#but lately it feels like nobody hears the perfectly clear words that come out of my fucking mouth no matter if it’s damn I’m tired of having

[blue-slxt]

One Hammock - Chapter 2

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: Here's the much requested Part 2 for the one-shot I wrote. I honestly didn't expect it to be as popular as it is and I certainly didn't think I'd write a second part for it, but I'm glad y'all are loving it! This part came out a little longer than I meant for it to, but I got lost in the sauce lol. So I hope you guys enjoy! All the characters are aged up.

Previous Part

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: Explicit smut, masturbation (M and F), vouyerism kink?, Fingering, P in V, Creampie, Scenting, One bed trope (kinda), I think that's it

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You've been avoiding Neteyam since the hammock incident because you're trying to figure out your feelings, but you can't avoid him any more when your parents have you stay with the Sully family while they're away.

It had been a week since that night, and you had been avoiding Neteyam. It wasn’t like you were mad at him or anything, you just didn’t really know how to act normally around him in public anymore. Just the mention of his name sent your mind racing with memories of what happened. The few times you did happen to see Neteyam, he seemed perfectly normal. Not an awkward bone in his body. How does he do it? Meanwhile, you were a ball of nerves whenever you were in close proximity to him.

Kiri and Lo’ak take notice in your change lately too. They’ve tried asking you multiple times, but you dismiss them every time. There was no way you could tell them the truth. Nobody wants to hear about their brother doing something like that, especially with such a close family friend. What would they think of you?

You’d talk to Neteyam again when you felt like you were ready to fully face the situation. You just needed time to finish processing your emotions about it and him.

Unfortunately, it looks like you were going to be forced to process this a lot faster than you anticipated. Your parents are going on a 3-day long hunting trip and they’ve asked for you to stay with Jake and his family. This is ridiculous, you’re an adult so you should be able to be home alone. But your parents are very protective over you as their only child. And they only trust the Sully family with your safety and once they’ve put their foot down, there’s no getting them to change.

It’s going to be a lot harder to not talk to Neteyam when you’re going to be staying in his home. But maybe he won’t even want to talk about what happened either. Yea, maybe he’s feeling weird about it too and he’s just better at containing himself than you are. Either that, or it just simply wasn’t a big deal to him. But the thought of that being the case hurts your feelings just a tad. Why? Did you want it to mean something to him? Did it mean something to you?

You figure that maybe going to bathe at the nearby waterfall might help clear your head a bit so that you can hopefully get some sleep tonight.

You loved coming to the waterfall at night. Something about the roar of the rushing water against the quiet night air was like a melody to your ears. You remove your clothes before walking into the waist deep water. For it to be after eclipse, the water is still surprisingly warm. You sink down to your knees and let your head fall back and your hair sprawl out across the surface of the water. It’s so therapeutic. You’d stay here all night if you could, but you know if you take too long, somebody will come to look for you eventually. So, you start cleaning your body off.

You run your hands along the length of your arms and your torso and then you reach the spot between your thighs. It’s right where he was. You hold your hand there for a second just remembering. It was hot and heavy and slippery against your skin. When you look down, you can still visualize the way his tip poked out from between your legs over and over again. Your fingers travel up mere centimeters and find your already throbbing clit. Shit, you were sensitive just from the remembering. You start rubbing mindless circles on the little bundle of nerves and your breathing gets heavy.

Your eyes close and your mind tells you that instead of your own hand, it’s Neteyam. Instead of your fingers, it’s the tip of his dick brushing against your sensitive spot again and again. “Fuuuck…” you breathe out. He was so close to being actually inside of you. Oh, how you wanted to feel him inside of you.

You lean forward onto a rock to help steady yourself as your legs grow weak beneath you. Your fingertips poke and prod at your entrance teasing you. He’s teasing you until he finally sinks into you. A loud moan escapes your lips, “Neteyam…ah…”

You do your best to keep your voice down so as to not attract the attention of anyone who may be nearby. Thankfully, the sound of the waterfall is loud enough to mostly drown out your sounds.

Your fingers move in and out of your dripping pussy making such obscene sounds which just pushes you further into your fantasy. Neteyam pounding into you from behind whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Your core tightens and you can feel how close you are.

Memories of that night replay in your head fueling your oncoming orgasm. “Haah…I-I’m gonna cum!” You remember the feeling of his cum on your skin and his hands on your body, gripping you harder with his own release. It’s enough to get you to your peak and you cum with a loud groan that echoes in the area around you.

You continue leaning on the rock to keep yourself up while your mind slowly comes out of its fog. You finally feel like some of the weight has been lifted off your mind and you can think clearly again.

However, unbeknownst to you, there was someone watching you the entire time. Neteyam didn’t mean to find you in the forest. It was pure coincidence. But when his eyes caught sight of your bare, slender body in the water, he couldn’t tear himself away. And then you started touching yourself. He knew this was wrong and he shouldn’t keep watching such an intimate moment. But his fascination was too much for him to move. And then you said his name. His ears shoot up at the sound of his own name being on your lips. Before he knew it, he was palming his own dick while watching you. Fuck, how he wanted to be the one feeling you right now. He wanted to hear you scream his name, not just simply whimper it.

Knowing that you made yourself cum with the thought of him made his head spin. Caught in a dizzying space of pleasure. He was nearing his own high at the same time as you. His seed spilled out over his own hand making a big, sticky mess.

He runs off to find a different stream to clean himself off in and rushes back home before you get there.

When you get back to the tent, you see how Neteyam tenses up at the sight of you. That was odd. After being totally normal all week, he’s suddenly acting like the awkward one. You didn’t get it. But it’s probably best to not think too hard on it.

…

Sadly, sleep still doesn’t come easily for you tonight. Even though Lo’ak isn’t snoring tonight, your mind and body are still too restless. Jake had put up a temporary privacy curtain for you while you were staying with them, but you stare at it feeling uneasy. Neteyam is just on the other side of this curtain and you wanted so badly to see him. Truthfully, you hated being so isolated. Being by yourself like this made you umcomfortable. But you don’t want to be ungrateful since Jake had put this up just for you. You chew on your bottom lip and try to bear with it and turn your back to the curtain. Then, there’s a sound in the silence. It’s just barely there, but you catch it. Footsteps and it sounds like they’re coming towards you.

“You still awake?” Neteyam whispers to you peeking his head behind the curtain. He tried to keep his voice small enough to not wake you in case you were asleep.

You turn around to face him and shake your head.

“Is it okay if I come in?” he’s hesitant.

You just nod at him. Words don’t seem to be coming to you just yet.

He carefully and quietly makes his way over to your hammock and scoots his way in. His body is right against yours and the contact sears your skin.

“I know you don’t really like sleeping alone and I was worried you might be scared over here by yourself.” He says quietly.

He remembers. That was part of the reason you two would share a hammock so often when you were children. You would beg and plead until you were purple in the face because of your fear of being alone while you slept. And Neteyam never minded. He always played the role of protector and he liked making you feel safe.

“Thanks” you say to him and you’re grateful that he can’t see the flush of your cheeks in the dark.

Your face studies his silhouette in the dark with only the small rays of light from the stars seeping in through the spaces of the tent. Your eyes travel further down to his chest watching it rise and fall and to his abs that flexed slightly with each breath he took and then even lower and the flashbacks hit you again. It’s like you can literally feel how your clit wakes up in his presence.

You fidget in your spot trying to squeeze your thighs together for some relief.

“So, listen, um, about that night” he starts.

Oh no, do we really need to talk about this right now? But you have nowhere to hide.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable”

“No no, I wasn’t uncomfortable. I mean I was the one who offered, right?” your face feels like it’s on fire. “Honestly, I kind of…liked it…” the last words come out as more of a whisper than a confident statement. You’re cautious with your words since you’re still not sure where his head is in all of this.

Now, it was Neteyam’s turn to blush, thankful for the cover of the dark.

“The truth is…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since then.” He confesses.

Your heartbeat picks up in your chest. So he did think about it just like you.

“And I was thinking that I could help you out sometime too…You know, if-if you wanted to…” his words trail off with his growing uncertainty.

You’re not sure what came over you in that moment. What suddenly gave you the confidence boost to say what came next, “C-could you help me now?”

His breathing hitches in his chest. He turns onto his side to be face-to-face with you. Neither of you say a word, but your eyes are pleading with him. Begging him to touch you. He slowly lowers his hand to the waistband of your loincloth. He pauses, his eyes still silently asking you if this was okay. You give him a small smile letting him know to continue.

His fingers pass your loincloth and come into direct contact with your heat. One of his fingers strokes your aching clit and your breathing gets heavier. You chew on your lip trying to bite back the moan you desperately want to release.

Neteyam’s notices how his own loincloth is getting tighter at the feeling of his fingers gliding up and down your slit.

Small groans of pleasure fall from your lips at his touch. He felt even better than you had imagined. And the way he touched you, it was as if he knew how to please your body even better than you did. His fingers touch you with just the right amount of pressure and speed. You feel drunk at his touch.

“Neteyam…m-more… please” you whisper just inches from his face. He can feel his own restraint slipping at the sound of your pleas.

‘Eywa, please just let me have this.’ He thinks to himself before he captures your lips in a hungry, sloppy kiss. You waste no time moving your mouth in sync with his. Your tongues dance together in each other’s mouths. He loved the way you tasted. He just wanted to drink you in all night.

That tightening in your core is back. Your back arches trying to press yourself even more into Neteyam’s body. His lips muffle your moans, but he can feel how close you are. Just at the last second, he plunges a finger into your heat sending you over the edge. Your body jerks and your hands fly up to hold onto his shoulders while you struggle to keep yourself from being too loud.

Neteyam bites his lip to keep himself quiet feeling your walls pulse around his finger.

You come down from your high and rest your forehead against his chest.

He looks down at your face and when you look back at him, Neteyam knows he’s done for. Your big, round eyes staring up at him still full of longing. Without a word, or a second thought, you both hungrily crash your lips together while you both hurry to shimmy out of your loincloths. You couldn’t wait one more minute. You wanted him, needed him, and you needed him right now. You felt like you might lose your mind if he wasn’t inside of you immediately and he felt the same.

He turns your body around and you instinctively push your ass back against him making him let out a low groan. You use one of your hands to spread your still drenched pussy for him. He holds on to your hips while he swipes his tip up and down against your slick. He lines up with your opening and he slides in you painfully slow. You had never had anything bigger than your own fingers inside of you and the slow fill was indescribable. Holding back your moans was nearly impossible. He’s struggling too, trying to deep breathe his way through the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in. He finally pushes all the way into you and you burn the shape of him into your body’s memory. You want to only know the shape and feeling of him forever.

He pulls his hips back, but you’re clenching on him so tight, it’s difficult to even pull out. It’s a wonder how he didn’t cum instantly. He moves slowly in and out of your warmth. Every thrust drags across your sweet spot.

His head falls forward resting in the crook of your neck. One hand slides up your body to massage your breast while the other reaches around to rub small circles on your clit.

“Of f-fuck…Neteyam…” it comes out as a whimper and it drives him crazy.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight. Taking me so well” he breathes into your ear. It’s exactly how you dreamt it.

His hips pick up their pace, “You have no idea how badly I’ve always wanted this.”

“M-me too…ah…” you’re losing your breath from panting.

“Yea? You touch yourself thinking about me? You want me to make that pussy feel good?” his voice is low but commanding in your head.

“Yes yes!” your voice comes out a bit louder than you meant to. Your hand cups itself over your mouth to muffle your sinful sounds.

Neteyam is loving every second of it. He loves watching you lose yourself to him.

“Oh, fuck yawne, I’m gonna fill you up so good” he rubs his face into your neck mingling his scent with yours.

“Please Neteyam…” even whispering, your voice is still strained.

He wants nothing more than to just pound into you mindlessly, but he knows that would make too much noise right now and he uses the last shred of his power to control his thrusts. But he can still feel your approaching orgasm. Your walls tighten even more around him, he wasn’t even sure that was possible.

“G-gonna cum…I’m gonna cum again Neteyam” your eyes blur unable to focus under the influence of your impending release.

“Do it, cum with me.” His grip on your body grows as he chases his own high.

The knot in your core snaps with ground-shaking force and you definitely would have screamed had it not been for your hand over your mouth. While you’re still at the peak of your release, Neteyam shoots thick, hot ropes of his seed deep into you. You felt so full that you thought you might burst. It intensifies your own orgasm tenfold.

You both stay there unable to move an inch from the exhaustion. Neteyam manages to pull himself together enough to pull out of you and his cum slowly drips out of you too. He rolls onto his back and watches the ceiling still catching his breath.

“Hey, Neteyam?” you mumble.

“Hm?”

“Would you stay with me? At least until I fall asleep?” you still didn’t want to be alone.

He smiles gently and turns over to pull you against him, “Of course” he places a small peck against the shell of your ear.

His arms are like walls around you shielding you from any feeling of fear or unease. He’s just so inviting. You fall asleep within minutes. Neteyam isn’t far behind you, falling asleep just moments later.

…

In the morning, the gentle sound of someone rustling around out of bed wakes you. You don’t open your eyes yet though. You just want to stay how you are for a little longer. You can hear Lo’ak’s voice on the other side of your privacy curtain, “Hey, have you seen Neteyam? He’s not in his hammock.”

At the same time, he’s pulling your curtain back to come talk to you, “oh shit!”, he pulls the curtain closed and jumps back on the outside.

Your eyes shoot open and your body jumps awake. The sudden movement and loss of warmth wakes Neteyam too.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to…interrupt.” Lo’ak says from the other side of the curtain. Your head falls into your hands in humiliation. “You guys should probably get yourselves together before mom and dad wake up.” You can hear the amusement in his voice.

Eywa, out of all people, did it have to be Lo’ak? You both knew you weren’t going to be hearing the end of this any time soon.

You look over at Neteyam and he shoots you an amused smirk of his own. You can’t help the small giggle that you let out. He props himself up to kiss you.

“How about next time we go somewhere actually private?” he jokes.

“Definitely.” You say smiling back at him.

‘Next time.’

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #avatar fic #awow #neteyam x na'vi!reader #atwow #atwow neteyam #avatar twow #avatar neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #avatar smut #awow smut

[throneofsapphics]

Manon x reader x Asterin (angst) please 🤸‍♀️

think for yourself.

(part two)

Manon x Reader x Asterin 

Summary: “I don’t care how you feel about this.” The white haired witch said through gritted teeth, those gold eyes seeming to burn a brand into you. 

“When have you ever cared?” Your voice was quiet and you went against all common sense, turning your back to walk towards the kitchen area. “Leave.”

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: angst, slight injury, blood 

A/N: angst is my favorite thing to write. I'm so sorry. also not proofread very well

It was late at night, in the small cabin you lived in, a few miles from the nearest village, perfectly secluded. The safest way for you to live. When you made trips into town, they welcomed you with open arms - mostly because of the herbs and goods you would barter or sell, but you did have a few friends there. Nobody there knows exactly where you live, nor did you invite anyone over, and you always took different routes home, shaking any who tried to follow. Even if that meant you would double the amount of time it took you to get back. Paranoia is good. It’s kept you alive. However, any common sense seemed to fall away for two witches. Who’d thankfully captured your heart instead of tearing it out. 

-

I haven’t seen your kind for some time.” A smooth and cold voice purred from behind you. Rarely could anyone sneak up on you, not with the senses from your Fae heritage. You slowly turned to face them. To of them. Witches. One with white-blonde hair and a predatory look in her eyes stalked towards you, the other fell into step a pace behind her, matching each other in pace and stride. Instead of the urge to flee, a small voice told you to stay. So you did, with that immortal stillness. Fleeing would give them a chase, something they undoubtedly would enjoy. 

You didn’t flinch as iron nails snapped out, or as one dug under your chin, tilting your face upwards. You met the burnt-gold eyes with a defiant gaze. “I don’t remember them being quite so pretty,” the other commented, and you could hear the amusement but didn’t dare take your eyes off the witch in front of you. The nails snapped back, and the two walked away without another word. 

-

The cabin had one bedroom, a living and kitchen area, and an outhouse. A few hens cluck around outside, along with a particularly nasty rooster you caught Manon eyeing once in a while. Like it would be her next meal. 

You laid, stretched across the couch with your head in Asterin’s lap, her fingers running through your hair, and Manon sat not too far away, in a worn down but cozy red armchair you’d come to associate as hers. 

A tension filled the room, both of the witches seeming on edge, and you couldn’t figure out why. Finally, you sighed and sat up, ignoring Asterin’s huff of protest and angling yourself so you could easily see both of them. “What is it?” you asked. 

“We’re leaving.” Manon said bluntly, and Asterin winced. 

“When?” You replied, fighting the dread that crept inside you. The left frequently, but something about this felt different. Off. 

“One week.” 

Your heart dropped, eyes starting to burn slightly but Manon wouldn’t react to your tears, she never did. Asterin, on the other hand, would. To anyone else, except maybe the rest of the thirteen, she would seem just as unflinching, the perfect mask of stone obedience. But, the corners of her lips turned down ever so slightly. Guilt, you could sense her guilt. If they were telling you this early … 

You cleared your throat, “how long?” 

“We don’t know.” Asterin said softly. 

“Can I ask what you’ll be doing?” 

“You can always ask,” she teased, but it fell short. She and Manon exchanged a glance, and Asterin continued - to your surprise. “The King has been breeding Wyvern’s. He needs riders for his aerial cavalry.” 

The world froze around you. You felt fate tightening its strings, twisting around your heart. Ironteeth witches as aerial cavalry for the king's army. That same army who … but they didn’t know about that, or they never would’ve told you. 

“Are you going to say anything?” Manon snapped, your silence annoying her. She didn’t like being ignored. 

“Why?” You looked back and forth between the two of them. 

“When we are done, when we’ve served” Manon said the word with disgust, “him, we will keep the wyverns and reclaim the wastes.” 

The wastes. The homeland both of them had been dreaming of for longer than you were alive. But serving him? The King had already conquered Erilea, committed various genocides, banished magic, and had an entire continent under his thumb. What more is he planning to do? Manon, herself, would never make the choice to serve a king, to follow his orders, meaning it had to have come from her grandmother. The High Witch of the Blackbeak clan. You tried to swallow your anger, you really did, but the words came out before your filter could catch up. 

“Is this how you’re going to spend the rest of your life, following your grandmothers every order, whoring yourself out to that King?” Before you could blink, both were on their feet. Manon’s iron nails dug harshly into your skin, and you felt the warm slick of blood starting to drip down your neck as she dragged you to your feet. 

“I should kill you.” Manon snarled, cold fury in her eyes. You’d insulted her, hit right where it would hurt. Good. Asterin laid a hand on her cousin's shoulder, but her eyes were cold too. 

“Do it,” you snarled right back, “your never master would order you to anyway.” 

Asterin barely yanked Manon back in time, scratches that would scar left blood dripping down your neck. “Be careful what you say next,” she warned as Manon shook off her grip. Seconds ago, Manon may have killed you but you could tell she wouldn’t now. 

“I don’t care how you feel about this.” The white haired witch said through gritted teeth, those gold eyes seeming to burn a brand into you. 

“When have you ever cared?” Your voice was quiet and you went against all common sense, turning your back to walk towards the kitchen area. “Leave.” 

Two sets of footsteps left, the door creaked open and slammed shut, and hushed arguments sounded outside your door. Too quiet for you to hear. One set came back in as the heavy oak door creaked, but closed quietly this time. 

“She does care,” Asterin said softly, her arms wrapping around your waist to pull your back to her chest. Despite the anger still bubbling in you, you melted back into her, resting your head against her shoulder. “She’ll be back in a few days,” she murmured, not expecting a reply from you. 

She let you lay in her arms until late that night, content to enjoy each others embrace, as if she knew what would happen next. 

-

Manon stormed towards your cabin, intent on doing something. She wouldn’t apologize, but didn’t want to leave on those terms, with your words in her mind. Whoring yourself out. Your new master. If you were anyone else, you would’ve been dead before the second curse had been uttered. 

Asterin followed closely behind her. They knew something was off as soon as they arrived. It felt stale. The hens and that gods-damned rooster were nowhere to be seen. She slammed through the door and the place was empty. You hadn’t been there in a few days. A quick scan told her everything essential to you was gone.

She whirled on Asterin. “Did you know?” Her second shook her head, her emotions flooding through her eyes. 

A small note on the table. Manon’s stomach dropped seeing it. She didn’t want to, but she had to read it. Instinct told her the note was meant mostly for her, even without a name on it., 

I love you. If you ever loved, cared for, or respected me, you’ll leave me alone. I hope you learn to think for yourself one day. 

Discolored spots and splotched ink littered the page. You cried while writing it. Manon dropped it like it burned her, and stalked out the cabin without a look back. 

Asterin read it one. Twice. Three times, and memorized it before destroying it. She took one last look around, trying to memorize every detail, before letting out a long breath and following Manon. 

-

The battle was over, and Manon still felt empty. A gaping hole left in her soul. Twelve pieces of her were missing. But, footsteps sounded behind her, and she prepared to snarl at whoever might be disturbing her. She was surprised when Abraxos didn’t react beyond curiosity. Manon knew that scent. Intimately. She whirled around to see you. Alive. 

“So you did learn to think for yourself.” 

#manon x reader #manon blackbeak x reader #asterin x reader #asterin blackbeak x reader #asterin blackbeak x y/n #manon x y/n #manon blackbeak x yn #throne of glass fic #throne of glass imagine #angst and comfort if you squint a lot #ending isn't really happy #not proofread #not poly I know they're cousins

[pascalispretty]

By Night, Beloved

Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3553

Warnings: fingering, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, wall sex, infidelity, reader is repressed and lonely, Cassian in his slut era, Cassian loses focus and has a consensual workplace relationship

Summary: Cassian meets with one of his informants and indulges in a little recklessness. Written for @thatesqcrush's Kinktober bingo, fulfilling the "Almost Getting Caught/Public Sex" prompt. No spoilers for Andor or Rogue One, but inspired by the references to Cass being a ladies man and having a taste for married women.

(Dipping my toe into a new fandom! Unbetad, so please be gentle. Thanks as always to @lannister-slings-and-arrows, this time for being my Star Wars expert.) On ao3 here.

This late in the evening, the villa is quiet. You strip off your finery as quickly as you can, abandoning jewellery haphazardly on the dressing table and pulling pins carelessly out of your hair. The fastenings of your dress are slow to undo by yourself but eventually, you shed the expensive silver shimmersilk, the skirts so voluminous that it almost stands up by itself. It looks like a ghost beside you as you pull a robe on top of your shift. 

As you step out onto the balcony, you can hear the roar of the waterfall in the distance, the lights of the palace just visible across the water. Naboo is one of the most beautiful worlds you’ve ever seen; you can’t imagine how much worse you’d have fared if your husband had been posted somewhere like Wobani or Mapuzo. Still, you can feel the chill air rolling off the water despite the robe you’d thrown on. 

You’d excused yourself from the dinner early, complaining of a headache and leaving your husband and the Governor of Naboo to endless hands of sabacc and glasses of emerald wine. There was something far more interesting waiting for you here. 

“You’re late.” Cassian steps out from the shadows. He’s wearing a stolen Imperial officer uniform, and you hate the way that it makes something dark twist deep inside of you. He looks every inch the part; the grey uniform fitted perfectly to his lean body, the ramrod straight posture, the gloved hands folded behind his back. Even the kepi on his head sits just so. The only thing out of place is the stubble; most Imperial officers go clean-shaven. 

“You’re lucky I could get away at all.” A white lie; it’s been almost a month since you’d seen him last, nothing would have kept you from coming. Folding your arms against the chill, you stand in front of one of the marble pillars, meeting Cassian’s inscrutable gaze. His eyes are dark and unfathomable at the best of times, and the peak of his cap casts a shadow over them. It leaves you with no idea whether he’s actually annoyed with you or not. 

“You said you had something.” Straight to business, then. You wonder where he’s coming from; whether he’s just passing through, or has an assignment on a nearby system. He had come quickly once you’d managed to get a message through to him, but you can’t allow yourself to imagine that has anything to do with you. 

“A rumour, for now.” You begin, tugging your robe a little tighter around your body. It’s a poor choice of words, your brain a little fogged by the wine you’d drunk with dinner, and Cassian is already shaking his head.

“You had me risk my neck for a rumour? What, gossip that you heard from some other bored housewife?” He steps a little closer to you, trying to keep his voice low. The jibe makes you frown, but you press on anyway. 

“From the Governor. The garrison commander on Malastare is ill, and his deputy is a moron - even by Imperial standards. It’ll be vulnerable.” You say softly, almost at a whisper. There will be nobody around your private quarters - your handmaids are gone for the night, and you’ve made it clear to your husband that you don’t like his guards around your bedroom- but the situation invites hushed tones. He digests the news, a muscle jumping in his tightly-clenched jaw. 

“How ill?” Cassian takes another step forwards, dropping his voice to match yours. The irritation is gone, satisfied that he hasn’t risked his life for something trivial. Out of the shadows, you can get a better look at him. He’s so pretty it makes your breath hitch, the delicate bone structure and dark eyes framed by thick, almost girlish lashes, features that don’t seem like they should belong to a ruthless rebel spy. 

“Gravely. They’re keeping it to themselves as much as possible, but the Commander asked Cadmus if he can foster his sons here if the worst should happen.” The mention of your husband’s name makes something flicker across Cassian’s face, but you can’t put a name to it. You doubt it’s jealousy; more likely it’s loathing. 

“I’ll pass it along.” 

“That garrison is the only toehold the Empire has left on Malastare-” 

“I know.” That muscle jumps in his jaw again.

“I’m not just a bored housewife.” You say, the words escaping you before you can stop them. The last thing you want is to sound petulant, exactly like the spoiled socialite you were expected to be. It was to your advantage when dealing with your husband and the other Imperial officers; it let you overhear things they assumed you were too vapid to understand or care about. But from Cassian, the jab sings. 

“I know that too.” Something has softened in his voice, just the smallest amount. “Everybody has their own rebellion. Someone told me that once.” 

You’ve heard it from him before, a long time ago. The first time that you’d fallen into bed with him. Funny, to think that fucking him was part of your own small rebellion. 

“How many Imperial wives have you bedded in the name of your rebellion, Captain Andor?” You’re teasing him now, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch. 

“I have my hands full with just the one.” 

“Not currently, you don’t.” You raise one of your eyebrows in a challenge. His eyes flick to the sides, glancing at his surroundings before taking another step closer to you. 

“You’re reckless,” he murmurs. It’s not a no. One of his gloved hands reaches out to touch your hip, his thumb stroking over the thin shimmersilk. The white fabric looks almost luminescent in the moonlight, a sharp contrast with the black leather of his gloves. 

“Perhaps. Us bored housewives have to find some way to fill the day.” You swear he rolls his eyes at you beneath the peak of his cap. The two of you step in sync this time, moving until your back hits the pillar behind you. 

He’s so close to you now, close enough that you can smell him; something leathery and male and uniquely him. He’s not a tall man, more lean than thick with muscle, but the way he has you backed against the cold stone of the pillar makes his presence seem larger somehow. 

“Somebody has to make sure you’re seen to.” The hand on your hip grips a little tighter, his other hand coming up to cup your jaw. For all that he might call you reckless, you know he wouldn’t linger if he believed it was too dangerous. Naboo is quiet; nothing happens here. It’s one of the last places anybody would expect a rebel spy to be. 

Cassian closes what little distance remains between the two of you and kisses you. It’s as though an electric pulse runs through your whole body, the marble behind you and Cassian in front of you the only things keeping you upright. Even the first soft brush of his lips against yours is enough to make you melt; it has been too long since anyone touched you like this, chaste as it is. 

Lacking in points of comparison as you are, you feel confident in your judgement that Cassian is an excellent kisser. Soft and tender when he had the time for it, feverish and passionate when he did not. If you’d met in another life, you could have devoted hours just to kissing him. 

The kiss deepens and the hand at your jaw steadies you as he licks messily into your mouth. The stupid peaked cap bumps against your forehead so you pull it off him, dropping it somewhere beside you. It leaves you free to tangle your fingers in his soft brown hair, a noise catching in his throat at the sensation. 

Cassian lets you go just long enough to shed his gloves and you shudder when his palms land on your waist again. You can feel the warmth of his skin through your shift and you arch against him. One of his legs pushes insistently between your thighs, heat flaring up inside your body. The fabric of your shift clings damply to you, but the coarser wool of his trousers offers an intense sensation as you grind down. The pressure leaves you gasping between hungry kisses, rubbing against his thigh like a Loth-cat in heat. 

“Dirty girl,” he whispers against your lips, voice rough and accent thick. There’s no defence you can offer. Not to a man who’s fucked you over tables and in your husband’s bed, who’d even taken you apart with his mouth and his cock after a fight, when the two of you were still spattered with blood. For Cassian, you let yourself be debased. 

He grabs at fistfuls of your shift, pulling it up and gathering it around your waist. You’re bare underneath, and you hiss through your teeth when the cold air hits your soaked cunt. Cassian grasps at the back of your thigh, fingertips digging into your flesh as he pulls. You follow his encouraging touch, hooking your leg over his hip and opening yourself up to him. 

The fingers of his free hand move between your bodies, pressing between your thighs and just barely brushing against the seam of your cunt. You whine softly, more of that electricity surging up your spine as he slides his fingertips through your folds. 

“You’re so wet.” His mouth moves from yours, nuzzling against your neck as he touches you. He presses soft, open-mouthed kisses along the side of your throat; it’s too dangerous for him to leave bitemarks, but you’ll carry the ghost of those kisses for days. His stubble scrapes at your skin, but you can’t think right now of the redness it might leave behind. 

“I’ve missed this,” you manage. This, because this is safer than you.

Cassian hums against your skin, nipping gently at your earlobe. His thumb finds your clit and you drop your head back like your spinal cord has been cut, boneless under his touch. Every slow circular stroke of his thumb sends sparks racing through your body and fans that familiar heat burning in your core. 

Every night you’ve spent alone in your bed, your own fingers between your legs as you feast on your memories, feels like a poor facsimile of this. You can mimic the touch, but you can’t come close to copying the weight of his body against yours, his mouth on you, the way his silky hair feels under your fingers. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasp out, sinking your teeth into your lower lip to stop a moan from tearing out of your throat. Instead of verbally responding, Cassian drags his tongue up the column of your throat, tracing the path of your jugular. It nearly hurts with how good it feels, this assault on your senses, and you move one of your hands down to clutch at his shoulder. 

You nearly choke when Cassian presses one of his fingers into you, so much thicker than your own. He sighs into the crook of your neck as you clench down around his finger, his breath hot against your skin. 

“Feel so good, love,” he says, so quietly that you almost miss it. His digits work in tandem, a brutal double assault that has you quivering. “If we had time, I’d want to taste you.” 

You’re already so overwhelmed; bringing up how heavenly his mouth feels on your cunt seems wildly unfair. 

“Tease,” you say, but there’s no real protest behind it. Every one of your nerve endings feels like it’s burning you from the inside out, your lower muscles locking down as you get closer to coming. Cassian must know that you’re so nearly there; he moves his fingers faster, managing to brush against that spot inside of you with every pass. 

Without warning he adds a second finger, curling them both inside of you. The added pressure against that little bundle of nerves on your inner walls is what sends you hurtling over the edge. Somehow, you have enough sense left to clap one of your hands over your mouth, muffling a moan behind your palm. Your orgasm tears through you like a wildfire, fierce and blazing, and you have to close your eyes against the onslaught. 

Cassian keeps working you as you come, pressing kisses onto the back of the hand you’re still holding over your mouth. When you finally peel your palm away he catches you in a kiss before you can take a deep breath, leaving you lightheaded. Rather than sating you, coming once has only made you greedy for more. 

Part of you wishes you could strip Cassian out of his uniform, to remove all the layers of gaberwool and linen and leather so you can really feel him. You can appreciate how good he looks in an Imperial uniform - it has its own twisted appeal - but it doesn’t compare to the rare trysts where you’ve both managed to undress. 

You know the body under the uniform. He’s all lean muscle and olive skin. There’s a faint dusting of dark hair on his chest, and more leading down to his groin. And there are sensitive spots on his shoulderblades and sides that make him groan and shudder when you drag your nails over them. 

Shoving the fantasies abruptly aside, you focus on what you have in front of you. Bringing your hand down, you slide it into the small gap between your bodies and try to find the fastening of Cassian’s trousers. He jumps when your fingers brush over the outline of his cock, nipping your kiss-swollen lower lip in retaliation. You feel the hitch in his breathing when you finally succeed and wrap your fingers around his length. 

The hand he has between your legs moves to help you, pulling his cock free and coating it with your slick. You take charge of keeping the fabric out of the way, your slip and his tunic gathered above your hips. It’s awkward, but you don’t have an alternative and both you and Cassian are past the point of caring, the desperation only making you clumsier. 

“Please, Cassian-” your voice sounds ragged even to your own ears as you plead with him, trying to get him to hurry. The kiss broken, he looks down at you with those big brown eyes, softer now than when the encounter had started. Before you can open your mouth again, he pushes into you, filling you with one slow, deep roll of his hips. 

The feeling makes you want to sob and your head pitches forward onto his shoulder. There’s no space to pull away, no chance for a reprieve from the ache of your muscles trying to stretch to accommodate him. It’s been too long; you’re out of practice. You give yourself up to it, clinging to his shoulders as he presses you harder against the pillar. 

Once he’s buried to the hilt in you, he doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath. His fingers twist into your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck to him again. You’re vaguely aware of him hushing you as his mouth returns to your throat, but he needn’t have bothered. You can’t get enough air into your lungs to make a sound anyway. 

It’s so quiet out on the balcony that you can hear the obscene sound your bodies make as he slowly pulls back out of you, leaving just the head of his cock inside you. 

“Fuck, love, can I-” he breathes against your neck. 

“Yes, whatever, please,” you cut him off before he can even tell you what he wants. You don’t care. Right now, he can do whatever he wants to you. 

Cassian doesn’t wait to be told twice. He fills you again with a snap of his hips, setting a fast, hard pace that leaves you gasping. If not for his hands and his body keeping you up, you would have collapsed to the floor by now. It’s all you can do to hold onto him as he drives into you, that familiar heat starting to flood through your veins again. 

Neither of you can be completely silent, not in the face of such an onslaught. He gives up on your neck and bites down on the shoulder of your robe, muffling groans and grunts against the expensive fabric. When the first whine escapes you, Cassian claps his palm over your mouth. You can’t help darting your tongue out to taste the salt on his skin. 

Between the pillar and Cassian, you have no room to move; you are only able to stay there and take what he gives you. The heat licking through your veins is so overwhelming that you feel feverish, Cassian groaning into your shoulder as you tighten around him. The pleasure has a sharp edge to it and you drink it in, determined to commit as much as you can to memory. You never want to forget this. 

It’s not long before you find yourself teetering on the brink of another orgasm. You’re so tightly wound that he could probably breathe on your clit and send you toppling over the edge. Instead, you slip one of your hands down and trace erratic, clumsy circles over the little bundle of nerves. 

Heat sears through you as you come, harder than last time. You sob against Cassian’s palm as all the tension that had been building releases at once, your heart beating so hard you wonder if Cassian can feel it against his chest. He groans against your shoulder as your cunt flutters around him, his fingers squeezing you tighter. 

His thrusts get sloppier, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. You rake your fingers through his hair, letting your nails scratch his scalp and wishing you could sink them into his back instead. His mouth finds your neck again, giving into the urge to bite down on the delicate skin as he comes. He pushes himself as deeply inside you as he can, grinding against you until he’s spent. 

A hiss escapes through your teeth when he pulls out of you, come already starting to trickle down your thighs. You’re both silent for a while, trying to recover your breath and calm your racing hearts. Cassian gently eases your leg down and drops his other hand from over your mouth. Instead, he sweeps his thumb over the skin he’d bitten down on. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he whispers. Leaning heavily on the pillar for support, you shake your head.

“It’s okay. It’ll cover.” It’s low on your neck; if the collar of your dress can’t hide it, you have cosmetics that will. When he’s long gone, off on some barren world, it’ll be a reminder for you. 

“Are you sure that you’ll be alright?” He’s still stroking the tender skin, but you know he’s not just talking about whatever discomfort the bite might have inflicted. Infidelity would be a death sentence for you; such an embarrassment to the Commander would not be tolerated, even here on a relatively peaceful world. 

“I could tell my husband I pinched it in a necklace and he would believe me,” you say, trying to make light of it. For a moment, Cassian looks as though he might say something, but the moment passes. He busies himself with fixing his uniform, tucking himself back into his pants and retrieving his gloves and cap. 

“Take care of yourself, love,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss on your temple, “I’ll pass along what you told me.” 

“Be careful.” It’s a pointless warning - he always is - but it makes the corner of his mouth tug upwards anyway. You watch him as he disappears over the edge of the balcony to climb back down to the lower levels. 

Once he’s gone, your first order of business is a bath. Your thighs feel sticky, and you hope the warm water will help you relax. You’ve barely shut the balcony doors behind you when a sharp knock on your door makes you jump. 

“Yes? Who is it?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level as you tug your robe back around you, hoping it hides the mark on your neck. 

“Josolé, milady.” One of your handmaids. You breathe a sigh of relief; if they’d caught Cassian leaving, they would have sent a squadron. “We noticed the lights were still on in your suite; is there anything you need?” 

“No, thank you. I’ll be running a bath and then going to bed,” you call out in the direction of the still-closed door. Before you can turn towards the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The bitemark is near the base of your throat, and you can’t help but run your fingers over it, just as Cassian had. All it would have taken was your handmaid disobeying your order to be left alone, and walking into your bedroom while you were on the balcony with Cassian. The idea of almost being caught unsettles you, and you resolve to be more cautious next time. 

You’re positive there will be a next time. 

#cassian andor #andor #rogue one #star wars #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #thatesqcrushkinkbingo

[violetrainbow412-blog]

86, baby! [E. M]

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Word count: 4.1K

Summary: Eddie finally graduates

A/N: FUCK CANON, everyone here is perfectly fine. And Robin and Nancy are probably in the same year as Eddie but ignore that, it's our boy's time.

Warnings: just some vol 2 spoilers and mention of sex

When you entered the school auditorium, most of the students and family were already there, so you panicked at the thought that you would not have a place, but this feeling dissipated when you heard Dustin calling your name. Taking up almost the entire row were Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Lucas, Max, Eleven, Mike, Will, the guys from the band, and of course Mr. Munson.

"I've arrived late?" you asked, taking your place between Wayne and the curly-haired boy, placing the bouquet of flowers you brought on your lap.

"You're just in time, it's about to start," Dustin replied, slightly excited. He was still hurt (as were most) but honestly, the pain was insignificant against what you had done: you had beaten Vecna. The bastard was finally dead thanks to teamwork and the entire town of Hawkins had witnessed the pitched battle. There was no way that they wouldn’t believe that you and your friends were innocent of the murders because the monster was in charge of speaking mentally with all the inhabitants to presume that he had been in charge of these acts. And come on, a bunch of teenagers playing D&D doesn't have the ability to summon such a powerful thing. Maybe a 'deal with the devil' that everyone presumed was believable, but not this. You had almost threatened the US government with burning the offices to the ground if they didn't clear your boyfriend's name. They agreed through Hopper's connections, and within weeks Eddie was struck off the fugitive list. You had distanced yourself from legal problems, but you knew that the trial of public opinion was continuing and proof of that was the bad looks you received when you were there.

From your spot you looked up at Eddie and smiled to find his hair messed up under his graduation cap. He was wearing a soft green toga and you could almost swear he was bouncing his foot up and down nervously. You knew how long he had waited for this moment and you also knew how much effort it had cost him, so after all that madness you had been through it felt good to have that victory.

The event began with the principal giving a speech, a student taking the stage to give another speech, and a couple of pieces of music by the band the high school had hired. The whole time I was whispering to Dustin about anything funny and it wasn't until it was time to hand out the diplomas that you kept quiet. They were a long way from getting to M, but you still stayed on the edge of your seat so you could watch the moment he walked onstage. As the students passed, the audience gave couple applause and when they finally named the first person of the last names with M, you made sure that Jonathan had his camera ready.

"Munson, Edward" they finally said and you started clapping. But what was your surprise to hear silence in most of the auditorium. Nobody was applauding him.

There was a moment of extremely awkward silence where you felt like you were short of breath. But that only appears for a few seconds.

"You did it, man!" Garreth yelled from his spot and you felt your eyes glaze over as the entire row of your friends began to clap fervently. Steve even whistled and the cheers could be heard all over the place. Eddie couldn't be happier to see a whole line of people applauding him and when his eyes landed on you, he felt like he might cry.

"Murderer!" someone yelled from behind and you felt your blood boil all over your body. In a way you had expected it, since Jason had taken it upon himself to promote these stupid ideas that Eddie was a monster, but he never stopped hurting. It didn't hurt you, but it hurt you for thinking it was going to hurt him. You turned to look for the owner of the scream and without remorse you raised your middle finger, hearing a couple of people let out a scandalous sound.

"Please refrain from any kind of scuffle in this room or you will be expelled," said the master of ceremonies, obviously referring to you making an obscene sign and not the person who had just yelled at your boyfriend. You turned to look at him and he was already walking down the stairs, his expression a little less happy than his thanks to the insult. So you got up from your spot so I could see you better.

"Munson!" you yelled, gaining everyone's attention. He watched as you formed a flirtatious smile on your lips "I love you!" you told him, like it was just the two of you, and he giggled as he blushed violently. You and your friends clapped again and the master of ceremonies asked for silence so that the next person could go up for their diploma. When he returned to his place, he swiveled in his chair to face you, still grinning broadly.

"I love you more" he gestured, blowing you a kiss afterward. The rest of the ceremony you kept quiet, feeling the disapproving looks of most and when it was over Eddie didn't even bother to come over to have his group photo taken, but went straight to you.

He surprised you when he grabbed you around the waist and lifted you off the floor, kissing you softly as he spun you around.

"Son," Wayne said to get his attention and Eddie practically threw himself into his arms. His uncle was holding back tears, but you and Eddie couldn't.

You saw the man whisper several things in his ear as he squeezed it tight, quite an emotional scene to watch.

"You came," Eddie said once he broke away, looking at the group of people behind you.

"Of course we were going to come," Robin said, reaching out to hug him too. Just like her, most of them hugged your boyfriend with joy and when they finished you gave him the bouquet of flowers.

"They are for me?" he asked excitedly and you reached out to kiss him on the cheek.

"Pretty flowers for a pretty boy," you complimented, making him smile.

"A picture, guys," Jonathan muttered, letting go of Nancy's hand and moving closer to point the camera at you. Eddie lifted the diploma with one hand and used the other to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. The flowers were held with the inside of the elbow "One more" he asked. Eddie handed the stuff to Dustin and you gasped when you felt him pull you back into his arms to kiss you on the lips. Some strands of his hair fell on your skin and the tassel of the mortarboard also, but nothing hindered the vision of your lips together and the smile that he had on his face.

"You have it?" Eddie asked Jonathan and he nodded.

"They’re so cute" exclaimed Robin next to Steve, without you being able to hear her.

"They’re disgusting"

"Don't be jealous" she teased, hearing him laugh too.

"Y/N" Wayne called you. Eddie reluctantly let you go and left with the band members, who hadn't stopped congratulating him.

"Tell me"

"I want to celebrate Eddie in our trailer and I wanted to know if your friends would like to come. You know he likes pizza so I thought I'd buy some for you to eat"

"That's great! Of course they'll want to go, I'll tell them right now"

"I wanted it to be a surprise" he interrupted you, a bit shy. The man was serious, but you knew he had a good heart. From there the boy had learned "Maybe you can tell them and while we have things ready you can entertain Eddie with something else, what do you say?" he asked and you nodded with a smile.

"I'll take him out for ice cream or something. It won't be hard to distract him" you exclaimed amused. You really had another kind of distraction in mind, but his uncle didn't have to know that.

"I didn't know Eddie had so many friends," he said, looking at all the people who were with him. It sounded like a nostalgic comment that could turn into joy. You could see in his face that he was calm knowing that there were so many people supporting his nephew and most importantly of him, that he was surrounded by so much love.

"Eddie is an exceptional boy, Wayne. No matter what stupid people say, we know who he really is."

"I'm glad you're his girlfriend" he confessed "Since you've been with him, he has changed a lot. He looks happier. And you are a good girl and if one day you decide you will be a great wife and mother"

"We just need Eddie to buy me the ring and I'll be happy to be a Munson" you exclaimed, and it was all true. If you thought about marriage, you couldn't see yourself with someone other than him "I'll go with the boys to spread the news, and then we'll leave" you informed and he nodded pleased.

As you approached again you saw Eddie telling a story and waving his hands exaggeratedly, while the others watched him intently. And watching it made you feel good about being part of that wonderful group of freaks.

You were not lying when you said that it would be easy to distract Eddie, because at that moment he was with you riding him in the back seat of the car, with many things in mind except the suspicion of a surprise party.

"Y/N" he moaned softly, feeling you grind against his cock. One of his hands squeezed your tit clad in the fabric of a wireless bra and his lips attacked your shoulder, tasting the sweat on your skin.

You had to admit that the distraction had been beneficial to you, for you hadn't had a moment alone for quite some time and were eager for that kind of intimacy. It was a good scene; Eddie's eyes were closed and he was letting out ragged moans, while you were breathing hard from the effort of climbing up and down on him. Luckily (or unfortunately?) there was no one to witness it, as you had parked in a lonely part of the forest and things had escalated faster than you thought.

His hands went to your hips and squeezed you there, marking the rings on his fingers on your bare skin. You knew that this was a sign that he was about to come and you let him guide you at his own pace, allowing you to relax so you could bring yourself to your orgasm. You two broke up almost at the same time and the sounds that Eddie made sent a chill down your spine.

"You know…" he started, breathing loudly down your neck "my idea of ​​the first thing I wanted to do after graduating wasn't exactly this, but I'm not complaining either" he teased, making you giggle.

"You looked hot in a toga, I couldn't help it" you replied in the same way, letting yourself fall to the side of the seat. It was going to take you a while to recover, but after the sweat dried up a bit, he handed you the dress so you could put it on. He also pulled up his underwear after throwing the condom in a bag so he could get dressed. He looked very handsome in the clothes he had chosen; a Motörhead t-shirt, new jeans, and somewhere in the van was the formal jacket he was wearing. You loved the way he always kept his metalhead style.

When you tidied up a bit of the mess Eddie had made of you, you leaned into his chest and let him hold you.

"I finally did it," he said suddenly, resting his chin on your head, "I made it out of high school."

"I never doubted you would," you murmured happily, pressing yourself closer to him and listening to the sound of his heartbeat. Now it was slow and steady and reassuring.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me, Y/N" he exclaimed and you got up from your seat to look into his eyes.

"What do you mean, babe?"

"For your support as a girlfriend", he explained to you "All those times you helped me study, your words of encouragement, the times you denied me kisses until I finished my homework" he listed and you laughed at the last thing "Everyone has I've said that I'm an idiot and I'll never get anywhere, but at least now I have the hope of getting into a university or getting a decent job. I know that my emotion probably sounds silly because you graduated a year ago and it wasn't hard for you because you're super smart..." there he was, rambling "and even maybe for you it's not that important, but I feel very happy to have achieved it and to have you in my life”

“Of course it's important to me, Eddie,” you said with a frown, offended that he dared to think otherwise “Everything you do is important to me. And I feel very proud of you, do you understand?

“Don't say that,” he murmured, pursing his lips. Did you say something wrong? But your fear dissipated when he spoke again "My uncle told me that and I started to cry" after that you smiled tenderly and forced him to look at you holding his chin.

“We are both proud of you, Eddie” you affirmed, while he looked at you with those doe eyes “And I am not only for this but for everything. For how you saved us in the Upside down, for being so amazing, for not being afraid to show who you are. There are many things about you that make me feel proud to have a boyfriend like you”

"Y/N, shut up already," he ordered gently, holding back tears. Lately he was very sentimental, but it didn't bother you at all, and in a certain way you understood him, so you raised your head a little to reach his lips and give him a kiss to reassure him, one softer and less passionate than the previous ones.

“I love you so much. You better never forget”

"The whole town knows how much you love me" he laughed, referring to the small number that was in the event.

"I had to fix that future memory somehow" you joked, but there was something bothering him and you could see it in his eyes.

“People will always see me as a monster and I hate having to implicate you in that. I don't want people to bother you because of me”

“I don't give a fuck what people in this town think. You and I know the truth and whoever dares to question it, I'm going to put a bullet in their butt so they can call us murderers with a valid motive”

“Since when did you become so bloodthirsty?” he laughed, looking at you with feigned fear. He loved that you were so willing to take care of him and defend him.

“Since we had to face that cheap and tacky copy of Freddy Krueger” you answered, wrinkling your nose at the memory “But seriously, don't worry about me and I don't want to hear you say that people are bothering me because of you. People annoy us because they are idiots with nothing to do” you snorted with a firm tone. Eddie nodded at that, feeling a little calmer. You went back to lean on his chest and then you were silent for a while, until a smile formed on your face "In other news, your uncle told me something very interesting"

"What?"

"He said we two should get married"

"What?!" he yelled. Honestly you had taken him by surprise and his reaction made you laugh “Why? You are pregnant?"

"Jeez, no!" you answered, while he felt his soul returning to his body “Well, he didn't say that exactly, but he said that he would like to see his nephew marry a girl like me. Only if we wanted, of course."

"And you want?" he asked. He didn't sound scared, angry, or anything. Just curious.

You looked up again and stared at him for a while, pretending to think about your answer, but obviously with butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the very thought. You and Eddie could maybe end up being just young love, but something in you told you that it wouldn't be like that; that you really had a future with that boy.

"Could be" you ended up replying, showing him a mischievous smile "I need to think about it because you snore a lot"

"You talk when you're asleep and I'm not complaining!" he defended himself “You say weird and crazy things, you scare me. You once said you were going to cut my throat."

"Who said I was asleep?" you asked raising an eyebrow and he widened his eyes as he tried to get away from you. But you didn't let him, because you kissed him again in the middle of a smile "You probably made me angry that day and you deserved it"

“You have a mind as twisted as your face is beautiful, you know that?” he answered and you knew he had you on the hook. You took the opportunity to look surreptitiously at your watch and noticed that an hour had already passed, just the time that Mr. Munson had asked you for the preparations.

“All these jokes aside, what do you say we go to your house? I'm a little hungry” you complained, pouting which Eddie then kissed.

“Only if we order pizza,” he said and you resisted the urge to laugh. His uncle knew him so well and you already wanted to see his face when he realized what he had planned.

“Deal” you replied. He carefully helped you back into the passenger seat and you buckled yourself in, his watchful gaze on you at all times. "What's up?" you asked, seeing that he didn't start and just kept his eyes on you. You liked the way he saw you, so sweet and loving. He couldn't fake that, even if he wanted to.

"I just realized that I love you more than I thought" he expressed, taking you by surprise and painting a blush on your cheeks. Eddie had this habit, saying the cheesiest things to you without warning "Because you just confessed that you have plans to kill me and I still find the idea of ​​marrying you attractive"

"You're a fool" you laughed, slapping him without any force. Eddie barked out a laugh and started the van, ready to drive off into what he thought would just be another afternoon of laziness and junk food, but the thought of you being his partner for life never left his mind.

As you’d expect, Eddie put on the happiest face when you got into the trailer, even if your friends had been clumsy enough to be fighting each other over where to hide to surprise him.

There were boxes of pizza, also a cake, as well as beers (soda for the kids, clearly), and a big sign that said 'Congrats Eddie!' You didn't think so many people could fit in the place and yet there they were.

During the afternoon you spent listening to music, eating, drinking, and chatting with each other, causing the biggest ruckus the Munson trailer had ever witnessed.

"Let's see who drinks the beer the fastest!" you heard one of the kids say at some point and when you came back to the living room you found Steve and Eddie quickly drinking the contents of the can. They were idiots who in a few hours were going to fall drunk, but you were going to let it go just because they were both happy.

Even the shyest people in the group had decided to play or chat or whatever was going on at the moment and that was a good sign. You promised Jonathan to pay him a good amount for the film and for his work when you asked him to capture the best moments in the meeting so you could put them in an album later.

Somehow you even settled in front of the TV and managed to watch a VHS of a horror movie that Robin and Steve had accidentally brought home from work.

When the sun began to hide some of the people were leaving the place and by night only Eddie, his uncle, and you were left.

"You two plotted against me," Eddie accused, pointing at you two from the couch. He was tipsy, which made him more dramatic than usual.

"What do you mean?"

"You distracted me so they could prepare the party, now I understand" he exclaimed. Apparently, the alcohol made his neurons connect and that was the funniest thing for you. You just hoped he didn't mention anything about you two having sex in the car.

"And did you at least have fun?" you laughed, while you collected the garbage in a big black bag. Wayne was grabbing his keys and jacket to go to work.

"Very much!" he hiccupped from his place "That dance the school organizes is pure shit, even if we had gone, I wouldn't have had such a good time"

"I have to go, Eddie" interrupted his uncle, who wasn't paying attention to the boy's words because he was minding his own business "Please don't drink anymore, do you understand?" 

"Can Y/N stay?" he asked, like a kid asking permission to have a sleepover with his kindergarten friends. Wayne saw you waiting for some signal and you nodded with a smile, since you planned to stay to take care of the boy anyway.

"She can, but go to bed early and lock the door," he stated and Eddie nodded with a smile. The man walked over to give her a quick hug before leaving.

"I love you, Uncle Wayne," Eddie slurred. His uncle smiled at him.

“Me too, Ed” he replied with a smile as he ruffled his nephew's hair. He turned to you to exchange a few words, as well as to ask you to make sure Eddie didn't overdo it, and after you nodded to all the care, he calmly left for work.

"Sweetheart?"

"Yes?"

"You give me a kiss?" he exclaimed. When Eddie was drunk, all he wanted was for you to kiss him. And when he was high too. And well, even sober that was his only thought. 

You laughed and after leaving the garbage bag on the floor you sat on his lap to give him what he wanted, feeling how he sighed under you. You weren't a fan of beer, but you liked the way it tasted on Eddie's lips.

"Let me finish packing things up and I'm all yours, okay?"

"No" he complained wrapping his arm more firmly around your waist "We can do that tomorrow… stay here with me"

“It will only be a second”

"Please," he insisted, with those puppy dog ​​eyes under his pretty long lashes. You gave up without much thought and let him catch your lips again. The kiss was gentle, with no apparent intention of getting to something else.

You continued kissing for a couple of minutes; sweet and loving caresses. Eddie liked being with you like this because it made him feel like he had some security in his life. If he had a bad day, you were there, but also if his day had been great you ended up making it perfect.

"You are sleepy, my love?" you asked, noticing his kisses getting lazier. He nodded against your lips, refusing to part even slightly. "Let's go to bed, okay?" you suggested, while you got up from your place and took his hand to guide him. Once in the room he took off his clothes and left them lying on the floor, leaving only his boxer shorts. You chose a shirt from his closet and put it on as pajamas, knowing that it was common for it to be cold at night.

“Y/N”

"Mhm?"

"Is it really that annoying when I snore?" he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow. It was obvious that such concern could only be the fault of alcohol.

“It's not, love. I was only fooling"

"Oh... good," he replied, looking satisfied enough. You moved closer to hug him and he buried his face in your chest, smelling his own cologne on the shirt you were wearing, while one hand planted itself firmly on your thigh.

He didn't take more than a couple of minutes to fall asleep and you joined him shortly after leaving a sweet kiss on his forehead that even in his dreams Eddie could feel.

TAG LIST: @sweetdayme4427 @smol-book-nerd

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn

[mountain-lion-gremlin]

Tiny vent (not really, venting about my horrible social akills.)

So lately I've been feeling like sort of someone who just can't text. I just cant, im so bad at doing it and I've never been able to fix it.

Ive always been awkward irl and have had trouble keeping in contact with people. I don't have loyalty it feels like I just move where the wind takes me. Genuine amazing people become friends with me but then they realize I'm too much, or im not right, or I'm just not worth talking to, and I end up forgotten. Nevermind the fact that I do the same thing to others.

Ive never been able ti keep friends around. It's a shock I even have a friend that has lasted more than 2 years.

All I've ever wanted is friends that i could be around and at least listened, and accepted me. I have that now irl, but I'm scared im going to lose them too. I try not to think about it because these people are people I care about so much.

And sometimes i wish I wasn't nonhuman. That I was a normal human and I was perfectly okay and was just.... idk normal to societies standards. Maybe I would keep people around. Maybe I wouldn't lose online friends and others because i knew how to react to things. Maybe it would be much easier for me to hear others and finally be able to understand what people are saying.

I learnt recently that I have an issue hearing people. (As if I didn't know) When i don't know people well I only catch 25% of what people are saying (guesstimate, because for the most part I only catch less than half of what others are saying)

It makes me feel so shallow. I hate having mental shifts halfway through a conversation and people's words becoming garbled nonsense even when they are being clear.

I hate how horrible I am at comforting people. I hate how I'm unable to understand people through text. I hate it I hate it I hate it.

And god the perfectionism. It's horrible, it's so bad I will spend so much time rewriting a single message to someone. I have to always send the perfect text. I can't let myself just text either, because it won't be good enough.

Am I expecting too much out of others? I feel like I've been pushed to my breaking point when it comes to online relationships. Nobody sticks around. I want them to, so bad, but they always leave me. Always.

I just can't click with people. Im angry and it hurts and I feel like giving up on people and friendships because it's just not working and-

ugh. Whatever. I need to stop this is spiraling into a rant. bye.

[luveline]

you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina,  to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

-

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

-

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

#listened to boyfriend by big time rush while writing hahaha #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #fred #fred weasly x reader #sad reader #reader insert #artist reader #fred weasley fluff #sorry for the big blocks of text tumblr has a 250 paragraph limit #why woukd they do that

[jingyismom]

Thanks everyone for the prompts! I decided to try and knock these all out in one go:

@thegirlwhotrashcans: remember, you asked for it. au, nobody dies, wwx and yanli bodyswap. they're married to lwj and jzx. 100% crack. bonus points if jin zixuan completely loses his shit and lwj looks very calm but loses his sh*t after everything is back to normal

@alightbuthappypen: Competency kink! One or both of them (when I say 'them' I mean wangxian obvs, I know what I'm about) getting hot and bothered about the other being amazing. On a nighthunt maybe? Or anywhere else that strikes your fancy!

@hearteyeswangji: WRITE MORE P*RN

I think I can manage that. With a few tweaks, accidental seriousness, and broad, ridiculous fix-its tacked on. I have no idea how long this might be. Let’s try it in installments? I’ll reblog and add on as I go. Maybe it’ll be fun. We’ll find out.

Disclaimer that this is just gonna go for it with no revising and no beta readers, so pls do not hold me to any conceivable standard of coherency thx

--

WILL INCLUDE: wangxian, xuanli, let jyl and lwj be friends agenda, canon divergence, fix-it, everybody lives, arranged marriage, bodyswap, light angst, getting together, Attempts at Comedy, eventual (light?) wangxian smut

The Sunshot Campaign has just been won. Everyone goes over to Jin Guangshan’s house after the Nightless City banquet, to Negotiate Stuff, and some hasty political marriages happen resulting in Xuanli Wedded Bliss and Wangxian Un-confessed Wedded Tension. Then, suddenly...a curse befalls our brave heroes.

--

Wei Wuxian wakes suddenly, feeling odd. He’s sleeping on his stomach for one thing, which is not his usual, but he feels warm and comfortable enough that he doesn’t think it strange. But then there is the scent of peonies and gardenias, which is both familiar and alien, somehow. It makes him open his eyes. 

Which is when he sees the hand before him on the bolster. It is slender and elegant. Small. Pale. Familiar? Wearing a jade bangle. He pushes himself up a bit, startled, only to see the hand move when he does. 

The hand. Is his hand. He stares at it. The shock of it, coupled with the early hour, leave his mind working very slowly.

At length, he becomes aware of an odd weight across his back, which then shifts. Wei Wuxian turns.

He is met with the sleepy, moon-eyed stare of one Jin Zixuan, still cradling him in his arms.

“What the fuck,” says Wei Wuxian. His voice is. Soft. And high.

He would think this was all some messed-up dream if not for the fact that his dreams of late have all been messed up in an entirely different way. He’s also certain, in an odd, detached way, that he never would have imagined the battle scars that mar Jin Zixuan’s distressingly visible skin.

Jin Zixuan’s brow furrows, and he blinks. “A-Li?”

“...What the fuck.”

~~~

When Lan Wangji wakes at his customary hour, he is just slightly more tired than usual. The coverlet over him is oddly heavy, but he does not give it any thought until light from the rising sun slips over an unfamiliar sill and into his eyes. His entire body goes tense as he remembers. 

Jinlintai. The long hours of debate, of negotiation. The hasty marriages. 

He sits up in his strange bed and turns. There, in the bed opposite, is Wei Ying’s sleeping form. Close, yet still distant. Safe, at least.

Lan Wangji relaxes, and takes a breath. It was a near thing, keeping the sects from demanding more and more from Wei Ying, from treating him like a criminal instead of the hero he is. But somehow, Jiang Wanyin and Xiongzhang ended up on the same page, defending him, working tirelessly toward a compromise with the more critical parties. And now Lan Wangji has the dubious honor of ‘keeping Wei Ying in check,’ as Yao-zongzhu so inelegantly put it, through marriage. 

A strictly political marriage. A convenient solution. To bind them together, to keep Wei Ying tied under the umbrella of Lan Wangji’s rigid honor. 

It is unclear, as of yet, if Wei Ying resents this arrangement. He has not been himself since Nightless City, and the destruction of Wen Ruohan’s forces. First his long coma, then a lingering tiredness that he has not seemed able to shake, which dampens his normally-vivid expressions of feeling.

Lan Wangji is worried. But this, at least, Wei Ying has made clear is unwelcome. He seems to want to pretend that nothing has changed. Not about himself, and not between the two of them. Lan Wangji has done his best to honor his wishes, despite everything.

Now, he rises and dresses before sinking into his morning meditation. It is still strange to do so fully dressed, weighed down by the propriety required for the public, but it has felt necessary, now that Wei Ying shares chambers with him. A physical manifestation of the barrier between them, more important than ever now that they are, bizarrely, married. 

Before his meditation is finished, he hears Wei Ying stir. It is unusual for him to wake so early. Lan Wangji’s eyes snap open, immediately searching him for signs of pain.

Wei Wuxian turns over, then goes very still. He sits bolt upright, searching the bed with wild eyes, then turns them on the room at large. When they land on Lan Wangji, he curls in on himself, the fingers of one hand tightening at the collars of his sleeping robe, clutching it closed.

“La—Lan-er-gongzi?” 

His voice is oddly breathy, and his eyes...they are wide with confusion, with just the slightest tinge of fear. Lan Wangji is struck nearly senseless by the term of address, aberrant in Wei Ying’s mouth.

“What is wrong?”

Searching the room again, Wei Wuxian moves toward the edge of the bed with a strangely graceful modesty. It looks alien on his long limbs. “My...my husband. Where…?”

The word jolts through Lan Wangji’s entire body. He has never heard Wei Ying say it before. He has...wanted to hear it. Dearly, he realizes suddenly. But it sounds wrong. Distressed. Everything Wei Ying says sounds wrong.

“Wei Ying,” he says. 

Wei Ying’s eyes snap to his. “A-Xian? Where is he? Is he with A-Xuan? Are they alright?”

Lan Wangji blinks at him, uncomprehending, for several seconds. Then he begins to understand.

“You are not—”

The doors to their chambers burst open, and Jiang Yanli rushes in. The tasteful purple and gold robes she has adopted in the few days since the weddings are loose, uncharacteristically askew—not impreprietous, but verging on it. She spots Lan Wangji and her stormy expression clears.

“Lan Zhan,” she says, and her shoulders droop. 

Lan Wangji blinks at her, thrown by her use of this name, then glances at Wei Ying, who has gone completely still, his mouth open in a small, shocked ‘o.’ Jiang Yanli follows his gaze and freezes.

Just then, Jin Zixuan comes barreling into the room, significantly more unkempt than his wife. He has not even tied back his hair. 

“A-Li,” he implores, “what’s happened? We can’t just go barging into our guests’,” he pauses, and bows awkwardly, hastily, to Lan Wangji and Wei Ying in turn, “rooms like this. Please,” he takes her arm, but she shakes him off. 

She’s still staring at Wei Ying. “Sh...Shijie?”

Wei Ying startles, and looks down at himself. He holds out his arms, his hands, and looks at those too. Then he looks up at Jiang Yanli. “A-Xian?”

“Shijie,” Jiang Yanli says, and slumps over to the bed, embracing Wei Ying.

“A-Li,” hisses Jin Zixuan, scandalized. 

Lan Wangji glances at Jin Zixuan’s wife embracing his own husband on the bed, and rises. He walks briskly past them all to shut the door. Then he returns. 

“Wei Ying,” he says again. Jiang Yanli looks up at him.

It is obvious, now that he has realized it. Her face, animated by his personality. The soft warmth of her eyes sharpened just so. The deliberately graceless way she threw herself—himself—into Wei Ying’s—no, Jiang Yanli’s—arms.

Lan Wangji takes a deep breath. “Is this a curse?”

“Yes,” Wei Ying says with Jiang Yanli’s face, but his own certainty.

“How can we break it?” Lan Wangji asks.

“I”m not sure, not yet. I need to try a few things—or—having the original curse would be safer.” He looks at his sister in his own body. “I...don’t really want to experiment with this.”

Jiang Yanli tsks and bumps his shoulder a little too forcefully, jostling Wei Ying in her currently slight form. “Vain,” she says, teasing.

“Shijieee,” he whines. It sounds bizarre in Jiang Yanli’s voice. “I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

“I know,” Jiang Yanli says, soothing. 

“Do you feel alright?” Wei Ying goes on, urgent.

“Perfectly alright, now that you’re both here,” she says, smiling at the newcomers in turn.

Something sharply acidic surges in Lan Wangji’s stomach at such a look on Wei Ying’s face, directed at...Jin Zixuan.

“Really, though,” Wei Ying presses, “any nausea? Dizziness? Pain? You’re not worried?”

“Not at all. Our A-Xian will figure it out.”

Lan Wangji watches as the appearance of Wei Ying’s knuckle affectionately brushes Jiang Yanli’s nose. 

Strange. It is all...so strange.

“If—”

“What is happening?” Jin Zixuan interrupts.

All three of them look at him. He stares between them, wild-eyed and desperately askew. Lan Wangji has never considered him to be particularly slow on the uptake, but he supposes allowances must be made for the stress of waking up with a stranger in one’s bed.

He does not care to investigate the perverse pang of jealousy he feels at the thought.

“A-Xuan, it’s me,” Jiang Yanli says. Jin Zixuan stares at her in Wei Ying’s body, uncomprehending. She goes on slowly, but not unkindly. “A-Xian and I have been cursed into each other’s bodies. He’s in there, and I’m in here.”

Her husband blinks several times, very quickly. Lan Wangji recognizes the moment it sinks in by the deep flush that rises across his entire face, and is certain he does not wish to know what precisely inspired it. 

Jin Zixuan takes an involuntary half-step back, then forward again, as he speaks with renewed urgency. “Why has this happened? Can it be undone?”

“Great questions,” Wei Ying says, falsely encouraging. Lan Wangji exchanges a glance with him, and it almost feels natural, to share such a thing with either Wei Ying or Jiang Yanli. “Someone was clearly either targeting me—that’s Wei Wuxian, that’s me, in here—or you...whom you know to be Jin Zixuan. I hope.”

Jin Zixuan turns a deeper shade of red. “Obviously,” he bites out. “But why?”

Wei Ying rolls his eyes dramatically. It is not something Lan Wangji ever imagined Jiang Yanli doing.

“We don’t know yet, but we will once we find and question the person responsible,” Wei Ying says. Jiang Yanli grips his arm suddenly. Wei Ying looks at her. “And yes, it can be undone. Of course it can. I’ll figure it out.”

“Cast a rebound,” Lan Wangji says, brisk. The more quickly they are done with this, the better.

Wei Ying’s face falls. “Ah,” he says, “well, we…”

“My cultivation is too weak for him to reliably use,” Jiang Yanli says suddenly. “And I’m not very good at the method, I’m afraid.”

Lan Wangji nods. Steps forward. Then hesitates. “If the curse was cast in such a way, one of you may end up in the caster’s body. And they in yours.”

They all look at Jiang Yanli. Her expression grows grim. “Alright,” she says, then looks to Lan Wangji. There is something steely in her expression that is familiar on Wei Ying’s face. “Thank you for the warning. Go ahead.”

Lan Wangji hesitates only a moment longer, expecting protests from the other two. But Wei Ying is wearing a small, knowing smile, and Jin Zixuan merely nods at her, reassuring. Lan Wangji senses his esteem for the Jin heir rising at such solid trust in his wife. 

He steps forward and casts the rebound. They all hold their breath. 

Wei Ying glances around, his wry expression entirely foreign on Jiang Yanli’s face. “Anything?”

“No,” says Jiang Yanli.

Wei Ying sighs. “More work for us, then.”

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli says, taking gentle hold of his wrist. “You know what this means.”

“Ah?”

“You’ll have to be me.”

“Ah. No, I—”

“A-Xian.”

Wei Ying scratches his head, a not-at-all ladylike gesture. “Or we could just stay in here and let these two investigate?”

The smile Jiang Yanli turns on him is tender, and knowing, and indulgent. “I’d like to see you try to sit still when there’s a puzzle to solve.”

He sighs. “Alright. But you have to be me, too.”

She nods, and theatrically slouches into a sprawling, sloppy posture. Wei Ying laughs, his head thrown back, a hand on his stomach. Jin Zixuan turns around, looking almost ill. 

Lan Wangji understands, and he doesn’t. It is dizzying, and distinctly wrong-looking, to see both of them this way. Yet there is also something endearing about it. About the parts of them that do overlap, and fit into each other better than one would expect. 

“A-Xuan,” Jiang Yanli calls softly, noticing her husband’s distress.

Lan Wangji gets the distinct impression that that tone in Wei Ying’s voice is not helping the situation.

“Jin-gongzi,” he says. “It would be best for all of us to go about our days as normal, and not to arouse suspicion. Wei Ying sleeps late, and will not be missed for the morning. Jin-shao-furen may claim mild illness until the afternoon. But you and I must behave as normal. There are still the other sects to host.”

“Yes,” Jin Zixuan says absently. He runs a hand over his face. “Yes. You’re right. A-Li—” he turns and looks at the pair of them on the bed, and pauses. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “I’ll go back and dress. Join me when—or—Wei—” he stops. “I will be attending my duties. Please let me know what else I can do.”

“Remember to act natural,” Jiang Yanli says. “When A-Xian joins you later, try to look less like a roasted tomato, hmm?”

Jin Zixuan’s mouth twists into a wry smile, and he nods at the floor, then flees the room. Jiang Yanli and Wei Ying turn their eyes to Lan Wangji.

“I shall also depart,” he says. He circles his arms to bow to Jiang Yanli, but Wei Ying stands and pulls him over toward the door. Lan Wangji lets him, and tries not to pull away from the improprietous touch from a married lady. 

“Lan Zhan,” he says, hushed and urgent. “I’m not...you don’t think I’m hurting her, am I? Just by being in here? Can you sense any resentment?”

Lan Wangji feels something tighten in his chest. Wei Ying has not let Lan Wangji so much as examine his pulse since he roused from his coma, but the idea that he is so constantly steeped in resentment as to cause worry that his very soul may be harmful...is distressing. He takes hold of his slender wrist carefully. It is still Jiang Yanli’s body, and he will treat it with the respect it is owed. 

“I cannot,” he says. The only energy in Jiang Yanli’s body is generated by her own small but steady golden core. “I sense nothing that may be harmful.”

Wei Ying lets out a relieved breath. “Alright. But, um. What about the other way? Is her...is my body harming her?”

Lan Wangji turns to go back and perform the same examination, but Wei Ying stops him. “No, that’s alright. I’ll. We’ll just get this over with, and we can. Between the two of us, we can fix whatever...whatever damage I do.”

Lan Wangji stares at him, but Wei Ying refuses to meet his eyes. At length, he nods. “We can.”

“Alright. Ah, thanks. You should go.”

Lan Wangji goes.

#my fic #prompt fic #the untamed fanfic #lan wangji #wei wuxian #jiang yanli #jin zixuan #i don't know why i bother this is NOT gonna show up in tags #i'm not gonna go through and censor things. i'm just. not gonna #also this post is...so ugly #will anyone even read it??? who knows elksfdjns #let's have some fun

[tacticaldiary]

I love your new theme!! Also can I request a Vanitas x reader fluff in which the reader is sleep deprived? Like they got 8 hours of sleep in the past week. (This based of of on me since I got the same amount of sleep in the past week. #insomnia sucks) So they fall asleep in a meeting and Vanitas tries to wake them up, but Noe tells him that they didn't get much sleep so Vanitas caries them to their bedroom and when he tries to leave the reader pulls them back in the bed? I hope this wasn't to confusing 😅 I'm sorry if this was a bit detailed. 🙃

Sleep Deprived

Pairing: Vanitas x (G/N) Reader

Genre: Fluff

It irks him that she isn't taking care of herself, but when she can't help it, he's inevitably there to help.

Masterlist

A/N: I actually love this idea. The more detailed the better!

He sees them slowly leaning more on more heavily on the table out of the corner of his eye, but it's only when he hears a soft 'thump' that Vanitas turns his head to look at them.

Y/N is fast asleep, practically dead to the world next to him. How they managed to doze off during a strategy meeting escapes him. Vanitas leans towards them slightly and prods their arm with the cap of the pen he's holding. Nothing. Not even a flinch.

"Y/N?" He places a hand on their shoulder and shakes them gently. After a few moments where the entire room's attention is on them, Noe speaks up.

"I think it's better to let them sleep." He says, brow creased in concern. He'd noticed their fatigue increase over the past few days, but when he'd tried to bring it up with them yesterday, they had dismissed him with a laugh, telling him not to worry.

"They haven't been sleeping much, to my knowledge."

"What?" Vanitas narrows his eyes and gives them a once over properly. They really do look...dishevelled. There's always bags under their eyes, but right now, they're more prominent than he's ever seen them.

He's not noticed until now. How stupid of him.

"Well, since it's hardly alright to leave them uncomfortable here, I must excuse myself." He stands, pleased when nobody protests, and makes his way next to them. With a little manoeuvring, he manages to pick them up, one arm hooked under their knees, the other supporting their back. He can't deny the twinge of worry he feels when they barely even acknowledge him.

The walk to their room isn't far, the meeting being held in one of the rooms in the building.

"You really should take care of yourself better." He talks aloud, knowing they probably cannot hear him. That was fine. He nudges the door to their room open with his foot.

It's a fairly simple one, a room he's been in many times. Late night talk, him sneaking in even though there really was no reason for him to be sneaking, when it was perfectly acceptable for him to just use the main door-

He approaches the bed and gently lowers them down, taking more care that he'd like to admit, placing them gently on the mattress. Their head lolls to the side and now that Vanitas gets a proper look at them, he can really tell how badly exhaustion has settled into them.

Frowning, he allows his fingers to gently brush beneath their eyes. He didn't like the bags, reminders of how they were struggling. Sighing, he pulls his hand away, He should probably get back to the meeting now, though part of him wants to stay here with them. They look more relaxed than he's seen them in a while.

Shaking his head, he moves to stand from where he's sitting. He tries, that is.

A hand gripping the back of his clothes tugs him backwards. The strength is surprising for someone who was completely unresponsive to being jostled and carried. The tug, accompanied by how utterly unprepared Vanitas was, sends him falling onto his back next to them.

He stills as he feels them press against their side and sigh, a puff of air against the shell of his ear.

"Stay...stay please." They mumble, words slurred with sleep but still clear enough to decipher. He blinks as their hand comes up to loosely grip the front of his shirt, resting on his chest.

He's not one for such casual intimacy but...something inside him give way at how adorable they look, nuzzling into him and he can't deny the way his heart speeds up and the pretty flush of red creeping up the pale expense of his neck and ears.

He rests a hand on top of their head, his gaze unusually soft. There's no teasing smile or cocky smirk just...a gentle, fond expression.

"If that's what you wish." He says quietly as to not wake them up further. His smile widens at the way they seem to relax further into him at his words.

Requests Are Open

(20/12/2021)

#vanitas of the blue moon #case study of vanitas #the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte #vanitas fanfiction #vanitas #vanitas x reader #vanitas no carte fanfic #vanitas no carte fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #x reader #x y/n #vanitas fanfic #vanitas x y/n #vnc x reader #vnc #vnc vanitas #vnc fanfic #vnc x y/n #the case study of vanitas fanfic #the case study of vanitas fanfiction

[writertitan]

As the World Caves In

pairing: levi x reader

word count: 3449

themes: levi’s pov, certified levi angst, lots of pining, levi just needs a hug tbh, song fic request that i think fits the vibe of the song

requested by anon

War.

All Levi can see is war. Everywhere, every second, every hour. It was all he had ever seen, from the moment he’d been born. He had long accepted that war was as inevitable as breathing. With that acceptance had also come the knowledge that that was all he would ever see. Only the gore, the death, the filth of war.

His feet ache as he trudges down the street alongside his horse, the reins loosely gripped in one hand as he keeps his head down, too tired to face the curious gazes of civilians. The evening rain splatters relentlessly atop his head and dribbles down his cheeks and soaks into his sullied uniform; the rain has always bothered him, but it is especially bothersome today.

He is here to fight for the beauty of humanity, but it isn’t a beauty he would ever get the chance to see for himself. That beauty was for those who came after him. He would suffer for them, he’d face the ugliness for them, if it meant that nobody would ever have to go through the horrors of fighting for humanity again. He would take it. He could take it.

A glance towards Hange tells him all he needs to know. The squad leader’s shoulders are hunched forward and Levi purses his lips, knowing they’d injured their back hours before, a result of so much heavy lifting. The wagon full of corpses and dead weight is much farther behind them, but the creaking of wheels seems deafening. Today, it feels like the world is ending.

Gore, and death, and filth. That’s all war is. All that war is, is the end of the world, every day.

With a sigh, Levi lifts his head up to stare straight ahead, expression as steely as ever.

He is here to fight for something that isn’t his. No need to get caught up in his thoughts about it.

War.

War was his life’s purpose. It was all he’d ever get to see. He’d have to see the end of the world every single day. There is no beauty in war.

-----

Fifteen minutes later, the first handful of scouts have started wandering off, Levi’s gaze wandering with them. Some of them go to greet family members. Others slump together in alleyways to take a break. And then there are others that have stepped into a tavern, a couple of them beckoning for Hange to come along. Members of their squad.

Before Levi’s gaze could turn away, Hange, always perceptive, meets his eyes.

“Want to come grab a drink?” they ask him.

Levi feels his jaw clench tight at the thought. He shakes his head.

“No,” he answers simply.

But it’s too late.

Hange grabs a hold of him and calls for a scout to come help with Levi’s horse. A designated horse-sitter, it seems, who does it solely for the promise of the steady flow of booze to be delivered to him outside.

“I just want to get back to base, Hange,” Levi protests, but his voice is dull and lifeless. There’s no venom to his fight.

“One drink, and it’ll be nice to get out of the rain,” Hange insists. They’re trying so hard to be upbeat, to have life in their eyes. Levi knows Hange well enough to see past the facade. There’s no signs of joy past the surface.

Hange wants to be numb tonight and have a warm body nearby. It’s the least Levi can do.

As dirty as he thinks taverns are, Levi feels much dirtier when he steps in, spattered with mud and blood and whatever other filth. He’s still drenched from the rain. It hasn’t let up and he doubts it will cease at all until tomorrow morning. He can hear it thundering on the roof of the tavern, like a furious heartbeat.

His boots squeak as he follows his comrades to a table; it’s not lost on him that the tavern has grown completely silent the moment they arrived.

He tries to ignore it but Levi’s prone to returning a few curious or frightened stares with some mean glares.

He does just that as he walks behind Hange, and it seems to work. But there’s one stare coming from somewhere in the tavern, he can feel it, but he can’t find the eyes. Everyone else has taken the hint and ducked their heads away. Almost everyone.

When he finally finds the pair of eyes on him, a crack of thunder booms outside and Levi swears that it stops time for a moment. Can thunder do that?

You clearly work here at the tavern, hair tugged out of the way and apron stained with ale. Eyes as big as the moon when they widen at the realization that he’s caught you staring. But you’re not staring in fear or curiosity or annoyance. Your eyes only hold kindness.

Levi doesn’t realize he’s frozen in place until you turn your head away from him and hurry off. It’s only until your gaze is torn away that he remembers he can move. And then he hears Hange calling for him from the table they’d settled on, a spot waiting for him.

He feels heavier and lighter simultaneously as he sits down and tries to focus on the meaningless mutterings between the scouts after shedding his cloak and jacket. Not even Hange is contributing to the chatter.

It’s not long until he feels someone behind him and Levi stiffens, the fresh memory of your face popping into his head. Slowly, he turns his head to look.

It’s you.

You’re expertly balancing a tray on your shoulder as you set down pints of ale in front of his comrades, not a word leaving your mouth. You can read the room perfectly. Levi can’t even bring himself to be angry that you didn’t come to ask about their drink preferences first. He’s willing to drink ale tonight.

But he’s surprised when, instead of a pint, you set down a mug of steaming tea in front of him.

“I’ve heard that you prefer tea, sir,” you murmur, and he can sense that you’re timid about what you’ve just said. Then you add, “But let me know if you’d like something else to drink.”

Levi is at a loss for words and he can’t pinpoint the feeling in his chest. He just nods curtly, staring up at you, holding your gaze, watching the way you get more and more flustered. Finally, he looks away, down at his tea, and brings both hands to wrap around the warm mug.

“Thank you,” he says, and slowly turns to watch you walk away from over his shoulder.

Is the tea thing really a topic of conversation everywhere?

He takes a sip and, while it’s an average cup of tea by his usual standards, Levi swears no other cup of tea has warmed him up faster in his whole life.

-----

The next time he’s at the tavern, it’s the night before departing to go beyond the wall. The soldiers are already some bottles deep in drink, swallowing their grief down along with the ale. It’s raining again, harder than the first night he’d come here. And Levi’s eyes have searched for glimpses of you since he arrived.

You always seem to escape his view. There are only fleeting glimpses as you saunter around, cleaning up and serving, and then disappearing to the back of the tavern where only the employees are allowed. You’re not the one to serve his table this time. But the fact that he was served a cup of tea tells him that you’re aware he’s there.

Levi doesn’t notice that when he can’t see you, you can see him. Thus, your gazes never cross paths.

He finally gets a good view of you when you come out wearing a cloak and a tired smile and tired eyes, and agree to help a barmaid serve a table of men a few meters away from his table, before you leave. You look uncomfortable as you serve them. They’re rowdy. One of them grabs the sleeve of your cloak and tugs hard. Levi hears the ripping of seams and then an uproar of drunk laughter from the table. And those eyes of yours fill with tears as you try to pull away to no avail.

Levi doesn’t realize he’s at the table until his hand is fisted into the man’s hair and yanking it so the drunkard can look at him.

“Keep your filthy hands to yourself,” he says in a low voice. He’s as calm as ever, but there is a dark undertone to his words that has the man and all his friends shutting up and shrinking back.

It disgusts him that these men would make you experience something like that.

When his eyes find yours, you’re looking at him in wonder, tears still lingering at your lash line.

“Thank you,” you breathe.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he mutters, and his only coherent thought at that moment is that his heart is pounding against his chest like the rain is pounding against the roof. Furious heartbeats.

The terrors of the world dawn on him full force when you clutch your cloak tighter around you and look towards the door. Levi knows war, and he knows terror, and he knows evil. He’s never thought about the fact that out there, you’re just as prone to the end of the world as anyone else. This tavern, this dingy little tavern, has been an escape for him.

It terrifies Levi to think that you’re out there on your own.

“Are you going home?” he asks you, and when you nod hesitantly, he makes up his mind. “I’m walking you home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” you begin, but Levi shakes his head.

“I want to,” he interjects. “It’s late and I’d like to know you’re safe. You seem like the type that finds trouble easily.”

“I seem like the type?” you echo, a corner of your mouth twitching up briefly. A hint of a smile.

Levi mentally curses himself but doesn’t elaborate further.

“Yep,” he confirms.

How can he tell you that he thinks that about you, not because of those men, but because you’d caught his attention? You’re doomed if you’re around Levi. Anyone and everyone is.

But he just can’t help himself.

“Okay. Thank you,” you whisper with a shy little smile, your eyes twinkling in the dim light of the tavern.

Levi clears his throat awkwardly and follows you out, ignoring the questions from his comrades, and definitely ignoring the little whoops from the ones who are too stupidly drunk to behave.

The rain is pouring from the sky and Levi grimaces, always bothered by the rain, and pulls the hood of his cloak over his head. He turns to you as you do the same, and only in that motion does he see how badly that drunkard has ruined your cloak. Your head may be protected from the rain, but your body is getting drenched.

He doesn’t give it a second thought before pulling off his cloak and shoving it your way with a grunt, the rain instantly drenching him.

You look at him in surprise, eyes as big as the moon again when they widen, and shake your head swiftly to refuse.

“Your cloak is useless. Use mine,” he tells you before you can verbally decline. “I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with a lot worse things than getting wet.”

You reluctantly switch your cloak for his and Levi folds your ruined one over his arm so you don’t have to carry it. And then you start walking together, falling in step with each other easily. The streetlamps illuminate the wet pavement as the two of you walk together.

“Captain Levi, you really didn’t need to walk me home,” you say after a few beats of silence. The only other sound is the pattering of rain.

He turns to look at you briefly, because he just can’t stop looking at you, and for a moment he feels a dark pang in his chest when he looks you over while wearing his cloak. The green looks lovely on you, and while his heart flutters at the image of you wearing something of his, it also sinks at even the thought of you being a scout.

Levi would never want you to own a green cloak of your own. He would never want to expose you to war.

There is no beauty in war.

And you are very beautiful.

His head spins for a moment.

It’s the first time Levi has ever thought that about anything or anyone.  

He has never had the luxury of seeing something beautiful before. He sees death and he sees war and he sees terrors beyond the walls. Levi has seen nothing but the cruelties of a dying humanity.

And now here you are, so beautiful, the person who gives him tea and stares at him with wide, kind eyes.

“It would just make me feel better to know you’re safe,” he says when he realizes he hasn’t said anything back yet.

You give him a shy smile, and then Levi replays your words in his mind and frowns to himself.

“And you can just call me Levi. Not Captain Levi,” he adds.

When you say your name, Levi realizes you’ve never been properly introduced. He didn’t even know your name, and you’ve got him acting this way.

Like everything else about you, your name is beautiful to him.

“Don’t you just love the rain?” you sigh, stretching a hand out from the cloak to catch raindrops on your palm.

“I hate it, actually,” Levi responds.

He cringes at how blunt he sounds, but when you actually laugh, he softens and looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“Why do you love the rain?” he asks.

“Because it makes everything look beautiful,” you answer easily, turning to him to give him a smile. “I think rainy days are magical.”

Levi takes a look around, and he doesn’t see what you see. Everything just looks wet.

But when he looks at you, he sees the way that the raindrops catch onto a few stray strands of hair peeking out from under the hood of the cloak you wear, and he sees the way the air puffs out of your mouth from the chilly temperature, and he sees the way your eyes glimmer in the faint light of the streetlamps, and he thinks that’s beautiful.

It turns out you don’t live that far. The short walk makes Levi frown in disappointment, but when you reach out and gently touch his arm to get his attention, he feels a rush of heat flow through him. And something else, another feeling that he still can’t quite pinpoint.

“Come inside for a bit to dry off. I have tea,” you tell him.

And how can he refuse that?

He helps you start a fire in your little home and he lets you make the tea however you want instead of giving his usual instructions. When you give him a quilt to wrap up in after hanging up the cloaks and stepping out of soggy shoes, Levi is almost in disbelief at the comfort he feels as your hands playfully toss the fabric around his shoulders. The comfort almost makes him uncomfortable.

He only knows war. He doesn’t know this...new feeling. What is it? It feels like it’s at the tip of his tongue.

When he looks out the window, he knows better than anyone that there’s a war going on. He’ll be riding out to meet it face to face tomorrow morning.

But when you sit down next to him in front of the fire and hand him his tea, a quilt draped around your shoulders too, the both of you fall into a lovely silence and Levi can actually forget about it all. In your little home, it does not feel like the end of the world.

For the first time in his life, he is experiencing something beautiful.

-----

Levi’s feet ache as he trudges down the street.

A scout has agreed to take his horse back to base at Levi’s request. Though he usually wants to get back to base as soon as possible, today is different.

Two days outside of the walls and all Levi wants is to see something beautiful. He can hear the creaking wheels of the wagon carrying the dead, far behind him, but haunting him.

He feels heavy.

And he’s back to feeling like it’s the end of the world, and the world is on his shoulders.

He doesn’t want you to see him like this, deep down. Right now, he looks a mess, and he feels a mess. He’s not beautiful, and you don’t deserve to look at the result of war. And Levi is the result of war. He’s scarred, physically and mentally, and he looks like he’s seen nothing but doom. In truth, he has.

But none of that stops him from trekking to your little home, the evening light slowly turning to dusk as he approaches your street.

He’s basically operating on instinct, horrors flashing through his mind as he knocks on your door. There was so much death, again. There was so much fear and so much terror, again. It’s the end of the world.

The things thrumming through his mind stop as soon as your door opens as he’s greeted with the sight of your wide, surprised eyes.

“You’re back,” is all you say, and Levi swallows thickly and nods.

You can see the remnants of war in Levi’s eyes and he can tell, and he feels ashamed to make you witness that. But his shame ebbs when you step aside to silently welcome him inside your home, eyes as kind as ever.

“Would you like some tea, Levi?” you ask him, voice just above a whisper.

He steps inside and everything is as he remembers it from two nights ago. There’s a fire crackling and a few quilts tossed over chairs. He spots the one you’d let him borrow and wants nothing more than to have you wrap it around him again.

That indecipherable feeling comes back again as soon as the door closes behind him. The one he can’t quite place yet. When he looks at you, he feels it stronger than ever and makes his gaze soften.

“I’d love some tea,” he murmurs.

Levi stiffens when you move toward him rather than to your kitchen. He’s frozen in place, doesn’t know what to do when you’re inches away from him. Your eyes search his face before your hand comes up to gently caress him from temple to jaw, just once, and then your palm settles nicely on his cheek.

“I’ll make us some tea, then,” you tell him with that gentle smile of yours, and then pull away from him to go to the kitchen.

He stands there for a few moments longer before settling into the chair he’d sat in before, quilt wrapped around him as he stares into the fire.

The smell of tea wafts to him and Levi turns to watch you prepare it.

Beautiful.

That unknown feeling is coursing through him now, and Levi has come to the conclusion on what it is, but doesn’t want to believe it.

Because a man like Levi doesn’t know anything about this feeling.

What does a man like Levi know about peace?

He looks out the window and understands that the world is ending if he doesn’t do anything to stop it. There is war out there and he has to fight.

But when he looks at you, it doesn’t matter.

He’s been fighting for something that isn’t his. Maybe that can change. He can let himself have this. He can let himself know peace, after an entire life of fighting. Levi would like to fight for you. He’d like to fight knowing that it’s to make sure you never have to see what he sees.

Even if the world is ending, it’s okay right now. He’s okay with it as long as he can stay here with you and protect you from it.

When you give him his tea and sit next to him, you don’t bother to press him to talk about it. Levi appreciates that. When you cup his cheek again like you’d done earlier, he’s glad you don’t say anything when he leans into your touch. He doesn’t want words right now.

He just wants to revel in the feeling you’ve brought him.

Peace.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi one shot #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fic #levi fanfiction #levi fic #levi ackerman #levi #aot fanfiction #aot oneshots #aot #snk fanfiction #snk #attack on titan fanfiction

[dreamescapeswriting]

Under The Table ~ LF [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.4K

GENRE: Smut, fluffy, teasing, use of names “cock whore,” oral both F and M receiving, cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it people) 

PAIRING: Lee Felix x Fem!Reader 

The dorms were unusually quiet when you walked through the door, your boyfriend was sitting on the sofa concentrating on a game while you could hear mumblings coming from the kitchen. This was as quiet as it could ever be in the dorms considering there were eight men that acted like children living there. You figured the rest of the boys were all doing their own thing while Chan and Hyunjin were cooking was you suspected to be a lovely meal,

"Y/n? Oh, thank god!" You heard a dramatic sigh from Hyunjin as he called out your name, gesturing for you to join him and Chan in the kitchen, Felix looked up from his console and smiled at you. Taking in your appearance as you headed into the kitchen to see what the boys wanted. You were wearing his favourite outfit on you, a black floral dress with your hair just the way he liked it. He knew you'd dressed up for him which made him feel warm inside at the thought of finally getting to see you.

"I need your tasting ability, Chan said it's spicy." You rolled your eyes at the comment of spice coming from the one member who couldn't handle species in the slightest. Chan stared at you with his arms folded across his chest waiting for some kind of sarcastic comment to come since he knew you all too well to know something was coming his way.

"Why do you ask Chan? He can barely handle ginger nut biscuits," You teased, taking a clean spoon from the drawer and trying some of the soup that was bubbling on the stove in front of you. It looked as though it would be a little spicey but nothing that was too much since they all knew how much Chan hated the spice.

"Seems perfectly fine to me Hyunjin, Chan's just a baby." You nudged Chan playfully in the side before leaving to go and join Felix on the sofa ignoring the sarcastic laughter coming from Chan. It had been so long since you and Felix got to hang out together and this was the first time you'd seen him in over two weeks so you were going to take every opportunity to get as close to him as you could, 

"I missed you," You whispered, wrapping your arm around his as you laid your head on his shoulder watching him play on the game you'd gotten him recently for the switch. It turned out he was just as addicted to Stardew Valley as you were, playing it every spare moment that he could. 

"I missed you too," He cooed, saving the game before he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and snuggled together with you, staring down at your dress as he played with the hem. 

"You like it?" It was a stupid question since you knew this happened to be the dress that Felix loved on you, well...loved to rip off of you but who could blame you for wanting to tease him just a little? 

"You know I do," He growled in a low voice so that only you could hear him speaking, the doors to the dorm bedroom's opened and slowly the boys began to appear one by one. Some of them going into the kitchen to sneak a taste of the food while the others came to talk with you. You'd gotten close with each of them over your time with dating Felix, it was as if you were apart of the family. 

"Are you staying tonight?" Jisung asked as he stole the switch from the coffee table in front of you all, earning a death glare from Jeongin who had initially been going to grab it first.

"I wish, I'm up early tomorrow for work and I didn't want to wake anybody up," You pouted, Felix's grip around you tightened as he thought about letting you go later that night. All he really wanted to do was keep you with him longer than he could, just the two of you. As much as he loved the fact that you got along so well with the boys he wished he could have some time with you by himself, the two of you hadn't gotten that in so long. 

"Are you coming back after work?" Felix whispered to you as the boys began talking amongst one another, as you turned to look at Felix you realised how upset he seemed that you would be going home soon after eating but you nodded. 

"If you want me to? I have some time off so I can come over..." He nodded at him, placing a small and quick kiss on your cheek as neither of you was fond of being overly public with your affection for one another not wanting to gross the other boys out or rub it in their faces.

"Sounds perfect to me, I have no practice this weekend," You smiled at the thought of you both waking up in the mornings together, it was normally spent laying in his bottom bunk your head laid on his chest listening to his slow heartbeat while he ran his fingers up and down your back. It was one of the most relaxing ways to wake up beside Felix, not to mention the most romantic if he decided he wanted to sing to you in the mornings. 

"Dinner is served," Your thoughts were interrupted by Hyunjin who was ringing a small bell to announce that everything was ready, Felix tapped your knee and you both raised from the sofa.

The table was spread out beautifully, seats were around the table with place settings and cute napkins laid out. 

"We went a little over the top," Hyunjin chuckled as he pulled out two chairs, one for you and the other for Felix beside one another at the end of the table. This was just supposed to be a cute "we missed you" meal but it looked as though Chan and Hyunjin had prepared a full course meal and the table was decorated for a restaurant.

"Dig in," Chan called out as everyone glanced at one another nervously not knowing if they should start or not, 

"Here," You laughed softly picking up your spoon and showing that the soup was fine to eat and the boys followed along. Even Chan decided to eat some of the soup as he began eating. All of you exchanging conversations about how their week had been going, talking with one another about all of the different things that they had been up to. 

Throughout the meal your hand innocently began to rest on Felix's knee while you spoke with Changbin about some of the songs he'd been working on recently. 

"I've been working on a joke song lately, Chan and I have been blocked," He sighed as he shook his head, Chan immediately laughing as he remembered the day they had spent in the studio creating a joke song together.

"What's it called?" You questioned with a hesitant tone, staring at Changbin who was starting to turn a little red. 

"Can't Live Without You Changbin," He answered making your mouth fall open as you began to giggle softly at the title track, asking him for lyrics as your hand slowly and innocently began to massage Felix's thigh not noticing what you were doing at first. The thing was that one small touch from you sent Felix into a spiral, pining after you as he felt your hand raising higher on his leg but you didn't seem to notice and if you did you were doing a good job at playing dumb. 

"Lix? You okay?" Chan's voice made you turn to look at your boyfriend who was gripping onto his glass of water so tight his knuckles were beginning to turn white and his cheeks were red. 

"Lixie?" Your voice came out almost as innocent as your touch but as soon as you felt Felix's leg twitch you knew what was going on and what was making him like this. 

"Feeling a little light-headed," He lied as he raised the glass to his lips and took a sip but you smirked to yourself. Raising your hand towards the crotch of his pants where you gently ran your fingers over the outline of his cock, just like you thought. He was hard and clearly ready for you which only made you smirk more at the thought of teasing him under the table in front of everybody.

"I'll get you some ice," Seungmin said as he got up from his seat and headed behind you into the freezer. 

"My poor baby," You cooed in Felix's ear, your breath sending shivers down his back and he knew then that you were teasing him.  

"Babe," He hissed to you so that only you could hear him but you ignored him starting to palm him through his trousers as you kissed his cheek softly. Playing innocent around the boys while you were doing something completely opposite out of their line of sight. 

You felt Felix twitch under your touch as you continued to palm him through the denim fabric of his jeans so you rubbed your hand down his thigh giving him a break but it only made him grunt out. 

"I'll get you back," You nodded at him as he whispered into your ear, 

"Not yet, the boys are all here." You stared at him and he glared back at you, wishing he'd never agreed to your deal about not having sex when the boys were at the dorms. 

"What if we had ice c-cream for dessert?" Felix stuttered through his sentence as you began to rub him again but he managed to keep his cool. Locking eyes with Chan as he hoped they would go to the store and buy something for you to share, 

"Ice cream sounds nice," Minho agreed looking at the boys for their opinions. 

"Sure. We could all go for a walk-"

"No! No! I mean-" Felix cleared his throat as he realised how quickly he had cut off Hyunjin and he bit down on his lip. 

"Y/n and I can stay here...We'll do the dishes," Your hands were on the table now, staring at Felix in horror as you realised he was about to get all of the boys out of the house for one reason and one reason alone. Punishment time. 

"If that means I don't have to do the dishes I am completely fine with that," Changbin called out as he rushed up to get his coat and mask hurrying so nobody would change their mind. 

"Amen to that," Jeongin chimed in, following in Changbin's footsteps as he headed for the coat rack at the entrance of the dorms. 

"Dish duty, I'll wash you dry," You told Felix as you began to run hot water from the faucet. Felix let out a dark chuckle as he came up to stand behind you. Grinding against you so you could feel what you had done to him over the course of the last hour under the table. 

"Oh no. We're not doing any dishes, not yet." He bit down on your ear lobe as you let out a shaky breath, 

"W-What if the boys come home and ask why they're not done yet?" Your eyes fluttered closed as Felix continued to kiss and suck down your neck until he reached your shoulder. 

"Then you'll explain something to them. I need you." He growled, running his hand up your thigh, lifting up your dress as you gasped out at the sudden cold air to your core. 

"My dirty girl," He mumbled against your neck spinning you around so suddenly you dropped one of the plastic cups you had been holding.

"Up on the side," You frowned at his words not moving, 

"Why the side?" You questioned, staring at the countertop behind you as he smirked. 

"You're right, food is meant to be eaten at the table." You let out a small squeal as he suddenly picked you up, carrying you over to the kitchen table before laying you down on the hardwood. Grabbing your ankles he pulled you to the edge of the table, putting your feet onto the wood and slowly spreading your legs to expose your clothed core. 

"My dessert," He chuckled, running his thumb over your clit through your underwear. 

"I haven't even touched you yet and look at you, already dripping." You whimpered as he began to pull down your underwear, lifting up your ass so that he could get them off with ease. He let out a small moan as he watched your core closely, licking his lips at the sight of you.

"Fuck, I'm starving." He smirked at you, putting your underwear into his pocket before kissing either of your thighs.

"Mind if I get a taste?" You hated that he was going to take his time with you when you both knew you wanted this to go fast so you could be together before the boys came home. 

"Lixie," You protested as he continued to tease you but he ignored you continuing to kiss your thighs until he reached your core. Blowing cold air onto your clit before smirking wildly at you as you let out small whimpers. 

"Lix." You hissed as he took his time, 

"I need you, don't tease." You moaned out as you locked eyes with him, he smirked sinking down onto his knees in front of you and he ran his tongue through your folds slowly a few times before attaching his lips to your clit. Moaning out in sync with you as he pushed his face deeper against your core, burying himself deep into you. 

"F-Fuck!" You cried out as he moans out against your clit, sending a vibration over your body that made you cry out his name.

"Felix!" You moaned out, running your hands down to his hair and threading your fingers through, begging him not to stop as he began to lap up your juices. Sliding two fingers into you as you cried out his name. Your legs began to shake as you felt yourself getting closer. 

"L-Lix- close," Was all you could manage to muster out as he hummed against your cunt. Dragging his tongue up the length of your clit and humming once again. Your body shook as he continued to do it over and over again, eating you out as if you were the ice cream he'd sent the boys out to get. 

"Felix!" You mewled out shaking your head as you knew you were going to cum but he continued to push against you. Staring up into your eyes as he smirked, 

"Cum." He ordered you, gripping onto your thighs tightly as he continued to pump two fingers into you roughly, curling them up as you moaned out his name. The pleasure exploding inside of you as you threw your head back against the wooden table, screaming out his name as he continued to eat you out prolonging your orgasm until you were shaking violently from his touch. 

"Cute," He chuckled darkly, wiping the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand as he stared down at you, a panting mess. 

"Your turn," You hummed as you slid down from the table, doing your best not to lose your balance as you pushed him onto the table. He leant against the edge of the table staring down at you as you shakily undid his trousers and pulled them down to expose his cock. You let out a gasp as you felt drool running down the corner of your mouth. Your eyes staring at his erection as Felix watched you closely, waiting to see what you would do. A giant smile took over his face as you licked him from base to tip before taking him into your mouth. He let out a groan as you began to take his cock in and out of your mouth periodically, pushing yourself deep so you could gag on it. 

"O-Oh fuck," He moaned out rolling his hips in time with you as you moaned around him, looking up to see him in total bliss. His eyes were fluttering as he let out small moans and whines, you continued to take him into your mouth. Gargling and gagging around him as you tried to please him as much as you could with your mouth but he suddenly held you down on his cock. 

"J-Just like that," He groaned out as your throat contracted around his cock for a second before he pulled you off him and moaned, you had a string of saliva and cum dripping from your lips and your eyes were tearing up but you'd never looked so sexy, 

"T-Table, quick." He moaned out, kicking off his trousers as you hoped back onto the table. Hearing him chuckle as you at the edge of the table, 

"No, no princess. Ass up, chest against the wood." You whimpered sliding down from the table and bending over so you were exposed to him. He pushed up your dress and slapped your ass cheek playfully, letting out a small moan as you bucked against his touch. 

"So obedient for me after being a tease during the meal," You shivered as he began to run his cock between your wet folds, your clit throbbing out for him to sink into you. 

"Tell me how much you want me," He was breathing heavily now as he continued to rub your cock through your wetness, you knew he needed you as much as you needed him so you weren't going to tease him anymore. 

"I-I need it, I need it more than ever...L-Lixie it's been too long." You whimpered in submission and Felix let out a whine. Sinking into you as you let out a loud moan, hands gripping onto the edges of the table. 

"All mine," He moaned out as he pulled back out of you looking down at his cock that was covered in your juices, 

"So fucking hot." He praised as he began to move inside of you once again. His dancer hips snapping in and out of you in practised motions as he fucked you, making you cry out as it built up your orgasm inside of you. 

"Fuck! Felix!" You cried out as he continued to fuck into you, making your eyes roll back as you laid your head against the cold wood, 

"Feel good baby?" He asked rhetorically as he continued to snap in and out of you at an unruly pace. 

His phone lit up on the table and he smirked feeling you clenching around him, he knew you were close so he told you to check his phone, 

"Who is it?" He questioned as he continued to slam into you, moaning out as he felt your wet walls clench around him once again just the way he wanted.

"T-The boys, they're j-just down the road," You dropped his phone as he pulled at your hips, 

"You better cum quickly then, unless you want them to see you like this," He hummed at you, reaching down to rub your clit as he continued to fuck into you.

"Do you want them to see how much of a cock whore you are, just for me?" You screamed out at the name and Felix let out a dark laugh, 

"You like that name? Looks like I'll have to use it more often my little cock whore," Without warning, you came around his cock letting out a pathetic squeak as your lips parted and his name was the only thing you knew what to say. Cumming around him until he thrust into you holding himself deep as he came hard. Hips jittering as he held you close to him, letting his hot cum fill you up as you struggled to think straight.  

After a couple of seconds, Felix pulled out of you, grabbing some napkins as he kissed your cheeks holding the napkins at your core. 

"Go clean up, I'll make a start on the dishes," He whispered to you, kissing you before you began to carefully run in the direction of the bathroom. The boys walking through the door a short time later and yelling out that they had ice cream and other snacks ready for when the dishes were all done. 

Tagline: @taestannie​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @minholuvs​ @sw33tnight​ @acciocriativity​ @that-anxious-bisexual​ 

#skz #skz x reader #skz x you #skz smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #lee felix #felix smut #felix x reader #felix imagine #felix imagines #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #bang chan #chan #seo changbin #changbin #lee minho #minho #hyunjin.hwang hyunjin #han jisung #jisung #kim seungming #seungmin #yang jeongin #jeongin

[lazypeachsoul]

are you thanking me or your god? - u.r.

Pairing: Uhtred Ragnarsson x fem!reader.

Request: by @viktoria12 “Hey can you write a imagine with Uhtred? The content is up to you🙏”

Warnings: Nothing.

Word count: 1.601 words.

A/N: I have to admit this was a bit tricky because I've never read uhtred imagines. But it was fun, i really like uhtred as a character. i hope you like it and I'm sorry it has taken me some time to post it.

Masterlist.

To be added to my taglist use this forms or write me an ask!

Winchester was the busiest it had been in a long time. With the coming of spring, the merchants were returning to the city to trade and spending too much time around the alehouse. Spirits were high after the blessing given by the priest on Easter and the year was expected to be calm and fruitful. Except for the danes lurking in the surrounding areas. But nobody would dare talk about that when it’s the Lord’s day.

Good weather meant people would go outside more, and therefore more gossip. Every turn you took on your way to the market, you would hear a different rumour. Most were about the health of the king, some were about the threat of a battle. You even heard one about danes walking around the city freely.

But your head was too centered on the task at hand. Abbess Hild had asked you to go to the market for flour and other necessities, and you wouldn’t dare disappoint the Abbess. You weren’t even a nun and you still followed her orders like a soldier.

Your house was close to the convent and, ever since you walked past the gates and into their garden when you were young, they had treated you like their family. Sometimes too much when it came to the boys your age. But they were only trying to protect you.

Sister Hild, later Abbess, had always surprised you. Not only did she have a strong will and personality, she was also physically strong. More than what a woman of god should be. but still, with all her strength, she needed you to go buy the necessities that they couldn’t get from their garden.

Too distracted by your thoughts and the gossiping going around, you collided against someone making you almost tumble to the dirt floor. If it hadn’t been for a quick hand grabbing your dresses you would be covered in mud and other disgusting stuff.

Looking up you saw a scruffy looking man, but not in a bad way surprisingly. This man looked almost too different from what you were used to seeing around Winchester. Something about his reaction told you he was trained, and the scars in his hands and handsome face gave away he was probably a soldier. For who is what you were curious to know.

Realizing the compromising position you found yourself on, with a man holding your dress, you quickly tried to regain your balance. The man let go and you tried to stutter an apology, but your attempts were stopped by a sweet but authoritative voice behind you.

“Uhtred! I was looking for you, we need to discuss…” Her voice got interrupted when she recognized you in front of the man. “What are you doing here, darling? I thought you would be in the market by now.”

“I tried Abbes, I just had a little-” You tried to speak but were interrupted by a deep voice. In a normal situation you would be angry at such interruption, but when you heard the voice you couldn’t really care about it.

“We had a small incident, Hild. Don’t worry, nobody is hurt.”

The voice fit the man perfectly. With a deep voice he spoke calmly and yet you could pick up a joking tone towards the Abbess. Who is this uhtred man? Why is he joking with Hild? But wait, how does Hild even know a man like him?

Full of curiosity you realized you were still standing between them. Clearing your throat you nodded at Hild and turned around with a smile to your saviour.

“Thank you Lord for helping me. I’m in your debt.” Nodding your head you moved past them, not missing the small smile on the man's face.

“You owe nothing to him, young lady. He's heathen. He doesn’t deserve your compassion.”

A loud laugh was heard from the man along with what sounded like a smack, probably to the leather of his armour. The words of the Abbess circled your brain for the rest of the day. So he was a heathen, a friend of Hild and incredibly handsome. Great, what a mysterious man.

After your chores were done and you took some time to relax outside of your house, the world seemed to dissipate around you. The soft sound of quick steps and panting made you look up from your dress, breaking the peace of your surroundings.

Eanflæd was running towards you, people looking her way either worried or weirded out by your young friend’s race. She reached you just in time to ungracefully collapse on the bench you were sitting on.

“Is everything okay, Eanflæd? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run that fast. Not even when the chickens escaped.”

She was trying to regain her breath, but took the time to pinch your arm for the reminder of the chicken run.

“You...you…” She panted before taking a big breath. “You weren’t going to tell me you have been seeing the Dane-slayer.”

“Who?” You couldn’t hide your surprise.

The only person you had seen outside your family was the man who sold you the produce for the abbey. And also that man…

“Are you talking about Uhtred?”

“You know him enough you don’t even talk about him like a lord?”

You tried to hide your laugh but a small snort came out.

“I don’t know him. He merely saved me from an ugly fall this morning.” Shrugging you tried to dismiss the gossip. “But you do seem to know about him, so tell me…”

The next day didn’t allow for much thinking about ‘the Dane-slayer’. You had been working non stop in your father’s farm and everything hurt. But your mother has asked you to take some fresh eggs to her friend, and you couldn’t say no to your mother’s gentle face.

It was late enough for the ruckus of the market to have died down, but not enough for it to be dangerous or improper for a young woman to be walking around unaccompanied.

Too absorbed in your own thoughts you didn’t hear the neigh of the horse until it was too late for you to react. Looking at the animal getting closer you couldn’t help but try and pray that you would be saved, but no prayers came to your head at that moment.

Just when you were about to give up and close your eyes, something yanked you out of the way making you barely dodge the horse and the man on the cart who was yelling at you. Your heart was hammering in your chest, ears ringing and hands shaking. The eggs were no longer in your grasp but smashed against the floor, although in that moment you could make yourself care for them.

The same hand that had yanked you out of the way, spoon you around. Your saviour was none other than yesterday’s saviour. you really were in debt with this man now.

“Are you okay?” His voice was worried, a contrast to the day before’s joking tone.

Time seemed to slow while you assimilated what had happened. Probably too much time passed before you could answer but the man didn’t seem to care. When you could trust your voice to speak again, the words came out all at once.

“I was nearly trampled by someone’s horse in the street, but you stepped in just in time to get me out of the way even if it put you in danger as well.” He smiled at the jumbled words and after a deep breath you tried to regain your thoughts. “Thank you, lord.”

“Are you thanking me or your god?” Uhtred spoke and you knew he was trying to avoid your shock at the incident.

You thought about the answer and tried to smile, probably looking more like a grimace.

“Both? Yes, I think I’m thanking both.” Your voice lowered, probably to avoid other people hearing you talk that way about the Lord. “Both is good.”

He smiled and took a step back looking at you, probably checking for any injuries. The people of Winchester were used to accidents and didn’t normally care, but you could feel some stares on you. Probably because of Uhtred and his fame.

“You seem to be in one piece, can’t say the same for the eggs.” He pointed at the road.

“You have saved me twice now, lord. I might have to ignore the Abbess and ask you what I should do in return for you.”

“I wouldn’t ignore Hild. You don’t want to know what she can do with a sword.” He tried to dismiss the conversation but your curiosity only grew. “I only ask for one thing in return.”

You nodded, asking for him to continue and still trying to imagine Abbess hild wielding a sword. You knew he was a soldier, and a good one. But Hild? No, she was a woman of God.

“Stop distracting yourself when walking around. If you don’t you might end up like your eggs.”

“But if I stop getting distracted, what would you save me from, Dane-slayer?”

What possessed you in that moment to utter those words you couldn’t really say. You just knew it was not entirely proper and that if your mother heard your ear would hurt from the scolding. But the smirk on Uhtred’s face was worth it.

“So you know who I am. But I know nothing about you. Is that unfair?”

“I have my ways, Lord Uhtred. Maybe when you save me next time I could tell you something about myself.”

"Let's just hope it's not a dangerous situation then. Just to make sure you can tell me after."

taglist: @webreathfandoms

#the last kingdom imagine #the last kingdom x reader #uhtred x reader #uhtred imagine #uhtred ragnarsson x reader #uhtred ragnarsson imagine #the last kingdom fanfic #myfic

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

MY DEAR WIFE. I DESIRE A SEQUEL TO THE JIMMY EMPIRE FIC. I MADE THIS TUMBLR ACCOUNT TO MAKE MY DEMANDS. NOW GO BE FREE. WRITE YOU FANTASTIC FANFIC WRITER YOU. -BEST SPOUSE, PURP <3

this was a popular request LMAO :D

here’s the first part

…

The ringing of her communicator wakes Lizzie up late in the night. Blinking herself awake, she quickly answers it, speaking quietly so as to not awaken her sleeping fiance next to her. “Hello?”

“Lizzie, it’s Pixl,” comes the familiar British voice. “I’m so sorry to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” Lizzie says. “Is something wrong?”

“Something’s happened with Jimmy.”

Lizzie’s heart skips a beat. “Is he okay?”

“I’ll explain everything later but I could really use your help right now. Are you able to come to the Cod Empire?”

Momentarily forgetting that Pixl can’t see her, Lizzie nods. “Of course, I’ll come over right away.”

“Thanks so much, Lizzie,” says Pixl gratefully. “See you soon.”

“See you.”

Lizzie puts down her communicator and gets out of bed. Just as she’s finished changing, her fiance stirs in his bed and murmurs, “What’s going on? Who was that?”

“Pixl,” replies Lizzie softly, secretly glad he’s awake; she wouldn’t have woken him first. “Something’s happened to Jimmy, and Pixl needs me. You okay to come over to the Cod Empire with me?”

Joel sits up in his bed, immediately more awake. “Of course, of course. Let me get dressed.”

The two fly straight over to the Cod Empire and land outside Jimmy’s house. Pixl answers the door on the first knock. “Queen Lizzie, thank you for coming,” he says gratefully. “And King Joel.”

He leads them inside. Lizzie and Joel both gasp simultaneously as they spot Jimmy lying on the bed.

Joel freezes but Lizzie dashes to his side and grasps his hand, staring down in horror at the bruises covering Jimmy’s face. “Oh my goodness! What happened to him?! Is he okay?!”

Pixl joins her on Jimmy’s other side. “He’s recovering,” he responds grimly. “You know the demon Xornoth that’s shown their face around the server lately?”

“Heard of them.”

“fWhip and Sausage seem to be around the epicentre of the whole thing. They captured Jimmy, kept him in a cell for a whole day, beat him several times, then tried to sacrifice him to Xornoth. Scott and I managed to save him but he almost died from his injuries before Scott was able to heal him somewhat with magic.”

Lizzie gazes down at Jimmy with a worried expression, gently touching his face. He stirs slightly under her touch.

After a moment, she speaks again, her tone low and dangerous. “fWhip and Sausage, you said?”

Pixl nods. “Yeah. Scott and I chased them off but I’m a little worried about them returning to finish the job. That’s why I asked you over; I could do with some help protecting him. If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.” Lizzie retracts her hand and presses her fist into her palm. “Hell, if either of them show their faces around here, I’ll rip them apart with my bare hands.”

Now Joel moves closer to the bed, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Poor Jimmy… I can’t imagine how terrified he must’ve been.”

As Pixl opens his mouth to respond, another knock at the door sounds. The three frown at each other, trying to work out who could possibly be at the door.

After a moment, Pixl heads back over to the door and answers it. His gaze darkens when he sees who’s standing there. “You’re not welcome here.”

Lizzie stiffens as she hears MythicalSausage’s voice: “I just wanted to ask how Jimmy is. And to… apologise.”

“Apologise?!” Lizzie bursts out.

Joel draws Pixl out of the way as Lizzie storms to the door and shoves Sausage backwards. “You TORTURED my friend and you think you can just walk over here and APOLOGISE?!”

Sausage scrambles back as a furious Lizzie bears down on him. “I had nothing to do with hurting him! That was all fWhip!”

“YOU THINK THAT MAKES IT BETTER?!” Lizzie bellows.

She flings out her arms and manipulates the ocean water into grabbing hold of Sausage and bringing him closer to her. “ACK!” Sausage chokes, struggling uselessly. “LIZZIE!”

“I’m going to kill you, Sausage,” growls Lizzie. “Would you rather be flung high into the air and fall to your death or drowned in salty ocean water?”

“N-Neither!”

A dark smile appears on Lizzie’s face. “Too bad. I’ve decided I’m gonna drown you.”

She lifts the water higher. His scream is abruptly cut off as the water envelopes his head, stopping him from breathing. She watches with satisfaction as his air slowly runs out.

But then Pixl’s voice comes from behind her: “Lizzie, he’s calling for you. He needs you.”

Lizzie pauses, weighing up her options. Eventually, she releases Sausage onto the dock, taking grim pleasure in the way he splutters and coughs up water. “You’re lucky this time, Sausage,” she says. She kneels down beside him and pushes her face close to Sausage’s with a menacing glare. “But if you ever, and I mean EVER, come near Jimmy again, you’re gonna wish you were never born. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-Y-Yes!” gasps Sausage.

Lizzie steps back and lets Sausage flee, before rushing back inside and back to Jimmy’s side. Her ally is stirring, his eyelids fluttering. “L-Lizz...ie…”

“I’m here,” whispers Lizzie softly, holding his hand against her cheek to reassure him of her presence. “I’m here, Jimmy. Are you okay?”

Jimmy coughs weakly. “M-My wrists hurt.”

Frowning, Lizzie pushes down Jimmy’s sleeve, revealing the thick red marks. “Wh-What is this?!” she gasps. “Pixl?”

“It’s…” Pixl hesitates, knowing what his next words will likely cause. “They’re burn marks. He had his hands tied behind his back for most of the day in that cell.”

Joel glances sharply at his fiancee. “Uh oh.”

Thunder sounds overhead as dark clouds rapidly slide across the sky. Lizzie’s expression remains steady, but lightning flashes in her eyes. “I’ll be right back, Jimmy,” she says, her voice as steady as her expression. But it’s just an act for Jimmy’s benefit and both Pixl and Joel know it.

Neither Pixl nor Joel stop her as she storms out of the hut and takes off flying towards the Grimlands. She lands atop the outer wall, rain starting to fall from the sky.

“FWHIP!” she bellows, her voice rolling through the clouds and echoing across the land.

Seconds later, the count himself appears atop his tower, within audible distance despite the increasingly loud thunder overhead. “Queen Lizzie!” He spreads his arms wide. “How may I help you?”

A bolt of lightning strikes the very top of fWhip’s tower.

“Aha, what have I done to invoke the wrath of the Ocean Queen?” fWhip laughs.

Instead of replying verbally, Lizzie lifts her arms and summons a giant wave of water from the river, sending it crashing down like a tsunami over the Grimlands.

“NO!” fWhip yells. “My villagers! You’re gonna drown my villagers!”

“MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU TORTURED JIMMY AND TRIED TO MURDER HIM!” roars Lizzie.

fWhip stares at her for a moment as he finally remembers that Lizzie is one of Jimmy’s closest allies. “...oh…”

Shaking himself into action, fWhip dives down into his flooded village. Lizzie watches him, taking grim satisfaction in watching him flounder around in desperation. She doesn’t even realise how close he is to death until-

fWhip drowned

Lizzie quickly dissipates the flood and jumps down to look for fWhip’s items. As she’s starting to pick them up, fWhip reappears, so she retreats back to a safe distance.

“I’ll get my revenge for this, Ocean Queen,” growls fWhip. “I will not take the attempted murder of my villagers lying down.”

“I don’t give a crap,” Lizzie snaps back. “Don’t you dare think about going near Jimmy ever again, because if you do, I can promise you I will wipe your goddamn empire off the face of the world and I will NOT regret doing it.”

fWhip narrows his eyes. “You’re messing with the wrong empire. I too have the power to wipe an empire out of existence.”

“I live in the ocean. The bulk of my empire is underwater now. Your TNT will make a scratch at most.”

fWhip’s mouth opens, then closes again. After a moment, he looks away. “Fine.”

Lizzie raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re backing down that easily?”

“I’m being smart. You’ve no idea what’s coming, Lizzie. I do. I need to prepare. I can’t afford to be dragged into another war right now.”

As fWhip turns, he finds Lizzie extremely close to him. She grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him close so that their faces are inches apart. “Then don’t start one,” she snarls. “Stay away from my allies.”

She shoves fWhip away and takes off again, flying back to the swamp. Part of her feels bad at the attack on fWhip’s innocent villagers but she pushes it aside. fWhip tortured Jimmy and was perfectly willing to slaughter him when he was tied up and defenceless.

Lizzie has no sympathy or mercy for a person like that.

When she gets back, Joel meets her at the door. “Lizzie, you’re back!” he gasps. “I saw the death message in chat.”

“Yes. fWhip needed to be told that I won’t tolerate him hurting my Jimmy.” Her gaze flickers from Joel to Pixl and back again. “Or any of you.”

Joel gazes at her with almost visible hearts in his eyes. “I love you so much, Lizzie.”

Lizzie can’t help a chuckle. “I love you too.”

“Guys, guys, come quick!” Pixl calls suddenly. “Guys!”

The two quickly rush to Jimmy’s beside but stop dead simultaneously when they see what Pixl is so panicked about.

A mark has appeared on Jimmy’s neck. It looks like some kind of rune, but what’s worrying about it is the fact that it’s glowing red.

“What is this?” Lizzie gasps. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know! It just appeared!”

After a few seconds, the glowing dies down, leaving only the clear black mark.

“This has got to be something to do with the demon,” says Pixl shakily. “I don’t know what or how or why, but somehow, fWhip and Sausage’s attempted sacrifice of Jimmy must’ve caused this.”

“But what can we do about it?” Joel asks. “What can we do to help?”

Pixl has no answer to this.

Nobody does.

#empires smp #pixlriffs #ldshadowlady #solidaritygaming #smallishbeans #fwhip #mythicalsausage #vaunna’s requests

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

you sunshine, you temptress || h. styles

warnings: mentions of sex & alcohol, fwb, swearing

word count: 1.6k

summary: a night in jamaica and a morning in london change your life entirely...

They say it takes 66 days to form a habit. But you’d already lost count of how long you’d been sleeping with Harry. It already felt like an addiction.

His skin on yours. His lips on your neck. Your hands in his hair. His cold rings against your warm thighs. These were things you craved. And, at first, you’d felt guilty sneaking around with Harry. But that grew into pure lust and excitement at the very prospect.

No strings attached. It had always been no strings attached. Sex, drinks, maybe some more sex, and then do it all again a few days later. Sure, maybe it would get repetitive. Maybe it would bore you occasionally. It began to almost feel like a routine and that wasn’t what either of you wanted. You wanted spontaneous sex and moments of overwhelming lust. But it kept the two of you happy. What more could you ask for?

It started in Jamaica. On a holiday with your mutual friends. Maybe this wasn’t where Harry deemed the origin of your arrangement to be, but it was certainly where you did.

The two of you and a group of friends had gone back to Jamaica for a couple of weeks. Harry had settled on Jamaica as the destination because he’d had such a euphoric time the first time he went to write his first album. He simply wanted to return without the looming pressure of work.

Sarah had gone to find Mitch, leaving you outside on your own. You didn’t at all mind. It was hot, the sun warm on your bare legs. You had your book in hand, though you’d long forgotten it. Your eyes had fluttered closed, the heat making you tired despite the lovely sleep you’d had the night prior.

It went cold and, as you opened your eyes, you looked up at Harry, who was standing over you. He smiled down at you, tugging the book from your hands. He sat himself down opposite you, where Sarah had once sat. “I love this book,” he grinned, inspecting the cover. “What did you think?”

“I’ll tell you if you let me finish it,” you said, sheltering your eyes from the sun with your hand.

He chuckled, tossing it back to you. You watched him carefully as he lay back against the chair, running his hand through his unkempt hair. The two of you sat in silence for a good four or five minutes. He cleared his throat, “Soaking up the Jamaican sun, are we?”

You shrugged, sitting up to look at him, “Well, I can’t get a tan in England, can I?”

He laughed, “Suppose not.”

And that was that. But that was the first time you felt something different when speaking to Harry. Maybe you were just slightly weary from the sun, or maybe you actually felt nervous when he looked you in the eye. And, from that moment, nothing between you and Harry ever felt the same. Not really.

It was short-lived. When you were sat on the kitchen counter in the early hours of the morning, taking slow sips of a glass of water. You’d been watching the moon dance across ripples in the water of the sea you were staying beside. “Can’t sleep?” a voice came from the doorway.

It was Harry. He walked into the kitchen, leaning against the island opposite you. You shrugged, “Just thirsty. You?”

“I’ve been watching romcoms all night,” he said, chuckling quietly.

You smiled, “Well, you know what they say: people do travel to Jamaica to watch romcoms all night. Something about the atmosphere, I reckon.”

“Of course,” he nodded, grinning. “Had to embrace traditions, didn’t I?”

You watched as he poured himself a glass of orange juice, sitting down at the island. The silence between the two of you was comforting but perhaps the most excruciating thing you’d ever felt. It was undeniable that there was tension between the two of you. “Right,” you said, sliding off the counter, placing your glass in the sink, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Harry was very prepared to smile and nod and watch you leave as you made your way up to the bedroom you’d claimed as your own. However, he spoke before he even had the chance to think, “Y/N… do you… do you want to watch a romcom?”

You turned back to look at him, “Sure.”

So, you sat in his room, watching some cheesy romcom. It had been fine. It had all been fine. You’d told yourself it had been fine. That was until the characters on the television screen made the development in their relationship to which they became something more than friends. “See,” you sighed, your eyes trained on the screen, “it never happens like that.”

“It could,” he replied quietly.

You shrugged, “But has it ever happened to you?”

“Well, not like that. But it could still happen to me,” he said.

“Maybe,” you smiled. “Still hope for you yet, Harold.”

“Go on then,” he grinned. “Why are you such a romcom Grinch?”

“Until I feel the same way Rachel McAdams does when someone kisses me, I will continue to dislike these movies,” you said.

And when he kissed you, asking how you felt, you’d shrugged. Though, your actions contradicted your small smile before you leaned forward and kissed him again. It was risky and you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking. But perhaps that was the most delicious part: you weren’t thinking at all. Sarah and Mitch were in the next room over and you and Harry were kissing.

From then on, it had been secret quickies in the kitchen and deliberate stares in the garden. It was the best time of your life. The secrecy of it all, the hiding away from the rest of the world. You often wondered if Harry liked it because it was his own. This arrangement he had with you, it wasn’t anybody else’s. Nobody else could have it because it was kept out of the eyes of your friends and most definitely those of the media.

“I need to go,” you whispered, your eyes landing on the clock on the wall. You were meeting your sister for breakfast and, if you didn’t drag yourself out of bed soon, you were going to be late.

“Don’t go,” Harry said quietly, running his fingers up and down your arm. “You could stay for breakfast?”

“I can’t, I’m going to meet my sister soon for breakfast,” you replied.

“Orange juice?” he said, pouting.

You sighed, smiling, “Fine, I’ll stay for orange juice.”

You shrugged, “You don’t have to thank me.”

He watched as you clambered out of his bed, slipping into your clothes from the night before. He reluctantly joined you, the two of you finally venturing through to the kitchen. A moment of almost deja vu as you sat at his counter as he poured out a glass of orange juice. You noticed his smile - he must have felt it too. Thanking him for the drink, you took a large gulp, the citrusy liquid livening you up a bit.

The silence, unlike the night in Jamaica, felt extraordinarily domestic. There was no excruciation to it this time. It was only when Harry opened his mouth that there was a shift in the once perfectly serene atmosphere, “Are we gonna do this forever?”

“What?” you said. “Are we gonna fuck forever?”

He nodded, staring at you, waiting for you to say something. But you weren’t entirely sure what to say. So, you choked out, “If you want to call this thing quits, I’m okay with that.”

“No, no, no,” he shook his head quickly. “I was thinking of more of an… upgrade?”

“An upgrade? I’m not a phone,” you scoffed, grinning.

He chuckled, “Like… like a premium package?”

You snorted, “A premium package?”

“Yeah, you know, the sex with a couple of extra benefits,” he said.

“What are these extra benefits?” you asked, finishing your orange juice.

“Dates… cuddles… and… more sex?” he replied.

You laughed, grabbing your jacket from the counter. He followed you as you walked towards his front door. “Does the friends with benefits premium package come with a special name?” you asked, turning back to look at him.

“I like to call it ‘girlfriend’,” he said.

There it was. There it was. You’d been waiting to hear him say it and there it was. “Are you, Harry Styles, asking me to be your girlfriend?” you asked, grinning.

“Perhaps I am,” he said, shrugging. “Depends what your answer is.”

“Well, ask me and you’ll find out.”

“Do you, Y/N, want the friends with benefits premium package, ‘girlfriend’?”

Though your answer may have been nonchalant, it didn’t match the way you felt inside. Oh, inside you were screaming. You’d been waiting for this since that night in Jamaica, watching a romcom with Harry in his bed. Everything had built up to this. “Yeah, fuck it, go on,” you replied.

He smiled, his eyes exploring your face. As if it had changed in your sudden shift in relationship. He kissed you. You kissed him back. And, if you didn’t have breakfast with your sister, you were sure you’d never leave his side. “Feel like Rachel McAdams yet?” he grinned, pulling away.

#harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry x you #harry imagines #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shots #harry one shots #harry styles one shot #harry one shot

[shihalyfie]

Regarding Konaka’s influence on Tamers (or how much he actually didn’t have)

(Rest assured that if you’ve had a conversation with me recently about this issue, I’m not vaguing you; this conversation has come up a lot in the last few weeks, especially in my private chats, so this is just me deciding that I should write something about this for once since it’s been weighing on my head lately.)

I think, right now, with what happened regarding the DigiFes debacle, a lot of people are having complicated feelings about how to feel about Tamers, and this is completely understandable. I think there are also some things that may be inevitably unavoidable, such as starting to second-guess certain nuances in the series and what they might lead to. All of that is perfectly reasonable, and in the end, it’s going to be up to everyone to decide how they feel.

In light of this, a lot of people have been bringing up the fact that, while Konaka was the head writer, he was by no means the only person working on it. This is very much true, but I’d like to add something else to the equation: this is an issue that goes much deeper than the usual claiming death of the author for the sake of sanity. The full picture is that Konaka has always had much less influence on the series than the fanbase tends to attribute to him. Official statements have been very clear as to not attribute the entire series to him, and, among all the other controversial statements he’s made, Konaka himself has at least been very active about crediting the other staff members as far as their influence on the series! The idea that he was the only person who ever did anything substantial for Tamers is something I’ve been warning against since long before any of this happened (if you want proof, I have a post from April with this sentiment in it), and right now we just happen to be seeing what’s basically the worst possible outcome of the fanbase constantly worshipping him like the only real creative heart behind the series to borderline cult-like levels...when that’s never been true, and has resulted in unfairly taking credit away from people who deserved it.

I’ll go into detail below, and I hope this can help people understand the situation better and sort out how they feel about it.

Note that I make references to his infamous blog in this post, which I’m deliberately refraining from directly linking for obvious reasons, but all of the information is still there, so it should be verifiable if you decide to look for it yourself.

Personally, I’ve always found it really bizarre how there’s been this obsession with portraying Konaka as some kind of auteur whom the entirety of Tamers depended on. I’m not saying this out of spite towards him, because, again, even he himself was very insistent on disclaiming credit for things he wasn’t actually responsible for (he was quite humble in this respect, actually). Not to mention that I think it’s a mistake in general to constantly pin a single person in a multi-person production as the sole heart behind it, and the Digimon fanbase has historically had this strange double standard behind it when it comes to uplifting him as the only heart behind Tamers when nobody says that about any of the head writers for...anything else. (How many times has Nishizono’s name ever popped up when talking about Adventure? People are usually more obsessed with talking about Kakudou or Seki.) Konaka’s work is certainly distinctive, but Tamers had a lot more going on besides just that.

In fact, based on his own statements on the matter and all of the other official information we’ve gotten about Tamers production, while you can’t really quantify such things, it’s generally been estimated that Konaka was responsible for something like only a fourth of the series. Which is an incredibly low amount compared to what the fanbase would have told you before all of this happened, because of this fixation that he must be the genius mastermind behind the whole series. Not only that, this “brilliant auteur” image of him was so inflated that people were attributing way more of 02 to him than he deserved; 02 episode 13 was the only thing he contributed to the series and he was specifically brought on as a “guest writer”, and the overall plot of the episode was determined by the rest of the production staff and not him -- but ask the fanbase and they’ll tell you stories about how he invented some grand planned arc for 02 that got cancelled, or even that Tamers exists because of a “writer revolt” from him and other writers not being allowed to do what they wanted. (You know, as much as I understand 02′s a controversial series, it would be really nice if people didn’t make up completely baseless stories like this just to scapegoat it...)

I honestly cannot emphasize enough how much of the problem we’re in right now has been horribly enabled by the weird pedestal the fanbase has been putting him on. This is to the point where there’s even been a double standard where some of the more unpopular/criticized elements of Tamers must not have been the fault of a brilliant writer like him, and in fact was forced on him by the executives (this excuse had always been brought up anytime someone doesn’t like something about Tamers, just to make sure the image of him as a perfect writer was maintained). Turns out, as per his own admission on the infamous blog, while he wasn’t the one who initially had the idea of putting Ryou in, the part that rubbed the fanbase the wrong way -- that he came in as an accomplished senior who was better than everyone and played up by everyone in the cast -- was unabashedly his idea (he apparently was enamored with the idea of having someone like Tuttle from the movie Brazil). Again, this is a weird scenario where even Konaka himself has been more humble about this issue than the fanbase’s perception of him; he fully admitted whenever he had trouble writing certain parts. For instance, he doesn’t actually like writing about alternate worlds, felt they were out of his comfort zone, and only wrote in the Digital World because the franchise needs one; he’d stated that if he’d had his way, the Digital World arc wouldn’t have come in as early as it did, which might be a pretty shocking statement for a Digimon fan to hear.

If you want even more specifics, here are some extremely major parts of the series that Konaka was not actually the one behind:

The character backgrounds. Konaka stated on his blog that he wasn’t interested in going too much into character backstories because he felt it was too plot-limiting to say that a character is the way they are thanks to something in their past or background (basically, he cares more about plot than character for the most part), and that he’s also not into worldbuilding. Certain things like Ruki going to a girls’ school were supplied by Seki, who infamously loves worldbuilding, family backgrounds, and character settings.

Certain nuances of Ruki’s character, especially the part where she’s pigeonholed into uncomfortable places due to being a girl, were informed by Yoshimura Genki, writer from Adventure and one of the head writers of 02 (who eventually would go on to create an entire career out of feminist cinema).

According to the posts on his blog, Impmon’s character arc didn’t have much input from Konaka himself and was largely written in by Maekawa Atsushi (also a writer from Adventure and one of the head writers of 02).

The whole concept of Yamaki being redeemable in the first place was something Konaka didn’t originally plan for; he’d initially intended to make him a straightforward antagonist, but, of all things, his Christmas song, combined with the input of the other writers (especially Maekawa) humanizing him, led to the development where Yamaki eventually changed sides and became sympathetic. (This makes Konaka’s recent stunt revolving around Yamaki a bit painfully ironic.)

The director, Kaizawa Yukio, was deliberately picked because he didn’t have experience on the prior series, for the sake of changing things up, and he spent Tamers as a period of studying what Digimon should be like. Based on what he’s hinted, it seems Konaka's writing style and choices were able to have as much influence as they did because Kaizawa approved of them -- that is to say, Konaka’s detailed imagery and descriptions were extensive enough that Kaizawa could go “sure, let’s go with that.” But in the end, nothing Konaka did would have gone through unless Kaizawa and Seki (among many others) didn’t also approve of it or provide input. Moreover, Kakudou Hiroyuki (director of Adventure and 02) has also been stated many times to have been a valuable consultant on invoking Digimon so that the new staff could understand what to aim for and how to get the right feel (and also assisted with providing stuff for the mythos, such as the Devas). Nevertheless, Kaizawa also seems to have had his own strong opinions and input on the story; he especially seems to get passionate when it comes to the topic of making the story something the kids watching it could relate to and imagine. (He would eventually go on to direct Frontier and Hunters, along with several episodes of the Adventure: reboot.)

So in other words, looking at this, a lot of these things that people emotionally connected to and loved about Tamers are things that literally were not his personal creation, and were largely contributed by the other writers! Of course, Konaka’s “creator thumbprint” is very obvious -- he was the head writer, after all -- and all of this had to go through his own vetting to make sure he personally liked it as well -- but nevertheless, you can see that this very much was a collaborative effort from head to toe, with him being very open about this fact himself. Insisting on making sure that this fact is well-known isn’t just a coping mechanism to try and remove his presence in the series, but rather a desire to get people to seriously stop giving him credit that really should be going to others (especially since, again, even he himself was very diligent about assigning that credit).

In the end, I’ll leave you with another thing to keep in mind: Konaka doesn’t get paid anymore for Tamers work (unless they make something new like the DigiFes thing), so continuing to buy Tamers merch and supporting the series through fanart and such will probably end up going more towards the Digimon IP as a whole. Basically, if we’re just talking about Tamers specifically, what degree this is going to matter is only really relevant to the content in the original series, which is now twenty years old and remains unchanged. By Konaka’s own admission, he wasn’t into all of these conspiracy theories until 2010 at the earliest, so while it’s understandable to be a bit wary about the themes in Tamers having traces of the base sentiment, the original series itself does not seem to be an outlet for alt-right propaganda, and it’s probably forcing it a bit much to read into it that way. Konaka’s also repeatedly insisted that all of his attempts at a Tamers sequel have been rejected and that he’s been doing increasingly strange swerves to get around members of the original cast not entirely being available, and the Japanese audience has turned out to not be very fond of the contents of the 2018 drama CD and the stage reading for reasons entirely separate from the politics, so it’s also unlikely we’ll be getting a Tamers sequel from him or something in the near future.

So -- at least for the time being -- what’s done with him is done, and the remaining question is how all of us feel about Tamers. I think everyone will have differing feelings on it, and that’s perfectly understandable. Personally, given everything I just said above, I’m going to continue treating it as a series very important to me, and one that many people (including, as it seems, a very different Konaka from twenty years ago) worked on with a lot of effort and love, although you may see me getting a bit more willing to be critical about the series and its themes thanks to my concerns about some of the sentiments in it and what they imply. I also completely understand that there are probably people whose associations are going to be much more hurt and who will have a much harder time seeing the series the same way ever again, and I think that’s reasonable as well. But at the very least, going forward, I hope all of us can understand the depth of this situation, give credit where it’s due, and not force credit where it’s not due.

#digimon #digimon tamers

[xxsmokeyy]

Levi x Reader (F) It’s The Tea

genre: fluff, canon divergence — coffee shop setting

summary: a misplaced table and a pair of hands that had a knack for good tea; you wonder what brought Humanity’s Strongest to your shop.

wc: 6,262

part II

“I’ll have one flat white,” a customer says as she picks money from her coin purse. You give her a smile after receiving her payment, the exact amount saving you the task of calculating change.

“Coming right up.” And you make your way to the coffee beans to make the blend she ordered. She watches in patience as you skillfully maneuver around the counter, getting everything done along the process. You incline the porcelain a little to make for the finishing art, steamed milk piercing through the coffee and creating a signature shape. In no time, you hand her the drink on top of a saucer.

She silently nods as brief thanks, and as soon as she turns her back to you, you dart your eyes on a table of one by the far right windowpane. You carefully spectate her and what direction she’s going. She’s going to the table!

The make-do suspense keeps you on your toes as you look at her intently, breath slightly hitching, waiting for her to sit on the lone chair. The woman navigates across the room, heading straight for your wishful desires. Your hands fly to your mouth in shock, witnessing the life-changing moment unravel before your eyes. No way. She really is.

The cup of coffee on her left hand, she uses her right to move the chair to take a seat. But just when she’s about to pull it back, someone calls her from another table, waving at her excitedly.

You stand upright and alert while your scrutinizing gaze follow her movements. She looks at where the voice is coming from, and almost immediately, her face brightens upon seeing who. Her right hand lets go of the wooden furniture and proceeds to where the caller sits. You look at her destination and find three people on a table of four. It doesn’t take long before she takes the free seat and starts chatting with them.

Your body slumps back with a disappointed sigh. Looks like no one’s sitting there yet again.

It’s the closest call you’ve ever had after years of this shop’s existence. Why no one chooses to sit there is beyond you. Either your customers are not alone, or they are, but only to take out their orders. Actually, even if they’re alone, they’d take the table for two instead. Do they not want to look lonely that bad? You groan in annoyance.

The table consists of a small, circular table and a single chair by the window. In your mightiest opinion, it’s the perfect place to just sit down, enjoy a cup of hot coffee, and read a book. But nobody’s ever done that through the passing years, and you can only witness the table being neglected by people.

It irks you a little. Could there have been another way to maximize the space that stemmed from unproportional construction? Maybe it really is time to remove those. Maybe it’s not really a big deal.

You’ve been contemplating too many times replacing it with a plant vase or a decorative ornament to take up the space since it’s of no use anyway. But something just tells you you shouldn’t. Besides, just thinking thinking about feels costly.

The rest of the day goes by quickly, and before you know it, you’ve opened the store again, serving customers after customers. This time, you never gave the table another glance. Surprisingly enough, you spent the whole night debating with yourself on what decoration you should fill the space with. A nice bookshelf would’ve been good, but you decided to go with a monstera plant to make use of the window right by it. Not until your day off, though, which is still on Sunday.

Having consecutively served around six customers and cleaned used tables, you sit and take a breather, resting your eyes by reading a book to let a couple minutes go by.

You slowly get sucked into the story, the marvelous art of prose bringing you into the plot’s little universe. The way the writer used the most fitting descriptive words possible astounds you, making a smile of enjoyment involuntarily creep up your lips. Somehow, you think writing is similar to making coffee, mixing different elements to create the perfect blend, the sole goal of making an exquisite taste that will leave people aching for more? Oh, and they both smell good, books and coffee. A chuckle leaves your lips.

Just when you’re deep in thought, things starting to stir up in the narration, someone speaks in front of you.

“One black tea,” a stern voice curtly orders, interrupting your peace. Harshly brought back to reality, you rise to your feet to resume to work. First tea of the day, huh?

Sure, your shop is known for its good coffee, but your tea can put up for a competition, too. It’s just that these days, coffee is more on the popular side, since tea can be made in almost any household now.

You close your book to attend to the customer, but not without leaving a bookmark on the current page. When you look at him, you almost freeze in your tracks. Well if it isn’t Humanity’s Strongest himself!

A pair of dazing stale eyes bore into your own with an unreadable expression and you compose yourself. Crap, you must have been caught giggling to yourself. You feel heat speedily cover your cheeks, turning you to a blushing mess. How shameful.

“Pardon me,” you excuse, clearing your throat before telling him the price. He wordlessly fishes for his wallet and pays. He does find you a bit weird, laughing at nothing, but pays it no more mind. He’s supposed to be on leisure, not meddling with some brat’s uncanny actions.

As you turn your back to make his beverage, you squint your eyes in loss of face. It really is the Captain Levi, and you probably looked like a creep in his eyes. Now what will become of your shop’s repute?

You shove the thought to the back of your head and start working. The ravenhead watches back as you work your hands into making a, hopefully, good blend. Your heart is beating wildly inside your chest like it’s about to jump off your rib cage, but you try to ignore it. The thought of a widely known persona such as him inside your very shop is crazy. To what do you even owe this pleasure?

Oh well, you’ll just pour your heart into making his tea, that way you might erase his ridiculous impression of you in his head. Hey! What’s so bad about giggling while reading? your subconscious tries to defend while you strain the boiled tea leaves into a clean china. The earthly smell hits your nose, making you want one, too.

You smile as you hand over the teacup. “Thank you for your service,” you add, even going as far as bowing. The moment the phrase escapes your lips, you regret it right away. Chills shoot up your spine. It sounds so awkward and unnecessary, but should you just treat the Captain like any other people knowing he’s done so much for your country?

Your cheeks flush into a faint, pink color. Thankfully, you’re slightly angled downwards, he might not see. Levi only eyes you for a second before nodding and taking the cup of tea in his hands, his calloused fingers grazing your hands fleetingly.

When you hear his footsteps fade, you rise and rub a palm against your face. You hesitantly take a glance toward the Captain, and shock takes over your whole system. To be totally honest, you never thought you’d see the day someone would sit on that table.

He looks perfectly placed on the table, like it’s reserved a long time just for him. He’s in civillian clothes, probably to not attract a lot of people. The sunlight gives his face a pretty sheen, the air from the window blowing lightly on his dark fringes. Your heart continues to skip several beats for no clear reason. Maybe that is the reason why your instincts keep telling you to not replace it.

Meanwhile, Levi sips on the freshly brewed tea, the strong flavor staining on his tongue just right. As he occupies his mind somehwere else, the taste hits better. Everything feels evenly distributed, the base smooth and pleasant, the amount of water not brimming. The temperature isn’t so bad as well.

Then and there, he guesses you source fine leaves from the innermost walls, which is a luxury at this point, not to mention your non-overpriced charge.

Not bad, he thinks.

You’re dumbstruck as you sit back in awe. You weren’t able to decipher what he’s thinking, but you know for sure he doesn’t hate it from seeing that he emptied the whole thing and left a generous tip.

You grab your tray and proceed to cleaning up the table he previously seated on, the whole decision of shopping for a plant on Sunday going down the drain.

—

It’s been a whole month since the Captain’s visit, and you think of the once in a lifetime moment often, and at times randomly. You sure as heck won’t be removing the table now that something has happened.

“Thank you,” you say as you hand the cup of coffee, serving the last one for the queue. It’s a late, cloudy afternoon, looking like it’s about to shower, and the shop is pretty dull. Well, that only means you can read more.

“Is this the shop they say sells well?” you hear someone from the ordering area. “Yeah, you go ahead,” they converse. You’re making coffee for yourself at the moment and you can’t peer to look at whose voice it is.

“What? You do it!”

“Just go! We don’t have time!”

“What the fuck? You’re the one holding the knife, aren’t you?!” a man shouts in a whisper. You can’t hear crystal clear due to being far into the counter, although you know they must be disturbing the atmosphere.

Vexed by their rowdiness, you turn around and stop making the blend. You walk to the front of the counter, “Excuse me, please lower your—”

“Give me all your money, lady. Let’s transact in peace so nobody gets hurt,” the man grabs your collar, knife pointed straight into your neck. Another man of his companion moves to the side to cover their actions. You don’t feel the sharp edge prick your skin due to intense panic.

You look around frantically, worried if there are other people harmed. To your relief, they seem to not notice anything, if you can even call that relieving. Now there must be no saving you.

“It’s alright, we won’t bring someone else into this, just do what we ask,” the other guy says, wide, haunting eyes looking straight into you. You feel cold sweat drip from your forehead.

“Now hand us what you got.”

On the other hand, Levi finishes with his errands around the capital and stumbles within your shop’s vicinity. Walking mindlessly, he checks the skies to tell the time, but sees the dark clouds instead. It seems it’s about to pour.

He’s already in front of your shop, but the threatening rain will be bigger trouble, he might get stranded if he stops by. Plus, he probably didn’t bring enough money, so he’s got no choice but head back now.

Just when he’s about to leave, his peripheral vision miraculously catches sight of your horrified expression through the window, putting him to an abrupt halt. He turns to see better, and finds two men roughing you up while trying to hide the commotion.

He clicks his tongue and spins to turn away. It’s not his business anymore, it’s for the Military Police to deal with. They might be loan sharks for all he knows, and you’d be held entirely accountable for that.

Unable to take the view of the knife pointed to your neck out of his head, he sighs defeatedly and eventually discovers himself inside the store, else it’d slowly eat at his conscience.

“Oi, what’s going on here?” he questions with a firm voice, turning heads his way.

“It’s Captain Levi from the Survey Corps!”

“What a lucky day!”

People stir up upon seeing the Captain to which he only ignores, full attention on you and the two criminals.

The robber without a weapon quickly turns around to check, shaking in fear. As he makes terrifying eye contact with the Captain, he makes haste for the door in desperate hopes of escaping, but to no avail. Levi grabs the back of the poor guy’s head and slams it against an empty table, putting him to deep sleep. Then turning to your armed assaulter, Levi closes in with big steps and takes the knife down before swinging the side of his hand, striking a nerve on the man’s neck to knock him out.

Levi perceives they’re complete amateurs and wonders why they even steal. Atleast one of them tried to run, he thinks as he looks down on the passed out crooks.

You’re not exactly sure if your heart calmed down or speeded up even more—maybe both, but you feel safe and more at ease.

Tying the last knot, he stands from his kneeled form and dusts his hands off to rid himself of the filth.

You only watch silently, mind clouded in confusion of what to do. Captain Levi came just in time and saved you and your shop of possible bankruptcy. Say, it could have been the worst timing considering you haven’t cleared your cash box for weeks now. You’re reminded of how much you owe the Captain.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be out cold for a while, just call the MP’s on them,” Levi assures before taking a glance at you and fails to understand your expression, your face looks like it’s leaking shit in his opinion.

You look at the two robbers dozing off tied together by the help of Levi and your spare rope before giving your savior another bow. “Thank you so much!” you exclaim and raise your head to meet his fierce gaze.

“And sorry for the trouble, people around here can get belligerent, especially to us business owners,” you add.

He observes you from head to toe, eyes particularly lingering on your neck, and you blush in embarrassment, feeling his hot stare.

“Is there—?”

He takes something from his pocket and offers you a handkerchief which you cluelessly accept. You later on realize what it’s for, finally feeling a sting on your neck. You wipe the bleeding area and see trails of crimson on your apron as well.

With no reason to stay any longer, Levi steers to leave, but is just in time to witness the rain pour down heavily, big droplets washing against the windows. He sighs, it’s just as he guessed.

You, on contrast, get an idea to show your gratitude, feeling a physical candle light up in your brain. “Captain Levi, please stay and let the rain pass while I brew you some coffee,” you negotiate with strong willed eyes, fixed on returning him a favor. It’s the least you could do from within your limited skills, and you’d like it if he’d accept. Actually, you won’t accept if he rejects, fully wanting to pay him back atleast a tad.

He looks back at you, slightly surprised. You seem like a more persistent person now rather than an easily flustered mess. Could he be so insensitive as to decline your generous offer after seeing your firm resolve? But more importantly, coffee? Could he be so thick-skinned as to ask for something else other than that?

When he stays quiet, you decide to go ahead and make him a drink from one of your premium coffee beans, but you’re put to a stop as he speaks.

“I’d prefer tea.”

Oh, right. He did ask for black tea a month back, didn’t he? You give him a smile and a thumbs up of approval before turning your back to make his tea.

Levi massages his temples and takes a seat, eyeing the immobilized crooks and the outside, thinking what he got himself into. It won’t be so bad to stay for a while and let the rain ease down, right?

You wait for the water to boil before dropping a bunch of mint leaves, then waiting for it to simmer. You prepare a porcelain cup and saucer and pour in the hot liquid, adding honey for a natural sweetener. You mix in a couple droplets of lemon to balance the flavor and you’re good to go.

You set the tea on his chosen table of two, giving the free seat a momentary glimpse. You wonder how it would feel like to have a proper conversation with Captain Levi, only to quickly dismiss the thought of joining him as you hear someone call you from the counter. Thankfully, people are back to minding their business and don’t bother the Captain anymore. You excuse yourself and return to work, still a couple hours away from closing time.

Levi sits back and enjoys the tea you made, soon learning it’s a fresh peppermint tea. Though it’s only the second time he’s having your brew, he doesn’t know why he already has high expectations. The choice of blend is perfect for a rainy day, and it’s exactly what he would have made when he returned back to the headquarters. You don’t really look like someone who prefers tea, but he’s impressed nevertheless.

He sips on the cup, letting the weather pass and the taste line his tongue. A variety of things occupy his mind involuntarily and before he knows it, the rain has calmed down into a shower.

He stands to leave but suddenly notices an umbrella left on his table. When did that get there? He takes a glimpse at you and finds you looking back at him with curious, alert eyes like that of a cat, immediately averting your gaze and resuming to pick up the dirtied tableware onto your tray.

Levi confirms it’s from you, and it’s another one of your acts of gratitude. He’s left with no choice and grabs it, wraps his slender fingers around the handle, and takes his leave.

Satisfied, you sigh in relief as you watch his back drift into the darkness. You look at the handkerchief in the pocket of your apron, smiling. Despite rumors of him being an unrelenting leader and a ruthless thug that stretched way back, the Captain is a kind man, isn’t he? If there really is such thing as coincidence, you’d like to consider yourself lucky for having experienced it.

—

About two more weeks pass when Levi finds himself hooked into the sweet aroma of the tea you make, the ambience of your shop’s environment, and something else he can’t put a name on. In actuality, he may or may not be using your umbrella as an excuse to go to your store right now.

He takes a glance at his hand holding the same umbrella. He briefly questions himself what he’s doing but pushes the thought aside with the use of his well thought of excuse. True enough, he can’t just go around using other people’s possession, can he?

He begins to sense the growing familiarity of your shop as he closes in. The choice of location being just at the mouth of the city, the distinct line between rural and urban is visibly emphasized.

As Levi enters through the saloon door, his eyes almost immediately find your form, leisurely reading while leaning on the counter, back turned against the entrance, your hair up in a braided bun which he finds neat. He clicks his tongue as he approaches to order.

“It’s easier to mug you that way,” he says and you jolt in surprise. Recognizing the stone cold voice, you spin to see the Captain in front of you, inside your very shop once again. This is no coincidence anymore!

“Captain Levi!” you greet with a beam, utterly delighted to see him. “Pleasant afternoon, what can I get you?” you ask and look him straight in the face. He’s in casual clothes, so you guess it’s another one of his day off’s. His sombre eyes of a unique bluish grey color take on your gaze fiercely. It’s true that the eyes convey one’s entire personality, as you feel his menace even though he doesn’t intend to display it.

“Black tea,” he says without a hitch, giving you the exact amount of money, and you proceed to your working space. Boiling of water, straining of tea leaves, pouring it into clean china; as you hand it to him, they start to resemble a routine.

He goes ahead and takes the corner table, and you couldn’t be any happier, thinking he seems to like the spot, choosing it among every other free seats. Levi takes a sip, and enjoys it with no wonder. You didn’t fail to make an exquisite blend.

A couple moments later, he’s still there. While everyone else chitchats with their company, he sits in silence with his beverage, ocassionally looking at the sky freely laid out by the window. He’s never really one to catch up with the bulletin and read daily papers, he’d prefer books for that matter.

As you wipe with a rag the empty tabletop just beside him, you see him looking at the window, cup of tea in hand. He, however, feels your stare, and wordlessly slides an umbrella on the table without batting you an eye. You recognize it as yours and take a step towards him.

“You better not have arrived home drenched that night,” he says. It’s only until he returned to the headquarters that he had realized you must have given him your only umbrella.

A chuckle leaves your mouth, aren’t you concerned. “I might have.” He clicks his tongue.

You grab it in your hands and follow his gaze, soon looking vacantly at the view as well. “You can see the skies from there, right?” you ask, earning a low hum in response.

“I wonder how far they stretch from outside on… Some say they’re boundless,” the words unconsciously slip from your mouth as you watch the clouds move. Something about relatively slow afternoons just hypnotize you to no end.

Levi shifts his gaze to your figure upon hearing a frame of your mind, finding a glimmer of ambition in the mesmerizing pools of your eyes. He can hear your train of thoughts out loud, while you wonder if you could ever get to experience the outside world. He remembers a couple friends thinking the same thing way back, and he realizes, it’s people like you that he hates to see drift away, one of those whom he feels he has to protect, though it’s not like you know each other to great extent.

He brings his cup to his lips and frankly speaks, “It’s not pretty out there.”

His words interrupt you from your daze, making you look at him. You notice he grips the teacup oddly, holding it around the mouth instead of its handle. You heave out a shallow sigh. “Figured you’d say that,” you say with a sad smile. It’s undeniable, coming from him.

You fish something from the pocket of your apron and leave it on his table, then making your way back to the counter. A seemingly little exchange of borrowed objects. He eyes his cleaned dry handkerchief and leaves a comment before you can stray farther, “It does seem endless.”

The corners of your lips upturn into a grateful smile. He really is soft. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t know exactly what you’re thanking him for.

—

Time and time passed, and he always comes every week without fail. Sometimes, when days are light, he even visits twice a week. You could say you have developed quite a relationship with the Captain, though not something that can be considered close to sentimental. The distance is still present, but you’d have small talks here and there, sometimes you’d lend him your books just so he doesn’t bore himself to death, or maybe so he’d stay a little longer.

You gradually learn to read his moods through the language of his orders. You find that he’s more of a tea lover based solely from the fact that he never once asked for coffee. Black tea is his regular, Oolong tea is when something probably turns out good or successful, since the price a little higher and you guess it’s his little way of celebrating, Chamomile tea when something is roughly off, you figure as he never speaks excessively when he orders it.

You never end up joining him, though. Of course, he always takes the table of one, there isn’t room for another.

“The usual,” Levi briefly says and hands you the exact charge. Never faltering, you smile and continue to make black tea for the man. “You still haven’t hired a helper,” he points out and you hum in agreement.

“I can manage by myself,” you inform as you stir his tea. You’ve managed years by your own, what use is there for an extra hand? Besides, it’s not like your shop gets hoarded by huge amounts of people. Coffee shops attract a moderate number, and you’re fine with that.

You slide the finished drink to Levi and he accepts, heading to his own little corner. Ever since he first came, you labeled the corner seat as his own, and you never thought of removing it again. He doesn’t seem like a very social person, like he’s a man of few words if talking is unnecessary. You always wonder how it must feel to have a conversation with such a persona; must be novel and inspiriting. Problem is, you don’t have the guts to initiate it. You don’t want to be overlooked as a fangirl of the sort. If possible, you want to converse casually.

It’s the looming distance between a coffee shop owner and a country’s renowned soldier that obstructs you from feeling on level as him.

Still, you don’t know why you’re currently grabbing a book from one of your drawers and why you’re currently making your way toward him, tray still in hand to clean afterwards as an excuse.

“Fancy a book?” you offer as you set one of your favorite titles on his table. He darts his eye on it and studies the cover for a brief moment, seeing if it’s up to his standards. It doesn’t really pique his interest, but you made an effort, and it’d be of great companion with the tea.

Levi accepts the book in his hands and starts reading, later learning about the main character’s introduction. “You have a lot of books,” he comments out of observation. This isn’t the first time you offered him one, nor is it just the second. He’s come to a conclusion that you have a liking for it.

You hum in agreement. “I like collecting them, but they’re still not enough to fill a shelf, though. I’m thinking about putting one here,” you say, already envisioning where to place it.

He almost immediately thought of the Headquarters’ library. A lot of books there just get covered in dust, unmoved. Cadets these days don’t take reading as hobby. He considers the idea of bringing some for your shop to make use of it. “I can hand you some,” he says, flipping the page.

Your eyes widen in an equal mix of delight and surprise. He’d go that far? For what? Is the Captain really like this? “Really? From where?” you try to hide the excitement in your voice, but it doesn’t escape his ears. Well isn’t that great? An upgrade for your shop and a chance to see him again. Not that he’s not showing himself enough.

“Scouts’ library,” he says, flipping another page, and you’re deep in thought. Is that allowed? Do I have to pay?

Just a couple of pages in, he seems partially engrossed. The protagonist is a traveller who encounters metaphorical life obstacles and is most likely to find self-discovery through it, that’s as much as he knows.

He notices you still haven’t left and bats you an eye. You look troubled and euphoric at the same time, he couldn’t understand entirely what you’re thinking but he has a clue. “It’s free. Some of it are old anyway,” he informs, which seems to bring your face relief. So his hunch turns out to be right, you were thinking of the burden.

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking that!” you deny right away, waving your hand dismissively, cheeks blushing. You definitely were.

He stays quiet, and you feel ashamed. Does he think you’re a cheapskate? Or thick-faced? Hey, he’s also reading, you must be a distraction. Oh god, how can you make acquaintances with him now?

You aim to leave and give him his space, afraid that you might be bugging him for too long now, but Levi suddenly speaks just in time.

“You have an allurement for things about the outside,” he asserts in heed. When you don’t answer, he continues, “It’s not all rainbows out there, you know.” His perception of you still stands as he’s continuously reminded by you of people who go through great measures to reach their dreams, and those he lost due to wanting to seek for more.

You don’t know if it’s a positive connotation or a negative but he doesn’t sound so enthusiastic. Your grip on the tray tightens. The way he puts it… is he trying to make you drop your interest?

“I do know that. I just,” you pause, contemplating what to say. You’re stuck with I just want to dream, is it so bad? or I just want to experience the forbidden, I’m sick of being stuck in this birdcage, or an impulsive one: I just want to see, would you bring me outside?

Instead, you settle with “I wouldn’t know, I’m a mere shop owner. I don’t have the chance to sit and talk with someone who’s gone beyond the walls.” Like you, sir.

He studies you as you look back at him with firm eyes. Brat, you already live a life with fair peace. The resolve in your eyes didn’t waver, not one bit. He thinks, will you be content with knowing about the outside? Levi heaves out a sigh and closes the book before leisurely taking a sip on his tea.

“Maybe if you’d put another chair, we’ve been talking for months now,” he then says, an even amount of sarcasm in his tone, enough to not come off as rude.

Dumbfounded, you gawk at the Captain for a good five seconds, eyes slightly enlarged in surprise before laughing your head off, turning a couple heads your way for a fleeting second.

“What’s funny?” he quizzes, thin brows furrowed together, and you wave him off, wiping your euphoric tears away.

“Well, I didn’t know it’d be that simple, Captain!” you giggle, eyes genuinely happy and hearty. Just put a chair in? In all seriousness, he doesn’t exactly look approachable with those half lidded dark eyes and a permanent scowl now, does he? That’s one of the primary reasons you have trouble making advances to him.

Levi looks at you, taking in the undeniably beautiful sight before clicking his tongue and averting his gaze.

He’s absolutely certain he paid no attention to the way you tucked your hair behind your ear in a timid manner, the way your silky locks sway gracefully by the wind’s cool breeze, the way your delicate fingers held to the tray tightly as you try to compose yourself, and the way your glowing eyes looked back at him with a gentle gaze once you’ve finally calmed down. Yes, he likes to think he paid no extra mind to those details.

“Tch, did you think I’d bite you or something?” he deadpans, taking another sip on his cup.

“No, absolutely not!” You absolutely did. “I’ll put another chair some other day,” you say and wave him goodbye upon seeing a customer enter, returning to your working place.

He shakes his head lightly and finishes his cup, bringing the book with him as he takes his exit. The smile in your face never disappeared throughout the day, chest booming in an unrelenting speed.

Sunday comes, and you decide to do a general cleaning. You also buy a small shelf from the nearest furniture shop and have it delivered, filling it with some of your books. You squeeze in a chair to the corner by adjusting the other tables’ distances, and you can only laugh at yourself for not thinking of this long ago. You think, why not just sit on a table of two? but figure maybe the Captain’s already grown fond to the spot.

You feel like a schoolgirl as you mindlessly prepare things to talk about and questions to ask. How much does he know? Are titans really that big? Is the ocean real? What brought him to your shop?

But after that, you never saw him again. You think maybe he’ll arrive later or the next day, but more weeks pass, and not even his shadow appeared.

The slowest weeks achingly turn to months. You’ve been awfully attentive to the morning papers since then, looking for the slightest news about him, or their operations. You think it’s completely understandable, being perfectly aware that the Captain is a busy man. You know that visiting little tea shops isn’t actually a luxury that a guy like him affords, but it tugs at your heart a teeny bit, a small part of you involuntarily longing for him. Eitherway, you just wish for his and his people’s safety.

About five months have passed since you last saw him. Levi, on the other hand, has gotten busy those said times. Expeditionary Operations came after another, and he’s buried with work once they arrive back. His squad got promoted to Special Operations Squad, and intensive training was mandatory. The amount of free time he had back then was generous, and in those five months, he had no time to slack off.

But he never forgot you, every single time he drinks tea, he starts doubting his own blend as compared to yours.

“That’s the last of it,” Levi says as he hands over piles and piles of paperwork to the Commander. Erwin only grunts his response.

The ravenhead contemplates for a few moments before finally speaking, “I’ll be out. I’ll return before dinner,” he informs and turns his back, words more of a statement than asking for permission. The higher ranking officer only stares at him as his figure leaves the room. Fair enough, he’s done with his current tasks as a Captain and it’s his first day off in a while. He leaves him be.

Levi dismisses his tan jacket and fixes his cravat as he heads to the shop he favors. He ends up forgetting the books he’s supposed to give but pushes it aside. Oh well, just another excuse for him to visit.

Minutes of walking on foot, steps a little quicker than normal, and he finally arrives, the ambience hugging at his aura. It’s been long since he last set his foot here. He pushes at the saloon door, a ton of improvisations greeting his sight. The interior is now painted a beige color, the warmth going along with the wooden accents. You’ve added the shelf you said you wanted to put, a fair number of books in it. Lastly, his preferred corner seat already has two chairs opposite to each other.

Your back is turned against the door again, leaning on the counter as you occupied yourself with a book. He notices that your hair has gotten longer in a span of months. He shortly wonders what else has changed.

“Oi, the usual,” a familiar voice says, stoic tone resonating in your ears and you immediately feel your soul light up, like it’s been ages since you last felt so giddy. A chaotic mix of worry, excitement, longing, and bliss surges all throughout your body.

When you face the stale eyed man, your tingling heart shamelessly speeds up, a smile rising on your lips.

—

You wave him farewell as he leaves, and as he cuts eye contact, heat shoots up into your cheeks like crazy, which he totally misses out on.

One step out and Levi feels the presence of a stalker just around the alley. He gives her a bored look and starts walking away, which she then reveals herself and follows suit.

“So this is you and your secret lover’s getaway, huh?” Hange teases, obviously aiming to pry for more. Now what, she’s spying on him? This insane woman.

“Don’t be ridiculous, she has good tea,” Levi answers in nonchalance, staring right ahead the road. The woman makes silly noises at his response, similar to those sounds only she can produce when learning new discoveries about titans.

“Precisely,” the redhead says in satisfaction, nodding her head with her hands stroking her chin as if she got the answer she’s waiting for.

He shoves her actions aside, couldn’t care less about whatever conclusion she came up with. But no matter how much he keeps convincing his subconscious, it’s the tea that draw me in, he just can’t bring himself to believe in it.

#dont you just love soft levi #look at him being excited #soft levi best levi #i think ill do smut again #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levixreader #leviackermanxreader #levi imagine #levi scenario #levi fanfic #levi fanfiction #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman scenario #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi #levi ackerman #captain levi #levi x reader fluff #coffee shop au #aot #snk #imagine #scenario #attack on titan #reader insert #fanfiction #fluff #levi heichou

[slowpoke-fics]

Poison

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Pairing: Stefan x Reader

Request Summary: The reader has anger issues and is on verge of becoming an alcoholic as she feels helpless. Stefan helps her through to quit alcoholism and fight her fears and control her anger.

Warnings: alcoholism, self deprecation, Stefan being hungry, ooc Stefan and matt? idk I know I've missed some, as always read at your own risk

A/N: Yoooooo, welcome me back to the land of the matrix folks because I have crawled out of my pit of despair to bring you 1000 or so words that will hopefully give you a small rush of serotonin!

My friend, @yipee101, has been so patient and kind, they may have forgotten about this but I did not!! I hope you enjoy love.

Thank you pals for being patient with me.

Blessed be to all of you and sweet love to come your way <3

You slipped your sixth shot of whiskey down your throat, pouring another as you listened to Elena and Damon put their vamp skills to good use again. It just reminded you of what you couldn't be, and you had to admit it made you a little sick to be the only one who couldn’t defend herself. The only one so vulnerable, so mortal. Nobody would let you turn, everyone just wanted to keep you 'pure.' Your blood boiled just thinking about it. You decided you weren’t gonna just stand there and listen to them fuck, so you took your shot and slammed the glass down so hard it shattered. You headed for the door, not waiting around in the Salvatore house for Stefan when all you could hear was thudding and graphic moans.

As you stumbled to the door you went through your purse to find your car keys. Grabbing the handle and pulling the door open you were met with Stefans confused face. You walked right by him, “You know, if you were gonna be late we could’ve met at the Grill.” Stefan beat you to the car, taking the keys from you and putting you in the passenger seat. You pulled out your flask and began drinking, “Sorry I was late love, don’t you think you could slow down?” your blood boiled.

“Listen sweetheart, I know that you think you know what’s best, but the drinking isn’t a problem.” Stefan shakes his head as you take yet another swig, “Why do you keep drinking so much anyway?” You smiled big, clearly not wanting to talk about it, "After listening to Elena and Damon fuck for an hour, I think it's okay," raising the flask as if you’d raise your glass, spinning around to lay your head on his leg, you down a good mouthful of liquor, “So babe, how come you were late anyway?” Stefan sighed, “I got caught up hunting was a little hungrier than normal.” You gently reached your hand up and rubbed Stefan’s arm reassuringly, “It's okay to be hungry, I know it’s hard.”

You arrived at the grill, quickly pulling the bottle from your backseat and refilling your now empty flask. Stefan met you at your side of the car, allowing you to slide your arm perfectly with his for support. "It's lovely, ya know?" You mumbled as Stefan opened the door for you, "What is Y/N/N?" Sliding into the booth, "To be so drunk all the time that I don't have all the flies buzzing 'round me. All the little worries just whoosh, and everything is just so fun." Matty comes up to you and Stefan, taking your order and allowing you to order a rum and coke and a random meal.

After about ten minutes, Matty brings you another drink, you slammed it back, chugging and pounding the glass on the table a little too hard. Matty saluted you, bringing you another. You went back to back for a good half hour. Matty started to sit down another for you, but Stefan interjected, “I think she’s had enough tonight Matt.” Matt nodded, looking at your disheveled figure, head lying on the tables arms crossed under your head, ready to pass out. “‘M ready to go home,” you mumbled as you laid back in your booth, happily relaxing into the overly inviting cushions. Stefan lightly laughed, trying to cover the true concern he had for you.

Even though you guys had been dating nearly a year, this is how it always was. At first, he didn’t notice it, but the closer you two got the more you allowed him to see. You had finally explained to him that it was ‘your normal,’ that it had been since the night at the haunted house and Stefan almost died trying to save you from a vampire. Stefan looks at you for a minute, recalling the words he would never forget you said, “Nobody gave a shit back then so don’t start caring now.” Stefan picked you up out of the booth, carrying you to your car and softly closing the door. As he got back into the car, he noticed you trying to finish off your flask. He had decided in that moment, enough was enough. He took your flask from you, eliciting a heavy groan from you that didn’t last long because of your truly fucked state. The last thing you remember is laying your head on his leg as your normal position, his fingers running softly through your hair.

When you woke up the next morning you instantly ran to the bathroom, unlucky to be one of the times you had a hangover. You pounded on the floor next to your toilet, trying to alert Stefan. He was instantly next to you, handing you a cup, no doubt his special morning blend with enough of his blood to make all of this go away. He gently pulled your hair up and wrapped it in a bun, watching as you drank the contents of the cup, knowing it would be over soon. In truth, it was. After you finished chugging the cup you leaned back onto Stefan. “Good morning,” you laughed, “I hate for us to start it this way,” Stefan mumbled as he kissed your forehead, sliding his arms under yours and pulling you to your feet. You spun around to face him, “What the fuck?” you near shouted. “Why do you have to nit pick so fucking early?”

"It's not nit picking, Y/N" He tried to speak non-confrontational, "I am genuinely worried about you. This isn't healthy-you're not invincible to this." You scoffed, pushing past him and downstairs to your kitchen, Stefan following suit as you spoke, "You mean I'm human, right? Defenseless and vulnerable?" You shook your head, interrupting him as he tried to speak, "No-don't even, this wouldn't be a problem if I was a vampire. If I wasn't so fucking needy, always pitifully needing protecting, can't even decide how much liquor to drink." You slammed the coffee pot back in it's place, impatiently waiting for it to finish. "I don't think you're pitiful or needy. I think that you're drinking too much and putting your life in needless danger and you won't tell me why."

You flailed your arms, spinning around to pour yourself a cup of coffee, grabbing a bottle of liquor and starting to pour some in, but Stefan's hand is on the bottle. You slammed the bottle down turning to Stefan, shoving him back with every scream, "You stupid fucking," shove, "I told you," shove, "it makes me feel better!" shove. You sighed, "I'm sorry," running your hands on your face, sighing again, "Just, get the fuck out Stefan." You turned back to your cup, pouring the liquor, only to be stopped by Stefan, "No." Your blood boiled, "Get the fuck out!!" Stefan took the bottle from you, setting it back on the counter, "Not if when I leave you're just going to drink that."

You instantly threw your coffee cup, watching it shatter into pieces before grabbing the bottle and turning it up. You chugged and chugged until Stefan pulled it away from you, "You gonna fucking leave now?" Stefan stepped closer to you, hating the way the alcohol burned his nose, like a poison coming off of you, "Baby, I'm not going anywhere." You screamed, out of frustration or shame you weren't sure which, it was a blood curdling scream, slamming your hand down, hitting the liquor bottle cross the floor enjoying the way it shattered. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"You! This!" Stefan sighed, "You won't talk to me, you brush me off and act like this isn't something I should care about but it's been like this as long as I can remember, I'm worried, I can't protect-" You slammed your hands down on the counter over and over, kicking the cabinets and laughing, "Jesus Christ Stefan, I don't need your protection!" Stefan grabbed your hands, turning you to him as gently as he could, your strength diminished from the bottle of alcohol you chugged, "I want to protect you, I want to, I know you don't need it, I want to," his voice to a whisper at the end of his plea, "I want to," his hand moved from your wrist to your face, "I love you, I want you to be around as long as possible, I need to protect you, you don't need me to, I do."

You sighed, your forehead resting on his, "I love you too," you pulled your wrists back, "I'm sorry." Starting to pull away from him to clean the mess up, he was gone and back before you noticed the mess was gone. "Talk to me," Stefan said as you walked past him, sitting on the couch. "I hate myself," you sighed, "I'm so weak and puny, I feel like I'm always in the way," you shrugged, "I get so angry all the time, maybe not even at other people, really at myself," leaning against Stefan as he put his arm around you, "Drinking helps, really?" he asked hoping to hear an honest response. "If I'm honest? No, I just feel like it's better than feeling like this all the time."

Stefan slid his arm under your legs, his free arm moving your arm around his neck before moving around your waist and standing up. "What?" You looked up at him, he smiled, "I have something that might help." In the next moment, you guys were out of your house and watching everything rush by until you hit forest. Suddenly Stefan stopped running, setting you down gently, smiling, "I was gonna show you to this on our anniversary, it's not finished yet, but I don't see why we can't go ahead and visit."

You started to ask what he meant until you saw it-near dead ahead was a large clearing, but it had been worked on, there was a stack of rocks with one slab of rock covered in the softest moss you'd ever touched, "So you can read and do homework comfortably," Stefan said, pointing up to the makeshift roof of vines that you now notice wrap around the trees, making a circle around the clearing, you loudly gasp, taken by the beauty and effort he's already put into this for you, for your relationship.

You continue to look around as he points to an obvious training area, he smiles, "I know that you've been struggling, but I didn't realize how much," he moved closer to you, his front now pressed against your back, arms encircling your waist, chin resting on your shoulder, whispering in your ear, "I'm gonna have Bonnie protect it, it's gonna be just us here, me n you gonna relax, you're gonna read over there, train over there, we can put a table for picnicking over there-" he points to an area that is close to the moss bed, "and lots of flowers and colors, to always brighten our day, gonna put a vine door-" you turned around and kissed him.

Your hands were on the side of his face, hair intertwining with his hair, he lifted you up, your legs circling his waist, you feel him smile. You pulled back, "I love it, thank you, this is going to be great," you kissed him again, "you know, it is our space, I could help you put stuff together, whatever you wanted to add." Stefan nodded, kissing your forehead, "I think when you wanna drink we should come here." You kissed under his ear, trailing down his neck, "two conditions," Stefan hummed, moving his head to the side he allowed you more access as he pressed you against one of the many trees that circled the clearing.

"Well, we'll come here when I wanna drink, if we'll come here when you get hungry," Stefan let out a small groan as you bit his neck gently, loving how he pulled your hair. "And the second?" He asked as your hands traced down his torso, grabbing the hem of his shirt, "you fuck me, now." He smiled, kissing you hard, and the next thing you know, you're sitting on the edge of the moss bed. "Easy," he pulls off your shirt, admiring your body for a moment, "it's a deal."

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