else entirely. 

It’s so fucking DARK!! It’s Wei Wuxian’s kind of dark, it’s crazy to think our boy Huaisang, who’s been wearing light grays, white and cream all his life would come up with something like that. It doesn’t even look Nie, and that’s probably what he was going for, y’know, so no one could recognize him and all of that.

But jesus, this look is just wow.  It’s perfect for a scheming mastermind, even though we don’t really know about it yet. The scales pattern is really nice and I love when he wears this sort of robe, with the fitted sleeves and the extra fabric at the shoulders. The flame (I think) pattern is nice too, though it’s a bit too much here, just a bit. But he seems to like this pattern a lot, so let him have it

And the craziest part is: we know these robes. And i’ve seen a couple of posts about them, it’s the same inner robe he wore at the Phoenix Mountain night hunt competition, almost 16 years ago. 

Like what are these robes made of??

11. the “sneaky, sneaky” one

The famous Nie pattern, am I right?

I love all theories about this one and as I took the screenshots, I noticed how his inner robe is the same as robe number 8. Huaisang says no to excessive buying, please reuse your clothes!

I’m particularly fond of the theory that Nie Mingjue comissioned robes for both his didi and his boyfriend Xichen, but I can accept that Huaisang just inherited his brother’s robes, though the flame pattern (once again proving we won’t guess Huaisang is behind everything not even after seeing him wearing the same patterns as in episode one twice) at the bottom is definetly a Huaisang thing.

I really like how heavy it looks, and the black thin stripe.We know it’s the same pattern as Xichen’s robe but seeing it combined with the back and light gray of the Nies really gives it a distinct identity.

12. the “and the oscar goes to...” one

Look at him, all innocent-looking placing all the chess pieces on their right places. Gotta love director Nie.  And it makes so much sense that he would wear something as light as this robes for this moment. He wore light colors for most of his youth, when he was carefree and naive and harmless; he cultivated a reputation of being dependent, fearful and stupid even. In this moment, more than ever, he needs people to believe this is exactly who he is, and what’s the best way of doing it?

Yes, reminding them of your old self. All he does is pretend and lie while he cries and faints.  A director and an actor too!

Throw yourself at your brother’s sworn brothers trying to look harmless while annoying the hell out of them? check.

Faint conveniently as your brother’s murderer lies at your face about killing said brother because even you have limits and you can’t watch that fuckery and not want to murder him right there? check.

Pretend to be stupid while conducting the protagonist and pretty much everybody else to ask the right questions and therefore unmask the terrible things your nemesis did?  also check.

And the robes are really pretty, look at the texture at the bottom right!! Silver and white go really well together. Wide, wide sleeves and this heavy-looking fabric. Superb, really, one of my favorites again.

And look at him carrying his saber (which he  probably left at Pier Lotus later)!

13. the “...and cut!” one

Look at these robes and tell me they don’t absolutely look like something Nie Mingjue would wear. You know he would. 

And it’s such a contrast to his previous robes. The white and silver one for looking innocent and lost and funny; the dark gray to look like a serious sect leader who will endorse the accusations against his enemy (Ok, he did act confused and lost and innocent in these robes, but he also showed real shock and grief and sadness, he did show his true feelings too)

He’s honoring his brother here, he did it, he brought justice to him, he defeated his brother’s murderer.  He spent years wanting and waiting for this moment, it’s only fair he would do so while looking so much like his beloved older brother.

I love everything about this look. The color palette is almost the same as the one robe his brother wore to the post-Sunshot campaign banquet. The dark,shining gray, the black, the thin bronze\golden stripe at the collar. Even that extra overlaid fabric at the bottom front of his robes is the same as Mingjue used to wear. Beautiful, really.

He would be really proud of you, I hope you know that, Huaisang.

14. the “I may or may not steal your chief cultivator status, watch out Wangji” one

I know he would never steal Wangji’s post, cql!NHS doesn’t even want it; but like, we deserved Chief cultivator!Huaisang, right? So it was worth the joke, I think.

The inner light gray robe yet AGAIN, I suspect this is his favorite inner robe.

We have some bold patterns here, so elegant. I really like when he wears this kind of outer robe, accentuating his shoulders, suits him really well, And this is such a Nie color palette, just like the previous one. In fact, Huaisang wears way more dark colors than we give him credit for. Especially after becoming sect leader. 

Sleeve game on point too, really long. And it matches his fan as well.

Lovely look, I wish we could have seen more.

In conclusion: 

King of versatility, resusing 16 year-old robes AND looking damn good while doing it! He looks good scheming, he looks good lying, he looks good fainting, he even looks good tricking people into stabbing other people!

 Name a more iconic king, I’ll wait.

[tennessoui]

Hi miss Kit! So um, I'm not the anon who had the idea about the Pokemon obikin AU but I saw that you're still looking for a prompt so I did some brainstorming?

Obviously Anakin is aiming to be a Pokemon Master which is why he'll have to fight the elite four eventually. Which is not an easy task despite what the games might imply! So what if, despite breezing through the gyms before, beating Team Rocket and having a team that is powerful and adores him, he still fails his first attempt at the league.

I remember Prof Oak telling your rival after you beat him in gen 1 that he lost to you because he doesn't love his Pokemon enough which is bullsh*t!! But must surely be a cutting remark.

So ofc he goes to caretaker!Obi-Wan afterwards because he is a former Pokemon trainer so how has he dealt with loss before? Does Anakin really not love his team enough? Bonus points if Obi has challenged the league before (and won??)

I just realized that this is way too angsty for the Pokemon universe >.< everything is nice and soft here

alright!!!!!! finally!!! here is that pokémon au, a bastardization of this prompt and @sinhalbutnoangst 's prompt "24: Right before a passionate/first kiss & 16: “There’s nothing to be scared of, okay? I’m right here.” For a Pokémon AU !!!"

I hope y'all both enjoy or at least find parts to be happy about!!!

(fair warning i don't know a lot about pokémon so who knows how accurate this is at ALL)

(3.3k)

(i've linked each pokémon name with their pokedex picture just so everyone knows what they look like. no need to read the descriptions or anything)(god knows i didn't half the time)

Obi-Wan is in the water, tending to a shy gyarados a trainer had left behind as a Magikarp a few months ago, when on the shore his flareon raises its muzzle and barks loudly. That’s her signal that someone’s arrived at the Daycare center proper. Obi-Wan furrows his eyebrows, as he strokes his hand down the gyarados' side.

“I always tell them to call ahead,” he mutters as the pokemon nudges closer for more attention. “Why do they never call ahead?”

Gyarados knocks him hard in the arm. It’s clear she wants more pats, but business calls.

“Would you mind terribly taking me back to shore, dear?” Obi-Wan asks politely. It’d be faster than swimming all the way there, and it would strengthen the Pokémon's connection with humans.

On the shore, Flareon bounds around in a circle, tail flickering back and forth. It must be someone she recognizes the scent of. A regular then. That means Obi-Wan can take his time getting back to the counter to greet them, but he probably shouldn’t show up dripping wet in only a pair of swim trunks.

Luckily, Gyarados gives him a lift, bellowing mournfully to be left alone again when Obi-Wan alights onto the sand. When her trainer comes back to pick it up, Obi-Wan has half a mind to offer to buy her from them. No one who actually cares about their pokemon would leave a magikarp to become a gyarados under the care and instruction of someone else.

But becoming known as the Daycare Runner who gets attached to Pokémon and tries to keep them is perhaps a serious threat to his business as a whole. And he’s already done that too many times.

No, the best thing to do is to wait for the trainer to come back and sit them down to give them a serious talk about their Pokémon’s emotional needs. They’re probably young. Most trainers are these days. On some level you have to be in order to have the energy to travel as much as you do, to sleep on the ground more nights than not.

Yes, they’re probably young, and more focused on gym battles than their Pokémons’ growth and happiness. It happens sometimes with tunnel vision like that. Too many advertisements for the Pokémon League, the Elite Four, the Gym badges. Obi-Wan had been the same way when he was a kid.

He gathers his clothes from the shoreline and slips on his shoes. Flareon tries to help dry him out by wrapping herself repeatedly around his ankles and cooing out gusts of warm air, but all it does is create a new and unusual tripping hazard.

Especially when she suddenly perks up, about halfway to the building and jumps forward into a run. Obi-Wan stares after her, confused, clothes held in a slackened grip until he sees a very familiar growlithe running fult tilt from around the building. It hops the fence with practiced ease that makes Obi-Wan inwardly despair at the lesson it’s unwittingly teaching all of the other Pokémon.

But he can’t deny the way his heart thuds when he realizes what its presence means. His flareon, embarrassingly enough, seems to be thinking along the same lines, as she bounds up to the growlithe and starts winding between his legs instead, rubbing her head over every part of black and orange fur she can reach.

Obi-Wan sighs and shucks on his buttoned shirt, shaking out the water from his hair. He doesn’t even really bother with pants, seeing as his wet swim trunks go almost to his knees.

It’s Anakin. Anakin’s here. Anakin hasn’t been here for four months when he left in the midst of a shouting match. Obi-Wan has been trying--unsuccessfully--to put Anakin out of his mind. And now Anakin’s growlithe is prancing towards him like it’s a special present to see him at all.

“Yes, hello there,” Obi-Wan murmurs, pausing in buttoning up his shirt so he can pet at the growlithe’s--what does Anakin call him again?--muzzle. For a second, the Pokémon nuzzles back, scenting his face and neck as territorial Pokémon are wont to do, before it moves quickly forward and grabs Obi-Wan by the shirt, swinging him up onto its back.

Out of shock and a latent survival instinct, Obi-Wan drops the rest of his clothes and clings to the Pokémon’s back. “Shit!” is on the tip of his tongue the entire two minutes it takes to bound back to the fence, over it and through the welcome doors of his own Daycare.

Anakin is standing, back to the entrance, furiously tapping the bell on the desk, looking somehow both desperate and bored.

Growlithe barks once, twice, and shakes himself hard enough that Obi-Wan knows to let go before he gets rolled over upon.

It’s not the most graceful entrance he would have chosen after going months without seeing Anakin, to land on his back, partially dressed and smelling like the sea at the Pokémon trainer’s feet.

Anakin at least has the wherewithal to be both surprised and immediately worried. “Obi-Wan!” he yelps, turning around immediately upon his growlithe’s bark of victory.

“Yes, hello there,” Obi-Wan says dryly sitting up from his sprawl and combing a nervous hand through his hair.

“Where are your clothes?” Anakin asks shrilly, turning a very interesting shade of magenta and looking quickly away from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan couldn’t be more different, what with the way he looks at Anakin as if he’s starved for the sight of him. It’s been several long months since they last saw each other. The fight had been...awful, to say the least. Anakin had accused him of not really wanting him to succeed. Obi-Wan had accused him of the same tunnel vision he diagnoses most young adults to have.

Neither had been true. Obi-Wan hadn’t even meant it, but he’d been mad. He’d been mad that Anakin hadn’t even thought to listen to him more than a Gym Leader he’d just defeated.

Palpatine had urged him to go straight to the League. Obi-Wan had thought it prudent to return home to his mother, give his Pokémon a break, work his way to the island of the Pokémon League naturally as a means of bonding with and further testing his Pokémon. He has no idea who Anakin ended up listening to. It’s been something that has haunted him for weeks.

“Out in the back,” Obi-Wan grunts, standing and trying to pick up the shattered pieces of his dignity under the Pokémon trainer’s wide-eyed stare. Anakin’s grown older in the past few months, his face sharper. What is he now, newly twenty-three? Halfway to twenty-four? “Your Growlithe was quite enthusiastic to bring me here as soon as possible.”

Anakin flushes and looks down at his feet. He looks tired, Obi-Wan decides. Like he’s walked the entire continent just to show up at his door.

“Sorry,” Anakin says sheepishly. “I had--”

“Him out and walking with you, I know,” Obi-Wan finishes with a fond shake of his head. He buttons the last necessary button on his shirt and sweeps past Anakin to stand behind his desk. “You always liked having one of them out with you. How’s your Jolteon?”

“Twilight?” Anakin asks, sounding surprised Obi-Wan even remembered he had a jolteon. He tries not to feel offended. It’s an unfortunate truth that Obi-Wan remembers almost everything about Anakin, the trainer that used to hang around his daycare as though he couldn’t bear to step more than fifty paces from his front door. “He’s fine. A bit angry with me, I think.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asks, furrowing his brow as he looks up at his guest. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Anakin is quiet for a few seconds, and his hands clench down on the edge of the counter-top. When he speaks, his voice wavers. “Obi-Wan...do you think my Pokémon love me? Like, do you think I am a good trainer?”

Obi-Wan stares at him. This isn’t a conversation he should have without pants on, he decides. He slowly puts his pen down. “What happened, Anakin?” he asks gently, reaching out and laying a hand on the arm Anakin still has resting against the counter.

“I lost,” his favorite trainer whispers, looking down. Growlithe--Resolute, that’s what Anakin had named him--noses into the nape of his neck. Obi-Wan is not jealous. “I challenged the Elite Four, and I lost in the second round.”

Obi-Wan’s hand tightens completely involuntarily. He hates hearing that after their years-long friendship, the last few years where he’d thought perhaps they were on the verge of being something more, despite his reservations, Anakin had listened to Palpatine over him. Palpatine.

“Come around back here,” he instructs after a second’s thought. Somehow, still, after all these months, he thinks he knows what Anakin needs. “And release all of your Pokémon from their Pokéballs.”

“All of them?” Anakin asks, sounding so unsure Obi-Wan’s heart aches with the doubt of it all before he reigns that in. This isn’t about him.

This isn’t about him, but he can’t stop himself from asking, just once, “Yes. Do you trust me?”

Anakin’s fingers hesitate on the seal of his first Pokéball, and Obi-Wan’s heart jumps into his throat. “Yeah,” Anakin finally says gruffly, pressing the release. “Yeah, I do.”

His altaria pops out of her Pokéball with a trill and a flap of her cloud-shaped wings. He just catches a hint of the jolteon materialize into existence before he turns his back. “I’m going to put on proper clothes,” he tells Anakin over his shoulder. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m sure your Pokémon will remember half the ones here.”

And all of the ones Obi-Wan calls his own, he doesn’t add. Anakin should know. Anakin’s known them since he was fifteen years old and surly over the fact that his mother wouldn’t let him go out and hunt legendary Pokémon until he finished schooling.

He finds his abandoned clothes quickly, and shuffles into them. Flareon noses around him curiously, with more than a bit of excitement. She probably smells Anakin on him. The thought doesn’t warm his cheeks, but if it does, he’ll blame it on the sudden amount of heat she’s giving off.

He leaves his shirt as is and doesn’t even bother with the vest or tie. He’s not here to be Professor Kenobi. He’s here to be Obi-Wan, Anakin’s friend. That’s what Anakin needs from him right now. A friend.

He fixes his hair anyway in a mad bout of nerves, but no one, not even his mienshao or flareon, obsessed with appearances as they are, are paying enough attention to him in order to soothe his sudden insecurities.

More than anything, he wants to be back in the sea, surrounded by the gyarados’ coils. He doesn’t understand humans as much as he would like to, and he certainly doesn’t understand Anakin. Not anymore. Perhaps he never did.

His flareon bumps at his wrist with the crown of her head and he looks down with a sigh. “Someone’s excited, I see,” he murmurs wryly, smoothing down the stuck-up fur of her hair and chest mane. She purrs. “Not the most excited though,” he adds with a huff as he sees a blur of white and blue from the corner of his eyes as the female Meowstic who spends most of her time strolling the parameter of the Daycare abandons her position to dart towards the backdoors where a newly emerged navy male Meowstic stands waiting.

They collide and curl into each other, two halves of one whole brought back together.

Well, that’s as good as any sign to approach Anakin, who has decided to collapse on the soft grass of the enclosure. Other than the Meowstic, his freed Pokémon have curled around him. The jolteon, Artoo, rests by his head, while his charizard, Mustafar, brackets the length of his body with his own. The growlithe sits watchful at his feet, while a new, unfamiliar pancham curls up on his chest. Finally, his gallade sits cross-legged to his side.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan drawls before he can help himself, “It’s very obvious that your Pokémon don’t love you.”

Anakin bolts upright at the sound of his voice. The pancham growls at him, a baby noise that Obi-Wan didn’t necessarily think the species capable of.

The Pokémon trainer hushes it quickly with a stern, “Vader, no.”

Obi-Wan comes to sit cross-legged in front of the man. “You didn’t have a pancham last time,” he says easily. What he really wants to ask is much more complicated. He wants to know everything. He wants to know how Anakin changed. When. Why. He wants to know what’s still the same.

It’s always complicated when it comes to Anakin. It’s never been easy.

“He was injured when I found him,” Anakin admits, stroking the top of Vader’s head. “But a fighter. I think I was injured when I found him too.”

The man seems so lost in his own recollections that Obi-Wan hates to interrupt. Carefully, Anakin’s jolteon, Twilight, noses his hand. When he’s not pushed away, he jumps into Obi-Wan’s lap with a trill. Flareon lets out a hiss, but acquiesces when the jolteon licks at her snout, accepting her ownership of Obi-Wan.

“I had just lost,” Anakin says slowly. “I wanted to come back here, rent a Lapras and just ride until I saw the shoreline I knew was yours. But I didn’t know what you’d say to me. How mad you’d still be.”

Obi-Wan bites his lip. He wouldn’t have been mad. He’d been worried, from the second Anakin left his property. But how to tell the man that? Would the other even want to hear it? Would he think Obi-Wan was trying to infantilize him, to protect him?

“I didn’t want you to be right.” Anakin whispers, arms tightening around the Pokémon. “I didn’t want you to be right and say that I wasn’t ready. And then I was in the forest, walking home, and I found this guy. He’d been attacked by a bug pokémon who was probably a higher level. But he was so angry still. I...I wanted him on my team. I needed that fire back.”

Obi-Wan suddenly thinks that there’s much more distance between them than there should be. He wants to be hugging Anakin, to be kissing his temple. These were allowances they had given each other before the fight, things that Obi-Wan had squirreled away, close to his heart.

He wants them back.

“But I keep thinking about how the professor who gave me my first Pokémon told this guy I beat in my first battle that he lost because he didn’t love his Pokémon right, and I...I’m just worried that’s why I lost.” Anakin stares down at his pancham, who puts his paws on his cheeks and pats a few times.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighs. He thinks it sounds too fond, too revealing, but Anakin looks up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “I’ve never known a trainer to love his Pokémon more, dear one.”

“Then why?” Anakin asks plaintively, scooting forward until their knees brush. “Why did I lose? The gym leader of Cinnabar Island told me I would win!”

Obi-Wan, quite maturely in his opinion, doesn’t mention the fact that the recently defeated Palpatine probably had ulterior motives for Anakin to challenge the league too quickly and then fail. “You weren’t ready, Anakin,” he says instead, placing his hand on the other’s knee and holding it even when the trainer jerks out of his grp. “Please, listen. It's about sheer time, training experience. It’s not about you or your relationship to your Pokémon. You have such an amazing, strong relationship with them! They love you. Anyone could tell. And you’re not lacking in skill either. I know your mind is sharp and ready for battle.”

Anakin looks at him teary-eyed. “I’ve been so worried that maybe they didn’t know I loved them,” he admits in a wavering voice.

Obi-Wan can’t resist moving impossibly closer to his trainer. “Oh, Anakin, of course they do. Pokémon don’t always express or interpret love the same way humans do, but they do have their own ways of showing it.”

“Like what?” Anakin sniffles, wiping at his wet eyes. If Obi-Wan had really been listening, he would have noticed the change in his tone. As it is, he continues immediately, too focused on trying to stop his trainer from crying to think of anything else.

“A fire-type Pokémon wil try to warm you if they think you’re cold, even if it means staying up all night to keep you in in its flame. And fighting-type Pokémon are capable of throwing a blanket over you if they think you need to rest. Psychic-types have been known to read their trainer’s emotions and either hug them or give them distance whenever they want. Ground- and bug-type have been known to bring berries to their trainers to get them something to eat, and electric--why are you looking at me like that?” Anakin’s nascent smirk grows bigger at this interruption and he cocks his head to the side as he studies Obi-Wan’s face. “And what does it say about a man who spends all of his time around Pokémon, that he would do those exact same things for me?”

Obi-Wan at least understands enough to scurry backwards a few paces, much to the jolteon in his lap’s distress, who jumps away with a huff.

“I’m not sure I understand,” he says quickly.

Anakin inches forward, setting the pancham, Vader, aside. He really has grown in the past few months. The loss of the League, the months apparently spent on the road, have aged him so that he’s both recognizable and something new and wild. “What if I knew of a man,” Anakin murmurs, falling to his palms as he closes the gap between them. “One who warmed me when I was cold, covered me when I was tired, hugged me when I was needy, and fed me when I was hungry? What would that mean, in terms of Pokémon?”

Obi-Wan swallows nervously. His entire body is bracketed by Anakin. Anakin, who seems to have discovered his most-guarded secret in their months apart. Anakin, who is hovering over him now with a dark look in his eyes. Finally something in Obi-Wan gives way. This is it. He will give Anakin everything he asks for. Everything he needs. He’s always tried to do this exact thing.

“I suppose that would mean he loved you,” he whispers, closing his eyes so he does not have to see Anakin’s recoil, Anakin’s disgust.

Anakin hums instead. “Obi-Wan,” he whispers, exhale hitting his lips. “Obi-Wan, open your eyes. There’s nothing to be scared of, beloved. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

At these words, Obi-Wan’s eyes jump open of their own accord. Anakin’s lips press down onto his in a movement just as sudden. He whimpers involuntarily and reaches up to clutch at the trainer’s hair, hold him to his mouth. Just as involuntarily, his lips part and Anakin’s tongue licks around the gap before darting inside. He moans. It’s shameful, the way he goes from scared to sucking on Anakin’s tongue as if he’ll die without the warm intrusion of it.

It hardly feels like the first time they’ve kissed. It feels like they’ve been kissing for years, like Anakin knows his mouth completely and utterly.

There are so many secrets left between them. Obi-Wan’s one unopened Pokéball, sitting on his belt. Anakin’s relationship with that last Gym leader. What he’s been doing these past few months. What Obi-Wan Kenobi made his fortune off of.

But none of it matters now. Not here at this moment. All that matters is showing Anakin that he’s been just as missed, just as wanted.

With that in mind, Obi-Wan rolls on top of his trainer and shoves his hands up inside Anakin’s shirt to trace along the muscles of his chest and back. This was his. His, his, his. He had come back to him. Everything else could wait.