#( ✦ these thoughts at 2am in the morning : head canons

[kayjaywrites]

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350 Chapter Music Inspo: End of It - Friday Pilots Club

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

XxXx

Prologue

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle.

It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

...one year and a couple months later....

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a little over a year into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over a year of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over his naked chest.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remained.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

[aka-indulgence]

Gentleman

Thank you @skelliefanatic for another commission! They wanted a Buckshot roulette Dealer and man do I need More Dealer huehuehhe Commission Info

(The Dealer x Female!Reader)

Working at a club wasn’t fun. The lights, the sounds, the smell (ugh, the smell), not to mention the people…

There is an upside to working there though. The owner of the establishment was a nice, polite, respectful man. Even if his face looked like something out of a nightmare.

TW: Guns, injury and blood, general club stress (canon typical stuff)

———

You were not having a good time.

Your head pounded, and the time you should’ve spent walking to the bus stop was taken by having to deal with a rowdy drunkard until eventually you resorted to asking the bouncer for help. It wasn’t realistic, but you hoped to go home before the last bus- at 1-2AM. You asked your boss to go home earlier tonight; you were exhausted and easily overwhelmed tonight. He did give you permission (you think he might have a soft spot for you), but despite his goodwill you ended up missing it anyway.

You might’ve had a bit of a panic attack… just a little one. You fled to the bathroom and locked yourself in there for about half an hour. The music was too loud, the thick smoke was nauseating, and if you had to stand under the flashing neon lights for much longer you think you’d start screaming. The stalls muffled the sounds a bit, which was better than nothing. (Though you did hear a couple of girls come in to… expel their stomachs. That didn’t help.)

When you got out, it was clear to anyone that you weren’t ok. The bartender, Jacob, took one look at you and grimaced.

“Hey, you look rough. Do you want something from back here? Dealer probably wouldn’t mind if it was you to be honest.”

“No thanks. I don’t really wanna get sick tonight.”

“Fair enough,”

You tried to help him out even though you knew you wanted nothing to do with the club patrons right now- but he was kind enough to give you reprive and let you stay at the back of the bar for the rest of the night.

After many long hours, the club finally closed and everyone dispersed. You felt like you could take a good long breath; and it meant the next bus was coming soon.

You took a peek out the door. The sky was as dark as ever and you could feel an immediate chill down to your bones, even though you only opened the door a crack. The music’s off and so were all the lights of the club, except for the bar. Your eyes and throat feel dry. You can tell your muscles were going to be sore once you got home, and honestly, you might sleep on the bar floor if the club wasn’t so eerie.

For the record, you do prefer a closed club over the sensory overload that was an open one, but the silence is deafening and this building always felt haunted when it wasn’t in use.

You really didn’t want to go home in the dark. You don’t feel safe- not that you ever did, but you were especially tired tonight and you don’t think you’ll be aware and alert enough to be walking home in the dark. But you also don’t think you have it in you to stay in the club until six… if you’re going home, you have to go now. The next bus won’t come for another hour.

Not like leaving in the early morning is any more dangerous than going at midnight. … I think…

Might as well.

You yawn and toss your coat over your shoulders when you hear heavy footsteps approaching.

Even though you could guess who it was, you yelp and drop your bag when you see the Dealer’s large face in front of you.

“Careful, angel. You never know when there’s a greedy monster’s lurking around these parts,” the Dealer laughed, catching your bag and returning it to you. “Of course, it’s always a pleasure to see you but… why are you still here? I thought I told you you could go home early if you wanted.”

“Oh um, yes but… I missed the bus.” You sighed. “There was a guy we needed to kick out, and by the time I looked at the clock I realized I missed the last one.”

The Dealer frowns and tsks. “Those are the kinds of men I wish were upstairs with me instead. Sorry you had to deal with them, beautiful.”

“Th-thanks!” You mumbled. You never knew what to do when he calls you those things… it’s always more respectful than what you’d expect him to say.

“So are you… done… up there…?” You floundered. You didn’t really know what goes on upstairs, just that the Dealer spends all his time up there and you hear what sounds like gunshots but uh… you try not to think about it too hard!

Sometimes it was a bit of a gamble whether or not the Dealer was going to show face at all, usually towards the end of your shift. There are nights when he comes down full of life and beaming his razor-grin, nights when he comes down heaving and ask for an obscene amount of beers, and then other nights where he doesn’t show up at all… and the upstairs is quiet. Jacob tells you that out of all nights not to go upstairs, it would be the quiet ones.

The Dealer smiled sinisterly, grabbing a tissue from over the bar counter and wipes the ends of his teeth.

“... Yes… It was a plenteous one.”

You can’t tell in this lighting. The Dealer’s teeth never looked ‘right.  Crooked, sharp, too many, and stained a rusted color, and right now it looks redder than usual. Bright red. Whatever it was, it stained the tissue the Dealer used and it almost looked like…

You swallowed.

“That’s good to hear!” You think? “Thank you Dealer, boss, sir. I have to go now- the bus comes in twenty minutes and it’s a fifteen minute walk from here.”

You don’t know what to call him sometimes. He prefers the name ‘Dealer’ the most, and that’s what most people call him. You don’t think that’s his real name, but no one knows his real name as far as you know, and the man (if he even is one) is cagey about it.

(“Boss? No… just call me Dealer, angel. Everyone does.”

“Is that… your real name?”

“Practically. Besides… I love hearing it from you.”)

“Who are you going with?”

“Um… no one,”

“What?” Dealer scowled, “what about the boy?”

“Jacob had something else to do, he’s not taking the bus my way tonight…”

The dealer strides past you towards the door and opens it wide. A cold, dark street looks back at him. He seems to be thoughtful… then turns to you with conviction.

“... Right, c’mon treasure, I’m coming with.” The Dealer barked, tossing his trench over himself.

“I- really?”

“Yeah. Now what kind of boss would I be if I let a beautiful thing like you walk alone down those streets?”

Your eyes… sparkle. You’re touched. You’ve been dreading the walk home to the point that you almost considered crying in the bathroom until the sun rose, but now that you’re going to have a large, menacing presence lumbering near you, you feel your stress melt away. Even the scariest club goers pale whenever they see his face.

“Th-thank you so much! That’d be great”

He extends his arm towards you like a gentleman. It was almost hilarious how big his arm was, built more like a log. You’re happy to take it.

“Let’s catch that bus of yours, shall we?”

*****

The walk to the bus stop was the most atmospheric it’s ever been. Walking down these streets were always so tense. Granted you only started working at the club only recently, but you don’t think you’ll get used to the walk home in the dark anytime soon. And you’ve had your fair share of walk-home-alones before, and they never get any better no matter how many times you’ve done it. It’s dark, you always need to pay attention and sometimes even that’s not enough. Fast walking, hoping that man behind you isn’t actually following you…

But now, with Dealer next to you? He walked leisurely with a smile. Even hunched over he was the biggest man you’ve ever seen. You felt like you didn’t have to on the lookout, even enjoy the breeze a little.

“Is your home this way too, Dealer?”

“Hm? Oh, no. I’m not going home.”

“...?” You tilt your head at him. “You mean you’re staying at the club?”

“Mhm. Don’t have anywhere else I need to be.”

“... Do you live in the club?”

Though he didn’t have pupils, it looked like the Dealer was looking somewhere else, and his hollow eyes crinkled. “You could say that.”

… Why did he have to be so enigmatic? What does he mean when he says things like that?

“What about you, angel? How’s yours?”

“It’s nothing that fancy,” you laughed awkwardly. “Just the usual shoebox apartment, just a couple of bus stops from here. It’s not the best but…”

You trail off as something catches your eyes. You purse your lips, looking nervously at a group of smoking men in the alleyway. Their eyes were seedy and all of them had an unpleasant scowl, cigarettes stuck between their teeth. You looked away too late, because they turned to glare at you.

It didn’t last long, though.

The Dealer looks over your shoulder and flashes his toothy, red grin.

“Good evening.”

The men’s eyes all widen like saucers and in an instant they scramble out of sight.

… You walked closer to the Dealer and held his arm.

The Dealer chuckles. “You can relax, angel. Those boys won’t bother us.”

“Do you know them?”

“Yes. One of their men died in the club.”

You blink your eyes and shook your head in disbelief. This information, given to you so freely- and the Dealer didn’t seem all that bothered by it.

You bit your lip, thinking about the questions you shoved under the metaphorical bed all this time. You thought about the gunshots you hear from upstairs.

You look up at him.

“Dealer?”

“Yes?”

Rip the bandage off. He doesn’t seem all to bothered by it anyway.

“Can I ask what you usually do upstairs?”

His eyes widened a little, looking more alert. You expect him to react emotionally- not sure in what way, but he doesn’t emote beyond that. It was less like he was upset and more like he was excited.

“I run a game up there. A gambling game. If you’ve noticed, I don’t really pay attention to the club… I have someone else deals with it, I’m simply the de facto owner. The game is where I pour my attention.

“It brings all the gamblers who’s willing to bet their life away, which is most lucrative… not to mention, fun.”

Your brows furrow. The Dealer looks at you knowingly.

“You’re wondering about the gunshots, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“Go ahead, ask.”

The Dealer looks so… unbothered. From the way the other people in the club frown and speak vaguely about it, you thought the Dealer would be equally as secretive about his activities. Thinking back at it, you realized how many players you must’ve encountered on the job- people who walk in disgruntled, sometimes drunk, sometimes just obstinate, almost angrily asking where the ‘roulette’ is. Of course you didn’t know anything about a game, and had to be saved by Jacob who quickly sent them upstairs.

You hem and haw as you ask the question: “So um… those are… were those for the… cheaters…?”

The Dealer laughs.

“Cheaters? No, not most of them. It’s hard to cheat in front of me and get away with only a few gunshots,” the Dealer looks on darkly.

“So… you’re just killing gamblers?”

“It depends on how the game goes whether they die or not, though most at least stand in the doorway of death. But they’re definitely getting shot.”

You would’ve stopped walking right there if you didn’t remember you were trying to catch the bus. The Dealer slows down his walking pace a little for you.

“How can you just say that so easily?” You ask, less judgemental, more genuine, distressed confusion.

“You can only play once you discharge any claims towards me and my parties by signing the waiver. It’s legally binding.”

“So basically them telling you they allow themselves to be shot?”

“Something like that.”

The Dealer summarizes. “It’s a game of roulette, but with a shotgun. Buckshot roulette. We take turns with the gun, either choosing to aim the barrel to yourself or the other player.”

So… it’s like russian roulette, as you know it.

You knew whatever was happening upstairs had death written all over it, but you didn’t know it would be something as harrowing as literally gambling with your life.

You’re shaking a little when you ask again.

“H… have you ever gotten shot?”

You’d guess at least a few times, right? He’s lucky that none of them hit his vital organs or…

The Dealer snrks.

“Lots.”

“... Huh?”

You look again at the edge of his mouth, something glistening under the broken street lamp. He’s still holding the tissue from earlier, crumpled and messy in his fist. … It looks much redder than it was before.

“Defibrillators and blood transfusions work like a charm,” he says matter of factly, winking at you.

… You… you don’t think it works that way???

The Dealer takes one look at your flabbergasted face and laughs.

“It gets my blood pumping… after I get my face blown off. Exhilarating,”

Your mouth hangs open.

“How are you alive after all that?” You cry helplessly, “Are you sure you’re not up there fighting, I don’t know… gang members or something?”

“No, they know not to. They have no reason to, after all. Don’t want to knock on the devil’s door so to speak.”

As you wonder if you’ll ever understand the Dealer’s cryptid wording, you find the only pleasant part of the street. The bus stop was up ahead, sitting in an island of yellow light from a street lamp that was actually upkept. The street itself was empty and silent.

Of course, you didn’t realize how most cleared out as soon as they saw the Dealer.

You run up to the time table and open your phone to check.

You sigh. “Phew, just in time. It’s gonna come here in a bit.”

The Dealer stops short of the street, his shadow long and dark under the light. You turn to him and smile.

“Thank you so much for accompanying me, Dealer,” you say softly and sincerely.

The Dealer blinks owlishly at you. His smile stretches and his cheeks darken a little. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was a blush.

To be honest, there was a small part of you that didn’t trust the dealer completely and hoped it wasn’t a ploy for something more nefarious… and it wasn’t. Though now that you think about it again, you were also alone with him in the club, as the others had left earlier. If anything, it’d be the best place to jump you…

You’re glad he wasn’t like that.

You step back when he bends down on one knee. He was still taller than you, and when he places his goliath hand on your shoulder you’re reminded of a parent talking to a child.

“Be careful with your life, ok angel?” He says, his forehead pinched. “I never want to see you lying dead on the ground.”

You give him an appreciative smile. It’s… really sweet, coming from him.

“I will.”

It isn’t much, but he seems reassured by that. He leans in a little and for a brief moment you thought he was about to kiss your forehead, but he braces himself on his knee and stands back up.

You both turn as the bus appears out of the corner, the lights shining into your eyes. It creaks and steams as it stops, and the door folds open. You quickly climb onto it and shiver when you’re blasted by the heater- glad to be out of the cold. You turn to wave at the Dealer, but by the time you do, he’s no longer there.

You stand there dumbfounded as the door closes quietly, and the bus rumbles as it departs. You stare at the lonely bus stop until you can’t see it anymore and finally take one of the many empty seats.

…

Now you’re really questioning whether he’s human or not.

[maraschinomerry]

You and Me

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: five times George didn't know he had a crush on you, and one time he did

Content: fluff, first kiss, canon-typical danger

A/N: I've been working on this for ages and am so relieved it's finally done! A lot less angsty than most of my stuff, just tooth-rottingly sweet for a change 💕

Word count: 3.2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear

5.

George hovered in your doorway. You'd left it ajar, your secret signal to each other that you were up for company, but it was almost 2am and he'd never visited this late.

"Hey Georgie," your voice whispered from the dim lamplight within. "Couldn't sleep?"

He shook his head before realising he couldn't actually see you and there was a chance you couldn't see him either. "No, I, uh… no."

Suddenly your head popped up from behind your bed, blinking groggily, and you waved him over. He pulled the door shut behind him.

"How did you know I was there?"

"Because I know you, silly," you elbowed him playfully as he sank to the ground beside you, your backs resting against the bed. You tried to ignore how scratchy the sheets were against your neck.

You'd both joined Fittes about the same time, and as the two newbies and joint youngest you quickly became inseparable. Everyone else was alright, you were a team after all, but between the elitist mindset and regulation living quarters the place never really felt like home. It had quickly become apparent that 'home' for both of you was each other, and now nearly 6 months in you spent most of your free time in one of your rooms or tucked away in a corner of the British Archives. Much like tonight, shoulder to shoulder in the soft orange glow.

You sat in companionable silence for a while, occasionally being pulled from your thoughts when your fingers would brush his and it felt like a spark ran up the whole length of your arm.

Eventually, George spoke. "Do you ever think about leaving?"

You turned to him with a frown. "Leaving Fittes? Duh."

"Fittes, London, agents' work, all of it!" His voice held a hint of the animation it did when he was telling you about a particularly exciting artifact, but there was something sombre about it tonight too.

"I mean, yeah," you considered, "but it's not that simple. Wherever we go, the Problem will follow. And we had a plan, Georgie."

A month after you'd joined, the first time George had been in your room, the two of you had made a contract. Pass your Grade Four, leave Fittes, establish your own agency, become the best in London (in England, even) and have your weaselly team leader Brookes begging you to come back or better yet hire him. But you wouldn't, because you wouldn't need him. It would be you and your rapier, George and his research, against the world. You and him.

"You and me," George murmured. You smiled warmly at him, draping and arm around his shoulder and pulling him close.

Something shifted deep in his chest.

Oh.

4.

It had been the worst year of your life.

Your best and perhaps only friend in the whole world had been fired, sent packing in the middle of the night with no chance to leave you a contact number or tell you where he was going. When you found out the next morning, Brookes had had to give you the rest of the day off because you couldn't stop crying long enough to achieve anything. How could you focus on training when a piece of your soul had been torn from you?

It only got worse from there. You were sidelined for countless opportunities, used as bait like you were nothing, and to top it all off you were reassigned to the team of one Quill Kipps, who you thought made Brookes look like a saint.

One day, in late summer, you reached your limit.

You quit.

"Where will you go?" Kipps had asked. You wanted to think he was mocking you, telling you that nowhere would accept some Fittes reject, but truth be told he was genuinely concerned.

You didn't know the answer to his question, but you refused to stay for a day longer. Measly bag of belongings and rapier in tow, you made your way round London to every agency you could think of. No luck. This was such a bad idea. George would be horrified by your lack of planning.

Not for the first time, you wondered where your friend had ended up. Maybe he'd gone north. Maybe he'd opened his own agency. Maybe he'd given it all up like he said. Surely he wasn't still in London. He'd have looked for you, right? Right?

You flopped dejectedly onto a bench in Hyde Park. It was close to nightfall, and you'd need to find somewhere to stay. A newspaper lay abandoned beside you, half falling through the gap in the wood. You thumbed through it to the ads section, hoping to find a boarding house or even a late-night pub.

Your eyes lit up.

"A.J. Lockwood & Co. Prestigious agency hiring junior agent. 35 Portland Row."

With trembling hands you tore the advert from the paper and tossed the rest aside, sprinting for the nearest taxi rank.

The door to 35 Portland Row was opened by a tall boy with dark hair and equally dark circles under his eyes.

"Hello, I'm looking for Mr Lockwood."

He offered you a smile. "That would be me. How can I help?"

You hesitated. He barely looked older than you, let alone old enough to be the head of a prestigious agency. Then again, you had no other prospects and nowhere to go. You inhaled, preparing yourself.

"I'm here about the job." You held up the newspaper cutting with a slightly trembling hand.

"Splendid!" His smile widened. With a flourish, he gestured for you to step inside and guided you through the door on the right into an eclectic living room. "Have a seat, my colleague has just gone to brew a fresh pot of tea if you're interested?" You nodded. It had been such a busy day you hadn't even realised you'd skipped lunch and your mouth was dry as a bone.

While you waited, you dug out your hastily constructed CV and handed it to Lockwood, who skimmed over it with interest. As he turned the page, a door behind you creaked open and he lowered the paper as he looked up.

"Ah, perfect timing. Another candidate, thought I'd wait until you got back," Lockwood explained to the mystery figure as they moved around the edge of the sofa, before he turned to you. "Allow me to introduce my colleague-"

You barely registered what he was saying. Your focus was entirely taken up by the curly haired, bespectacled boy holding the tea tray.

"Georgie."

The tray clattered unceremoniously onto the coffee table, and before Lockwood could register what was happening you were on your feet, being tackled into a bear hug that almost knocked George's glasses straight off his nose. Your arms wrapped around his waist as you buried your head into his shoulder, tears already formed and soaking into his orange plaid shirt. Lockwood watched in fascination as his friend, who had well established in his year with the company that he did not enjoy physical contact, scrunched his eyes shut and brought his free hand (the one that wasn't gripping your shoulder like a lifeline) up to tangle in your hair.

"Hey, you," he murmured into the top of your head, blinking back tears of his own.

"You two know each other." It was more of a statement than a question from Lockwood, who you had quite forgotten was still in the room. Blushing, you extricated yourself from George's embrace, and felt your pulse skip when the hand that loosened from your shoulder trailed down to link with yours.

"We were together at Fittes," George stated. He must have told Lockwood about your time together, because the other boy just smirked knowingly.

"Very well then, I suppose we can dispense with the tests, if George will vouch for you?" He looked to George, who nodded so hard he thought his head might fall off. "Welcome to Lockwood and Co. Do please have a biscuit."

3.

"George?! George!" you yelled, voice hoarse with dust and nerves.

You'd been fleeing the basement of a decrepit haunted house when, with a sickening crack, the bottom half of the rickety wooden staircase collapsed right behind you. George had pushed you to leave first. He'd been right behind you. On those steps.

You crouched at the edge of the shaft, terrified of what you were about to see. Your mind filled with visions of your best friend, laying prone or ghost-touched on the cold concrete below. Relief and adrenaline flooded your veins when you saw him, from the chest up, clinging to the remaining steps and legs dangling above the debris. Lockwood and Lucy, the newest member of the agency, were nowhere to be seen, but the ripple of a reforming Type Two behind George was all too noticeable. Bracing yourself as best you could, you reached down and gripped him by the forearms. You weren't sure you could lift him alone, but as soon as his knees cleared the now-bottom step he was able to scrabble his way onto his feet. He scampered up the remaining steps and slammed the hatch closed with an echoing finality.

Your hands were on him immediately - brushing hair from his eyes, turning his head side to side, adjusting his glasses, running down his arms and across his torso, anywhere you could think of to check for injuries.

George was perfectly unharmed, he knew. Nothing more than a couple of splinters embedded in his T-shirt and a slight lack of breath from where his chest had slammed into the step. But he said nothing, more than content to let the accident disguise the real reason for the quickening of his breath as you worked your fingers across almost every inch of him. As they came to rest on his chest, he prayed you would think his racing heartbeat was just from the narrow escape, his flushed face just from exertion. This really wasn't professional, any other agency would have him on a disciplinary, but he was too far gone to care. Still, probably best if Lockwood didn't find out. He wouldn't be mad, of course, but he would be so smug.

2.

You woke up in a cold sweat, barely even aware of where you were. Weeks had passed since the Bone Glass was destroyed, but you were still plagued with nightmares. Sometimes it was Lucy, hanging unconscious from the Skull. Sometimes it was Lockwood, bleeding out on the catafalque. Mostly it was George, in any number of horrifying scenarios. Tonight, you'd watched rigidly, unable to move to help no matter how much you yelled at your dream self to save him, as Joplin pressed her knife closer and closer to his throat. His echoing cry as the blade dug into his skin had flung you awake with a jolt.

A gentle tap at your door pulled you back to reality.

"Yeah?" you called, voice catching.

The sight of a familiar mop of curls, attached to a very much alive George, began to soothe your speeding heartbeat.

"Hey, is everything okay? I thought I heard you scream." Oh my god. How were you supposed to explain that away? Lockwood and Lucy were away on a case, you two were the only ones in the house and it definitely hadn't been him imagining things.

"I'm fine," you said with a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

Falteringly, George stepped further into your room as though there was an invisible barrier he wasn't sure whether to cross. "Are you sure? You don't seem fine. You're shaking." You'd dropped your gaze lest he scrutinise it, so you hadn't seen how close he'd come until he was on his knees in front of you, reaching for your trembling hands. When you didn't pull away, he took them ever so gently, grounding you. You bit back a sob. "Hey, hey," his voice softened further, "I've got you." He moved to sit next to you on the bed, bringing the hand nearest to you up to rub circles into your back.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled between sobs, "I didn't mean to wake you. It was just a stupid nightmare."

The hand left your back, then it was on your cheek, turning you to him. His thumb brushed away your tears.

"Listen to me, (name). You have nothing to be sorry for, you understand? I know what it's like, I get nightmares too sometimes and they feel so real, so don't dismiss it as stupid. And I hate the thought of you suffering in silence. You're the most important person to me, I'd do anything for you, so please let me?" He had no idea where the words came from, but he meant every single one. You nodded, still teary-eyed, and he opened his arm out to allow you to curl into his side.

It was impossible to tell how long you sat like that, but eventually your eyelids began to droop. George noticed and gently manoeuvred you to lie down, drawing the sheets up over you. You gave little protest, too exhausted to mind, until he made to move away, when he felt his hand tugged back.

"Wait." You looked up at him, a blush painting your cheeks. "Will you stay? Please?"

He gave you one of those laughs he only seemed to do around you, more of a sharp exhale through his nose accompanied by fond eyes and a soft smile. "What did I just say? I'd do anything for you." You felt the mattress shift as he settled onto the other side, keeping a respectful distance but making sure you could still feel his presence. At last, you drifted off, knowing he was there.

1.

"You look rough," Lockwood commented when George slouched into the kitchen the next morning. George wanted to bite back that he didn't look much better, hair a mess and eye bags deeper than ever, but he'd only just got back from the case with Lucy so he had a reason to be tired.

"Didn't get much sleep," George muttered, shoving a couple of slices of bread into the toast and clicking the kettle on. Normally he'd start the day with tea or juice, but this time only coffee was going to be strong enough.

Lucy appeared from the basement, looking more dishevelled than Lockwood. A huge smear of dirt coated her cheek and her shirt was torn. She'd heard the conversation. "Are you okay?" She knew George had barely slept for the first few days after the Bone Glass, and his words made her worry he was slipping back into that bad place again.

He realised what she was implying. "Oh, I'm fine. It was (name) who had the nightmare, I just stayed up to make sure they slept okay after it."

Lockwood and Lucy exchanged a glance, fighting to suppress the grins that were beginning to form. George squinted at them.

"That's very chivalrous of you," Lucy said with twitching lips.

"Oh absolutely, you're such a good friend," Lockwood continued. Lucy snorted.

"Well yeah," George frowned, "why are you saying it so weirdly?"

They stared at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Because you don't seem to realise how much of a crush you've got on them."

Heat rose in George's cheeks. That was ridiculous; you were his best friend.

"Look," Lucy said gently as she settled at the table, "would you come and check on me if you heard I was having a nightmare?"

"Of course. I've done it for Lockwood before too." He'd visited the other boy's room so many times during his first few months in Portland Row.

"But did you stay up all night with me? And I'm guessing you weren't on their desk chair." Lockwood raised an eyebrow.

George opened his mouth and closed it again. They were mad, they had to be. Sure, he wanted to keep you in his life forever now he'd found you again, but the same could be said of the other members of the agency. As for the need for physical contact, the butterflies it created in his stomach, the way a single smile from you could fix even the worst days, that was just… oh hell.

0.

George felt like he was in shock. All this time, all those funny little feelings he had around you, it was a crush. He could have been with you all this time if only he'd realised. Wait. That was assuming you liked him back, and surely you'd have said something, right? So there was no way you felt the same. But Lockwood and Lucy knew him so well, they would never have brought it up if they didn't think there was more to it. If they didn't know. God, this was complicated.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Your voice in the doorway made George jump. How long had you been standing there? How long had he been lost in thoughts of you, of finally telling you how he felt now he had the words?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," you apologised sweetly as you moved to join him on his bed. "It just looked like you were thinking about something very serious, is it anything I can help with?" Yes, it absolutely was. You had no idea how much it was.

"I'm an idiot," he blurted.

You frowned, placing a hand on his knee and unwittingly sending a burst of electricity through his entire body. "You're not an idiot, Georgie. You're the smartest person I know and I love that about you, don't ever downplay it."

"No, (name)," he turned to you, gaze intense and bursting with emotion, "I am. I've been in love with you from the very beginning and it took Lockwood and Lucy intervening for me to realise." He could barely look at you now, terrified of what he might see - confusion, disgust, pity, disappointment. It wasn't how he'd planned on telling you, either. It was supposed to be so much more romantic, but he'd wasted this much time figuring it out that he couldn't bare to waste a second longer waiting for the right moment to come along. "I don't expect you to reciprocate, and it doesn't have to change things, I just wanted you to know."

Whatever reaction he was expecting, a laugh was not it. The sound was light and pure, like wind chimes in a summer breeze. "You are an idiot… for thinking there was any chance I wouldn't feel the same."

The spark from your hand on his knee reached his chest, igniting the fireworks he'd been storing safely in his heart. Colours, beautiful colours, burst before him: the rich centre of your irises, the highlights of the sun on your hair, the flush of your cheeks, the rose of your lips. Your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked quietly.

"I'd be an idiot if I said no," you laughed again as you wound an arm around his waist, pulling him closer and bringing your lips to his. The lingering scent of lavender and old books blended with the taste of tea and biscuits to create a sensation that you knew was completely unique. 'You and me', you'd agreed. And here you were, you and him. You kissed him deeper, relishing in the taste. George tasted just like you'd always imagined he would. Like home.

[emeralddoeadeer]

Give me a sample for prompt 48 plzzzz

Hey! Thanks for the prompt <3

I actually got this one twice but rather than have you share the angsty result, I thought I'd do another.

“I called you at 2am because I need you.”

to dream the impossible dream

Canon 860 words

The unmistakable sound of his best friend calling his name rouses him. Bleary-eyed, he tosses his arm carelessly to the bedside table, fingers reaching around the cool smooth surface.

“Prongs? Do you mean to say—”

“Sirius this is serious.”

The sound of light laughter fills his dimly lit bedroom, James fumbles for his glasses, squinting at the mirror in his hand.

A glimpse of auburn hair, a flash of pale neck as she tosses her head back, Lily Evans.

“You don’t understand— where did Mary go? She gets it…”

James hears his best friend chuckle, the image on the small rectangle in his hand sways with their movement, their location indiscernible.  

“Mary, my dear, is utterly sloshed and insisted on finding a chippy that she swears she knows how to find; the pack followed her.”

“I like chips, chips are delicious— almost as delicious as dimples, you know who has a great dimple? Your best mate.”

The chuckle returns, a feminine sigh feathering through the sound.

He’s dreaming, he must be dreaming.

James pulls himself up in bed, resting his back against the headboard, stretching his neck from side to side, in the hope of gathering his wits.

“Let’s wait here for everyone—” The steady motion comes to a halt, his friend’s leg in view “—you have any other thoughts on this best mate of mine?”

Sirius lifts his arm, sending a wink to James through the reflective glass, and angling it so the girl next to him fills the small frame. Her head rests back against a brick wall, a smile spreading from cheek to cheek.

“So many, all the time.”

“More than you think about the giant squid?”

She wets her lips, releasing another soft sigh, “More than I think about magic, probably.”

Merlin, it’s impossible, it’s a dream, just a really good dream.

“Prongs?”

“James Fleamont Potter, your James.”

“You sure he isn’t your James.”

“I wish he were here—”

“Yeah?”

A crease pulls her brows together, a fleeting sadness.

“I smell vinegar, hold this, I’ll be over there…”

The perspective shifts, he can’t make out much in the streetlight, shadowed outline, the corner of a fringed smock.

If this is a dream, he doesn’t want to waste it. He wants more of her, to talk to her, see her clearer, look her in the eye.  

“All right Evans?”

His voice is coarse, a cough follows and when he recovers, there she is sparkling green eyes sweeping over his bed-messed hair, his flushed cheeks.

“James?” A breathy whisper that sends a shiver through him.

He sends her a bashful wave, he wants to memorise this look on her face, a look of delight, of wonder.

“You’re in bed.”

An easy smile pulls at his lips, “It’s almost two o’clock in the morning—”

“You didn’t come out.”

She pouts her lip, and he considers that maybe she believes it a dream, her mind creating a drunken conjuring.

“Mum doesn’t approve of mixing Pepper-Up with firewhisky…”

“You’re hot, I mean are you hot? I— Sirius said— do you still have a fever?”

His breathing is heavy and his chest hammers against his ribs.

“I think I’m feeling better actually.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, I— unless this is just all fever-fueled delirium.”

She tilts her head to the side, studying him intently, a soft smile lifting her lips. She opens her mouth, looks away, and closes it. Her head shakes from side to side and her eyes look more awake when they return to him.

“You sure you’re feeling better?”

“Oh, ‘eh, yeah, reckon so.”

“I think I need to check for myself, do you fancy some chips?”

“What?”

The rest of the soon-to-be seventh-year Gryffindors appear in the background of the small mirror as if from nowhere.

“James invited us over for a nightcap, shall we find a floo?”

The mirror passes back to his best friend, a brief wink and it disconnects.

He stumbles from bed, feet solid on the wooden floor, and tangles himself while changing out of his pyjamas, his body bubbles with anticipation, if this is a dream it’s more real than any he’s ever had before.

Laughter, followed by shushing, travels up the stairs as he descends, a welcome sound of life in the quiet old house.

“Morning, all.”

Remus pats him on the shoulder as he passes, Sirius wears a wide grin, “To the kitchen—”

Everyone follows, the promise of a cool butterbeer to wash down their food.

They’re all here, Lily is here.

She stops in front of him and runs a hand through his dishevelled hair, her knuckles skimming his cheek.

“You’re flushed.”

“Uhuh—”

He has no doubt, no means to cool himself, no potion to cure the cause.

He brings her hand to his chest.

“Rapid heartbeat too, it’s the Evans effect.”

Pushing onto her tiptoes, she presses her cool lips to his cheek, covering his dimple.

Threading their fingers together, both hands, palm to palm, Lily rests her head on his chest as if she’s in communion with his heart.

“You have that effect on me too, James.”

To dream the impossible dream, only to have reality be that much sweeter.

[glitchy7734]

-Stan Marsh Head Canons-

Favourite time of year

Stan's favourite time of year is the transition period between winter and spring. He enjoys seeing the days grow longer and the sun appear more - seeing the odd new flower bloom under the snow.

2. Does he read? What's his favourite book?

Stan doesn't really read much. If he reads anything at all, it's comic books. But he definitely tried reading some Edgar Allen Poe during his goth phase.

3. Favourite way to waste time

Stan's favourite way to waste time would be listening to music, laying in bed and just allowing time to pass him by.

4. Favourite type of music

Influenced by his hatred for his father and the metal band he was in when he was a kid, Stan's favourite type of music is metal or rock. One of his favourite bands is Korn.

5. Hobbies

Stan's hobbies just include writing songs and listening to music if that counts. His depression makes it difficult for him to try new things and stay committed to them. Also, I don't take him for a very sporty person.

6. Happiest memory

Stan's happiest memory is when he, Kyle and Kenny all turned Cartman into a ginger while he slept. It was funny, knowing how he would react in the morning. It also gave Stan a chance to get back at Cartman for everything he had done.

7. Most embarrassing moment

It would definitely be when he first threw up on Wendy. The fact that he had only just come to terms with his massive crush on her didn't help either. Poor guy cried in his room all weekend.

8. A best friend moment

Him and Kyle bleached streaks in Stan's hair because of impulsive thoughts one school day. Kyle put it in Stan's hair and nearly put it in his eyes. This was at 2am on a Wednesday.

9. Blemishes or scars

He has a small 2cm scar above his left eyebrow from when he contracted vaginitis. It left a scar similar to a chicken pox scar. Has a scar on his abdomen, slightly below his belly button - he can't remember how he got them. Also, he has a few scars on his forearms - from his tween years and from when he was overwhelmed by developing hormones.

10. Biggest fear

Stan's biggest fear is abandonment. He thinks of the ones closest to him leaving him and that really scares him. This leads to him being protective and overthink every action he makes.

11. Good luck charm

A friendship bracelet Kyle gave him is both his most prized possession and his good luck charm. It's made of small wooden beads, changing between red and blue, with a single silver bead on it.

12. How he hugs

Very awkward. Mostly just leaning his head on a shoulder or chest, with a single arm wrapped around them. It's not that he's not a hugger, he just has a hard time feeling fully comfortable with someone.

13. How he sleeps

Tosses and turns a lot. If he doesn't, means he's really exhausted. Starts off with seeping on one side but ends up with laying on his back in a starfish position.

14. How does he express love?

Platonically - acts of service. He'll let someone know he cares about them by offering to help them with anything he can. Romantically - quality time. Stan will spend as much time as he can with his S/O, from small hangout sessions to planned dates. This will all include small moments of physical touch like holding hands.

15. A skill he'd love to have

To be able to draw. He thinks it'd be really cool to be able to draw whatever he wants from his imagination. He'd definitely draw his superhero persona - Toolshed - as if he was a Marvel comic hero.

16. His spirit animal

Stan feels like he resonates with sloths on a spiritual level. Doesn't know why, maybe because he always feels sluggish and moves like them. He also thinks they look pretty cool.

17. Hogwarts house

He would be in Gryffindor despite his own insecurities.

[astraei]

ARCHETYPE QUIZ.

40%     VISIONARY

Leave it to others to live by the status quo. The Visionary is interested in new ways of seeing, solutions not yet imagined, products not yet built.

33%     ROYAL

When the Royal walks into a room, they command attention. They are the one in charge, and they enjoy reaping the rewards of their hard work.

27%     ADVOCATE

The Advocate is the one everyone wants on their side. In the name of justice, they are not afraid to challenge authority or speak up for others.

ᴛᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ʙʏ:  @shiroganc ᴛᴀɢɢɪɴɢ:  @iliyovunjika, @warsrph, @jawblade, and anyone who wants to jump in \ o /

[welcometololaland]

Lola, your tag and anon ask reply for the exasperated Carlos set are so spot on. Thanks so much for putting the set on my dash. It’s brilliant! Please know that when I saw it and your tag (exasperation is his love language), I was immediately recalling lines from the (epic) Mesh Shirt fic you wrote a bit ago. I just want to say that I think you capture this particular love language of Carlos’ so beautifully in your writing. It stays with folks (hi, I’m folks lol).

“Carlos gives TK a look that he hopes conveys exasperation rather than amusement. He’s feeling a weird mix of them right now, but it shouldn’t be surprising. TK somehow manages to occupy the very niche status of the love of Carlos’ life and also the bane of his existence, and he kind of wants to see how far TK will take this, but he also has self-respect.”

The niche status line is truly incredible. 😂 That’s the part that came to my mind when I saw you put the set on my dash. It’s the whole thesis statement of Carlos’ unique love language for TK.

These other two lines are also pure gold:

“TK is the light of his life, and sometimes that light blinds him a little, but it’s only a temporary thing.”

“…Carlos wonders for a brief second where the hell all of his self-control has gone, because it used to be watertight and now it’s full of holes.”

These are all so good and so fitting! I could keep going because you’ve peppered more just like them throughout all of your Tarlos fics, but I gotta go to bed so I’ll stop here lol. Grateful for the way you depict their love in your writing and the laughs you bring out of us with one exasperated Carlos Reyes. 😂💖 Have a great day!

Thank you so much, Sonia! You are truly such a gift and I am so honoured by all of the above!

Perhaps it's only because I've been in this fandom for a short while, or maybe it's just my writing style, but I feel like it's so much easier to express my thoughts and feelings about Carlos, TK and their relationship through fic, rather than in expressing a particular head canon/responding to an ask. Then, you came in with the above - all this other stuff that I honestly forgot I wrote, but it definitely reflects how I feel about Tarlos - and it conjured some feelings. So thank you, and also sorry in advance for the essay.

You know, they (vaguely waves hands) always say that you should never expect the person that you're in a relationship with to change for you, and I think in TK and Carlos' case, that rings very true. They're very different personalities and they remain very different personalities - one a little more reserved, perhaps more cautious. The other with a tendency to be a little more rash and impulsive.

I think my favourite thing about Tarlos is that although they're quite different, their personalities complement each other so well. Not only in the way that they soften out the rough edges of each other's less ideal qualities, but in that they bring out and enhance a lot of the really special ones. As the chaotic Lone Star timeline continues we see Carlos flourish - his fun, friendly, snack-king, i-am-the-loving-dad-of-this-group energy becomes more and more evident, alongside the sheer amount of character development in s 3, and I love that. I like to think that his relationship with TK has given him the safety and the encouragement to let his guard down a little more, be a bit sillier, express his love for everyone by running around and making sure they're all well fed.

Certainly, I don't think Carlos has ever been boring, or too uptight. I just think we didn't get to see as much of that energy from him in s 1 (although we did always get to see the exasperated energy - that has been right there from "if I was a less secure man, I might be bothered by the fact that i worked up the nerve to ask you out, and you spent the entire night talking about another guy" to "at three eighteen in the morning?").

Also, Carlos might slander TK for his habit of eating at 2am or trying to live off AA doughnuts, but don't tell me that Carlos-Do-You-Need-Me-To-Cook-You-A-Whole-Ass-Dinner-Reyes wouldn't eat his feelings on occasion. He definitely has a guilty pleasure of some kind and I need to know what it is.

Don't even get me started on TK. That's a story for another day, but this man really went from TK-I-Hate-Everyone-And-Everything-Strand to TK-Soft-And-Sweet-As-A-Marshmallow-Strand, and you can't tell me that Carlos giving him a stable and loving relationship - something TK has clearly always craved - doesn't play a huge part in that. TK needed someone who would let him be prickly sometimes, see all his flaws and fears, and love him just a fiercely anyway.

If anyone can do that, it's Carlos.

[dcbbw]

Prodito

After what seems like forever, I have managed to carve out some writing time in the midst of riding the rollercoaster that is my life now. I am making headway on lots of deadline late stories, and have even managed to finish the first one!

This story is my submission for @choicesflashfics inaugural prompt challenge. I chose the following prompt: “Neither one of us is drunk enough for this conversation.” and it will appear in bold.

The storyline is born of the idea that Liam has a private conversation with Adelaide, the Duchess of Krona, following her lack of support once Barthelemy invokes the Coventus Noblis. It’s really nothing new, but hopefully the perspective these two characters bring sets it apart.

It was also brought to my attention that @queenjilian and I share a head canon regarding the death of Queen Eleanor I and the reasons behind it. I promise, the idea came to me at 2am this morning and was not influenced by her story, Only Time Will Tell. Specifically, check out her Chapter 5 to see her execution for the hows and whys it went down.

Also, unsure if it’s canon or fanon, but I think a majority of us share the belief that Leo’s middle name is Alexander. If not, my usage is purely coincidental.

Now re-thinking posting this story …

THANK YOU to all who looked this over. It’s still a one-shot. (for now)

THANK YOU to all who will read this story; you and your likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you know.

Last thing, prodito is Latin for betrayal.

All characters belong to Pixelberry

Song Inspiration: To the Room, Gabe Gurnsey

Word Count: 2,500

The Duchess of Krona stared moodily out the arched cathedral windows that lined one of her private libraries’ walls. Her gaze registered the full bloom of quince and loquat trees, and the delicate blossoms of Agapanthus, and Mediterranean Sea holly flowers that comprised the small garden encircling the outdoor swimming pool.

But she didn’t see them.

Her eyes fell to the band of gold rimming the lip of the Waterford glass in her hand; she idly swished the remaining liquid, lips twisting slightly at the small amount of drink left. Adelaide didn’t recall drinking so much; she definitely wasn’t suffering the effects of consuming nearly a full glass of overproof coconut rum direct from Comery Isle. Either she had been drinking too much for too long, or the stress of the impending meeting had completely numbed her nerves.

Protection and treason often shared similar traits.

A discreet knock on the closed doors caused the Duchess to turn; two maids entered, both pushing trolleys of refreshments. The women curtsied quickly at the sight of their employer before setting a Victorian English tea service complete with biscotti and finger sandwiches, along with refreshments such as luncheon meat-filled pita wraps, cheese, crackers, and fruit on a sideboard that sat beneath a portrait of the duchy’s noble family.

Adelaide’s pale-blue eyes studied her wedding ring as the women worked; it was a large diamond, almost gawdy in its flashiness, surrounded by diamond chips. The gems sparkled and twinkled in the sunlight pouring through the window.

A symbol of her union to the Duke of Karlington.

She could have been Queen.

The Duke and Duchess over two houses in two countries did not have a marriage, nor did they ever entertain illusions that they would. It was a failed power play, one Adelaide had used to her advantage. She had learned early in life to turn drawback into favor.

“Your Grace, His Majesty has arrived,” one of the maids murmured, pulling the Duchess of Krona from her thoughts.

“Please escort the King here to the library,” Adelaide requested as she looked over her reflection in the gold-filigreed mirror hanging above the fireplace.

Her silvery-blonde hair hung in loose curls about her face, the bangs side-swept; the hairstyle looked stiff and unnatural, but not much she could do with it now. She ran her palms down the sides and front of her simple frock, smoothing away any wrinkles. At 60 years of age, Adelaide still had an hourglass figure, although the sand was beginning to settle in unflattering places.

After a moment’s hesitation, she cinched her belt a little tighter, accentuating her ample bosom.

The Duchess of Krona had a reputation to uphold.

Even before the King of Cordonia strode through the open doors, the Duchess felt his presence. Liam had an authority about him, an almost magnetic pull; one could not help but lay eyes on him.

“Your Majesty,” she curtsied.

“Your Grace,�� Liam acknowledged in a curt tone as he sat in one of the many tufted velvet armchairs placed throughout the room.

“I do appreciate you agreeing to meet with me. The invitation was also extended to the Queen; I’m sorry she could not attend.”

“She has business in Ramsford,” Liam explained. “And given recent events, you’re fortunate I deigned to give you an audience.”

“Food? Beverage?” Adelaide waved a hand towards the sideboard. “You may be a bit …  famished after your trip.”

Liam leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees as his hands interlocked; his demeanor was cold, his eyes pools of flat ice as he looked up at Adelaide, who was still standing. His tone was stiff when he spoke.

“Duchess, let’s forgo the niceties and formalities. You withdrew the support of Duchy Krona and by extension, Fydelia when I needed it most. Tell me, right now, why I shouldn’t strip you of your lands and title?”

The skirt of her dress swished about Adelaide’s still-shapely calves as she made her way to the bar cart. Without asking, she poured the King three fingers of scotch over a single ice cube, and herself more coconut rum. As she headed towards her seat, she paused to press crystal glassware into one of the King’s now unclasped hands.

“Neither one of us is drunk enough for this conversation,” Adelaide advised. “You’ll need this.”

She sat, crossing her legs at the ankle before tucking her feet beneath her chair. Her eyes carefully appraised the monarch before her.

“You ask for loyalty from those you lie to,” she observed quietly.

Liam continued sipping the Dalmore 50-year-old single malt, raising an eyebrow in inquiry. “I beg your pardon?” he asked in an even tone.

“You entered into an agreement with my daughter for her hand in marriage. An agreement you abandoned, bringing embarrassment upon my duchy and her fiefdom. An act such as that was certain to bring about consequences.”

“Choose your words carefully, Duchess,” Liam warned through gritted teeth as he deliberately placed the drink upon a coaster on the ebony coffee table.

Adelaide shook her head slightly. “The withdrawal of my support in face of the Conventus Nobilis was not premeditated, but an opportunity for us to speak privately on the matter. And save your breath with threats of taking my lands. We both know that by law, you cannot.”

“Laws can be re-written.”

“This particular law is in the original Cordonian Charter, as you well know. Once a family has ruled over a duchy for the minimum amount of 150 years, the family owns the land and its associated titles free and clear, with the exceptions of wartime where lands may be seized for the good of the country, or back taxes owed exceed the worth of said lands.”

Adelaide looked over the rim of her glass, a gleam of triumph in her eyes. “My lineage dates back to the time of Queen Adriana, when our ancestors fought side by side.”

“I can strip the Duke of his titles and lands.”

“I presume you realize that Duchy Karlington is in England? I also presume you are working with the authorities there to make that happen. What you don’t know is, Godfrey no longer owns Karlington. Madeleine does. He bequeathed it to her upon her 18th birthday, and is now technically part of Duchy Krona.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And yet, your unpunishable treasonous act was not premeditated?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Liam! Not taking your side in an argument is not treason!”

“THIS IS FAR MORE THAN AN ARGUMENT, ADELAIDE! THIS is an OVERTHROW of the government!” Liam yelled, his deep voice reverberating off the walls of the library. “The support of Cordonia’s longest-reigning Duchess who happens to govern the country’s second-largest duchy would have been a key turning point for both paparazzi and Crown!”

Adelaide rose, needing to eat something before she did begin to feel the effects of the rum. “You’re correct,” she conceded as she carefully stepped to the sideboard, plating a turkey, spinach, and cheese pita and some fruit. For good measure, she also plucked a chilled bottle of water.

“This … coup … has been in play for decades involving once prominent members of Court: The Duke and Duchess of Lythikos, The House of Severus, The Duke of Ramsford, and Godfrey. There are probably many more, but those were the primary players.”

Liam leaned back in his seat, crossing his ankle over his thigh. “But my father only recently died, and not by an assassin’s bullet.” His tone was laced with both skepticism and distrust.

Adelaide met his gaze. “But your mother died at an assassin’s hand.”

The King’s complexion darkened as realization dawned. “Are you saying …?”

Her Grace nodded slowly. “It was a group effort between Lionel, Barthelemy, and Godfrey to unseat Constantine. Had it succeeded, Lionel would have become King. And then he would have been assassinated, leaving Barthelemy a free and clear path to the throne. Naturally, Lionel was unaware of the double cross.”

Instantly, Liam’s complexion paled. “But … but …"

“Godfrey didn’t want the throne. He wanted a marital alliance between Bertrand and Madeleine.”

“I don’t care about that,” Liam spat. “Were they going to kill us all off? There is still a line of succession, Duchess!”

“Eleanor drank from the wrong goblet; she took Constantine's by mistake. Your father was supposed to die, and it was assumed Eleanor would abdicate and return home to Auvernal. The Crown would be effectively vacated.”

Liam stared at the Persian carpeting beneath his feet. “Is this why father sent Leo away to boarding school?”

Silence as Adelaide pondered divulging her secret. She chewed her sandwich as she and the King gazed upon the other.

“Unsure if that was a rhetorical question, but I have the answer: No. Leo was sent away because Godfrey was pushing for the alliance between your brother and my daughter … his sister.”

Adelaide stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror: Her skin was pale and blotchy; vomit dotted the corners of her mouth and rested on tendrils of her hair. Her stomach lurched and roiled, but the nausea had subsided. With a shaking hand, she reached for a washcloth, turning on the faucet with her other one.

In the doorway, Constantine stared at his fiancée through slitted eyes. “How in the HELL could you have been so careless?” he demanded in a furious tone.

“I didn’t do it alone, Constantine! YOU helped, or have you forgotten?”

“How far along are you?”

“I haven’t seen my period in eight weeks at least. I thought it was the stress of the Social Season and now the Engagement Tour, but it appears I was wrong,” Adelaide muttered, leaning forward into the basin to clean the ends of her hair.

Constantine stared at her for a moment before turning his back and walking back to the bed. He picked up the hotel phone, speaking quickly in hushed tones. Adelaide didn’t try to overhear. She was too worried how this would present to her country, her parents. The wedding was still four weeks away; she wouldn’t be able to hide her already swelling belly.

She didn’t have to worry long.

The next day, the Engagement Tour ended; Cordonian Court returned home. The soon-to-be Duchess of Krona was sent to a home for unwed mothers, run by nuns in a mountainous Swedish region. She heard regularly from her parents, and the Duke of Karlington who had been vying with the future King for Adelaide’s affections.

No word from Constantine.

On a cold, snowy February morning, Adelaide gave birth to a healthy baby boy who had her eyes and hair, Constantine’s nose and chin. She named him Dimitri and bonded with her son for two months. One April evening, her parents arrived at the institution to take their daughter back to Duchy Krona.

They brought with them an order from the highest Court in Cordonia, instructing Adelaide to turn the child over to his father, the King, and that her parental rights had been terminated. Anger and frustration flooded her blood; Adelaide became so violent in her fight to keep her son, she had to be sedated.

When she awakened, she was home. And childless.

The headline of the newspaper on her nightstand announced that King Constantine and his new bride, Queen Laura, were the proud parents of Crown Prince Leopold Alexander Dimitri Rys. There was also a velvet ring box from Godfrey. She opened it slowly; through a torrent of tears, she saw the diamond ring and a folded slip of paper on which two words were scrawled:

Marry me.

“Why are you telling me this? What do you gain from it? Liam asked angrily. His eyes were filled with hurt and disbelief, but no tears.

“Because the coup is still in play. Barthelemy has help from a force stronger and more insidious than Sons of Earth or Liberation Army.”

“WHO?”

“Via Imperii.  They have infiltrated every royal court and numerous noble houses throughout Europe, and if rumors are true, the highest levels of American government.”

Adelaide took another sip of the rum as Liam gulped his scotch.

“I realize I’m the laughingstock of Court, that I’m viewed as nothing more than a drunken slut with a penchant for younger men, but I’m the only duchy with no rising crime, building more institutions of higher learning, and attracting more new businesses to Cordonian than any other.” She paused to set her glass down. “Ironically, the very traits that people laugh at are the same ones that make me so trustworthy; they beleive I’m inattentive, and proceed to tell me all the gossip, all the conversations.”

“And this benefits me … how?” Liam asked skeptically.

“Your wife is not Riley Brooks of New York City. She is Crown Princess Valeria Runarsdottir, daughter of Queen Sigrid of Vallenheim. She is betrothed to Lord Tariq; I believe it was his idea you frequent the restaurant your future bride was “waitressing” at the night you met.”

Liam entire complexion blanched; his hands curled into fists. “LIAR!”

“She was given an entire dossier on you, Liam. She knew everything about you: how to pique your interest, how to captivate you, your favorite scents, colors, foods. Your quirks, personality type, interests, and hobbies.

“The pictures that caused the scandal were real; she and Tariq couldn’t stay away from each other. He’s never been found, has he?”

Liam shook his head slowly.

“He’ll resurface once you’ve been removed from the throne.”

“It’s UNTRUTHS, Duchess! Riley would NEVER place our child in jeopardy!”

Adelaide looked at him almost regretfully. “She’s still seeing Baby Eleanor. That’s her business at Ramsford. Bertrand and his family are in Paris under the guise of vacation to escape Barthelemy; Young Beaumont is in Fydelia with Madeline helping to uncover further members of the Cordonian Via Imperii. She’s in Ramsford visiting with the baby and strategizing with the elder Beaumont.”

“MY WIFE LOVES ME!”

“She loves your power, your wealth. She’s working to unseat you, and once that is carried out, Cordonia and Vallenheim will unite, creating a union unheard of in the Mediterranean.”

“I need proof, Adelaide. I need unequivocable evidence of ALL of this!” Liam raged, pacing the room like a caged lion.

“I can provide it, but I will need your word that I have your utmost discretion and complete trust. I’ve only gotten this information by agreeing to go against you in the vote. If word gets back that I’ve alerted you …"

“You have my word. I’ll swear it on the Bible, ancestors’ graves, whatever you need,” Liam promised as his thoughts tumbled.

There was a brisk knock upon the door before it opened.

“Word on what, darling?” the Queen of Cordonia asked as she walked into the room, her eyes darting between her husband and the Duchess.

Liam and Adelaide stared at each other. The door had been shut, it’s wood inches thick.

How much had the Queen heard?

Tagging: @jared2612​ @ao719​ @burnsoslow​ @marietrinmimi​ @merridithsmiscellany-blog​ @queenjilian​ @indiacater​ @kingliam2019​ @bebepac​ @liamxs-world​ @mom2000aggie​ @cmestrella​ @liamrhysstalker2020​  @neotericthemis​ @twinkleallnight​ @umccall71​ @superharriet​  @busywoman​ @gabesmommie1130​ @tessa-liam​ @phoenixrising308​ @beezm​ @gardeningourmet​ @lovingchoices14​ @foreverethereal123​ @mainstreetreader​ @angelasscribbles​ @lady-calypso​ @emkay512​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @21-wishes​ @princessleac1​ @charlotteg234​ @queenrileyrose​ @alj4890​ @yourfavaquarius111​ @motorcitymademadame​ @bbrandy2002​ @eversoaringqueen12​​ @queenmiarys​​ @choicesficwriterscreations​​

[tendouluvr]

hq!! boys and the walkie talkie feature on the apple watch

- characters: tsukishima, bokuto, atsumu, kageyama

- warnings: some cursing, tsukki calls you a weirdo but in a loving way, atsumu says “peepee”

- wc: 293, 238, 257, 239

a/n: i saw a tiktok earlier where a wife and her husband connected with each other on their apple watches to use the walkie talkie feature and it lets you say anything to the other person any time without any warning so she turned it on and said ‘penis’ after he got to work and it made me giggle

TSUKISHIMA

#! either you were the one to convince him to connect, or he wanted to so that he could watch over you

#! despite being nonchalant and acting uninterested most of the time, he cares a lot

#! if you were the one to convince him, he would act like he didn’t care and pretend like it was stupid

#! but he replies to everything you say. his replies range from a quick and simple, “ok.” to calling you one of his endearing petnames, “weirdo.” and occasionally he would reply normally with answers to your questions

#! if he was the one to suggest the idea, he would use it as another way of his that shows you he cares

#! uses it to remind you to drink water, to eat, to take a break if needed, to shower at a timely manner, to not sleep at 2am (i type as it’s 1:15am)

#! he would never outright ask you how you’re doing though. it feels weird for whatever reason, so he sticks to just giving you daily reminders and he hopes you can see his efforts

#! “yn?” it was currently 1am and you hear him softly calling your name

#! “hmm?” you hummed, letting him know you were still awake

#! “why’re you up?” he immediately asked, but before you could answer he spoke up again, “whatever, i made you a playlist.”

#! it was silent for a bit, he genuinely thought you fell asleep while he was talking

#! “keiii why must you be like this? i hate you, go to sleep.” you finally spoke up, voice a quiet whine

#! you hear him snicker and then it just ended, indicating that he released his finger off of the watch

BOKUTO

#! cutie.

#! wanted you to connect with him so he could give you compliments all the time and remind you that he loves you every few minutes

#! but that quickly just turns into him treating it as if you guys were spies

#! whenever he raises his watch up to his lips, he always whispers (well, as quietly as he can) so he could pretend like you guys were those cool secret agents sneaking into official government buildings

#! “i’m in! where are you?” he loudly whispers, a tiny bubble of spit dropping onto the tiny screen

#! BOKUTO SPITS. this man is loud and his volume control is so bad. he doesn’t mean to spit, he promise, but he can’t stop it 😫😫 he talks too hard 😭

#! “bo,,, i’m at base. you’re at practice, please go before you get yelled at,” you whisper back

#! despite finding the play pretend a bit silly, you still go with it to make him happy. plus it’s lowkey fun

#! “ok babe! i love you! stay safe! i’ll be back in no time! i love you!” he ends with a loud wet smooch into the speaker

#! you laugh at that and tell him your ‘i love you’s before finding something to occupy yourself with

#! bokuto likes to end all of his talks with you with at least two ‘i love you’s just to emphasize his point

ATSUMU

#! begged you to connect with him

#! doing the whole flopping around, body draping over you, whining voice shtick

#! “baaaabbbyyy, please connect with me. ya gon’ make me cry.”

#! “then cry.” he did

#! you eventually agreed though, he was practically leaping off the walls

#! as soon as you guys were connected, atsumu took advantage of it and spoke to you every second of the day

#! and i mean every. second.

#! “hey! what’re ya doin’?” his whispered voice is heard through your watch

#! “‘tsumu what the fuck, you’re laying on my lap.” you looked down at him, who currently has the goofiest smile on his face with half-lidded eyes boring into you

#! he would be the one to say unsuspecting dirty words to surprise you

#! it’s been days since you guys connected your walkie talkies, the memory starting to make its way to the back of your brain

#! until a loud, “peepee!” was screamed from the device on your wrist

#! if atsumu could see you right now, there would be physical “?!” animations popping out of your head

#! “h-hello?” you whispered, pretending to not know who was on the other side of the screen

#! “babe? it’s me. yer ‘tsumu. did ya forget? hello?!”

#! “shaddup.”

#! he purposefully keeps his finger on the button while letting out a loud gasp to let you clearly hear it

#! basically,, turning on walkie talkie with atsumu will make you immediately regret ever getting together with him

KAGEYAMA

#! was absolutely petrified when he suddenly heard your voice coming from his watch

#! he was on his morning run, earbuds in, head in the zone

#! last thing he expected to hear this early in the morning was you through his watch saying, “hey sexy.”

#! your lazy smirk oozing through your words and he could see it in his head

#! “yn. do not scare me like that. why are you up so early anyway?”

#! him on the outside: 😐🤨

#! him on the inside: 😟😖

#! is him being jumpy ish canon? idk but i see him as a somewhat jumpy person, mainly cuz he’s kinda clueless sometimes idk

#! you giggle to yourself hearing him reply stoically before pressing down on the button to say something back, “morning, i’m going back to bed i just wanted to scare you.” he could hear you snicker before the watch went silent

#! rolling his eyes, he quickly glances around him to make sure no one was near before raising the watch up to his lips and whispering, “boo!”

#! “did that scare you?” he snickers, oddly proud of himself

#! “tobio.....go back to running.”

#! “fine. mean.” he pouts

#! you ended up staying awake a bit longer than intended and every few minutes would cheer corny words of encouragement while he was running lmao

#! his cheeks were flushed but he blamed it on the cold

[newtonsheffield]

Following the theme of the recent head canons, what about Anthony observing Kate with their children (especially as babies because babies are absolutely adorable). You gave us such a cute snippet of Kate and Miles but what about the others?

Oh gosh! I’m so sorry you’ve waited so long, I hope you still want to see this! The post featuring Kate and Miles is here for those of you who haven’t seen it!

Okay! Mumma Kate giving Anthony heart eyes! Let’s go!

Anthony had awoken at 2am the day after they’d brought Edmund home from the hospital to an empty bed. He’d reached his arm out for his wife, hoping to tuck her against his chest in the way that always made his breathing even out, the calm Kate’s presence brought sinking into him, but the sheets on the left of the bed were cold. He’d sat up, frowning slightly looking around the room a little stupidly before pushing the sheets off himself and padding softly out of the room, searching for his family. The nursery door was ajar and Anthony nudged it open just a little further, peeking inside. And the sight stole the breath from his lungs. Kate was standing, bathed in the light streaming in from outside the room, moonlight mixed with street lighting, causing a soft glow to form around her, their tiny son tucked into her chest swaying softly as she rocked him back to sleep, humming softly. Anthony recognised the song as the one they’d had their first dance to, when they’d first been announced as Mr and Mrs Anthony Bridgerton and he’d thought his heart couldn’t burst anymore with pride. He’d been wrong. Silently Anthony padded back towards their bedroom grabbing his phone and taking a quick picture. After 59 messages from their families stream in the next morning Anthony admitted it was a slight error to send it to the group chat

Boys speak softly okay, Charlotte and mummy might be sleeping Anthony admonished half heartedly as Edmund and Miles ran ahead of him chasing after a portly Newton, flinging the front door open loudly. He’d taken the boys to the park for a few hours, Charlotte had been up all night and Kate was struggling a little and it was becoming a little overwhelming with three children under the age of five, he’d left Kate to try and let them both sleep in a quiet house. He silently prayed the boys hadn’t woken her. Why don’t you go upstairs and grab a book for me to read to you? Get Percy the ParkKeeper! He said as he helped Miles shrug out of his tiny coat, hanging them in the closet as his sons sprinted up the stairs. Anthony smiled as he watched them go, shaking his head slightly as he moved into the living room, his breath coming out as an odd huff when he sees Kate, stretched out on the sofa, sound asleep. Their tiny daughter laying on her chest, Charlotte’s fist tangled in Kate’s hair. Mother and Daughter breathing in tandem, identical sleepy frowns on their faces. It takes Anthony a minute to dislodge the lump in his throat.

The day of his daughter Mary’s birth was, the most stressful of Anthony Bridgerton’s entire life. He’d gotten a frantic call from his sister Kate’s having the baby you have to come now, Eloise had said more than a little harried, and Anthony had sprinted down all five flights of stairs when the elevator hadn’t been quick enough. His daughter hadn’t breathed air for five minutes when Kate had been rushed to surgery and mercifully, amazingly, Kate had been fine. Though He’d sobbed into his mother in law’s shoulder for a good few hours. But now as he watched Kate sitting with Charlotte on her lap who had Mary clutched in her little arms, Edmund at the foot of the bed smiling happily telling his mother about his day, Miles tucked into Kate’s side, his arms wrapped around her waist. He knew he would go through a million of these days for his family. Stop staring at Kate with heart eyes and get in there so I can take a picture of you all, Edwina muttered, nudging Anthony towards his family. The picture sits in Anthony’s desk until the day he retires.

[dameronology]

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 1

part one: an insight into how microwaving tea should be a capital crime (fem! reader) 

song for this chapter - ldn by lily allen

summary: you’re Percival; reigning queen of the Kingsman, certified bad-ass and one of the most self-sufficient women to have ever graced the City of London. A mission with the Statesmen is a chance to further your career and tighten your grip on international success - it’s a shame that Jack Daniels already has his eyes on the throne. He also has his eyes on you, and it proves to be a problem for you both. {series masterlist}

this has all the kingsman characters but doesn’t follow the canon of golden circle. eggsy, tequila, champ, merlin etc all crop up throughout the series as well! if u want to be tagged, gimme a shout 

- jazz

You didn’t usually answer the door when someone knocked after 11PM. 

It was just common sense, really. Only serial killers, creeps and people who had the wrong address would knock that late. You could have taken on any of those three regardless - you were a bad-ass after all - but you were also busy. You’d been tirelessly working all day at the office, and the grind didn’t stop just because you’d got home. The stack of paperwork beside your computer felt like it was never ending and you simply didn’t have the time to answer the door. Working as Kingsman was more of a lifestyle than it was a job.

‘Oi!’

You almost jumped out your seat when the banging moved to the window beside your desk. It overlooked your front lawn and the quiet street you lived on - well, as quiet as a street in central London could be. Classic to the city, rain was lashing down on the glass, obscuring your view of whoever your visitor was. 

Right, you could add Eggsy Unwin to the list of people who knocked this late. 

‘What the hell, Eggsy?!’ You sighed, opening the front door. Your colleague quickly rushed from where he was standing by the window, elbowing past you and into the dry warmth of your house. ‘It’s almost midnight-’

‘- I’ve been calling you for hours!’ The agent exclaimed. 

‘I’ve been working all day.’ You replied. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d turned up at your doorstep at a stupid hour. Eggsy was your colleague, but first and foremost, he was your best friend. He had a tendency to drive you up the fucking wall and right back down again, and had done since you were in your school years, but he’d always been a little dependent on you. Whether it had been letting him crash on your sofa when his stepfather became too much, or giving him a lift home from the police station at 2AM after he’d been arrested, you always had his back. He had yours too, but you rarely needed it. Even after becoming a member of the Kingsman and essentially saving the world, you were still the first person he came too. 

After wrapping Eggsy up in a towel and escorting him to the kitchen, you placed a mug of warm tea on the table and sat beside him. Work could wait - for an hour or so at least. Chasing an internationally-reclaimed terrorist certainly took precedence over whatever your friend’s problems were, but if he needed you, he needed you. Bros before hoes might not have been the perfect saying for the situation, but the sentiment was definitely there. 

‘What’s happened now?’ You quirked an eyebrow. ‘I know it ain’t an arrest because you would have called from the station otherwise.’

Eggsy thinned his eyes at you. ‘I haven’t been arrested in two years.’

‘So what was it?’

‘I had a fight with Tilde.’ He admitted. ‘I don’t know what happened, but she’s mad at me.’

‘Were you talking before she got mad?’

‘Yeah.’

You raised your mug in the air. ‘That’s probably it then.’

‘Y/N!’ He swatted your hand away, causing tea to spill out onto the table. 

You sighed. ‘D’you wanna talk about it?’

‘No, I just need a place to crash.’

You stood up, leaning over the table to give his shoulder a squeeze. ‘You know where the spare room is, right?’

‘That’s it?’ He pouted. ‘Tea and a squeeze on the shoulder? My life is falling apart!’

‘Don’t be a drama queen.’ You replied. ‘I have to work - and you should be too. We’re close to getting Calahan.’

Calahan was the codename for the terrorist you’d been tracking - at least his current one. The man had worked under several aliases, jumping from country to country before finally falling under the jurisdiction of the British secret services. The MI5 and Scotland Yard were too well known to work such a sensitive case; the location of their offices were publicly known, making it easier for Calahan to slip in double agents. The civilians, however, had no knowledge on the Kingsmen. A tailor’s shop was a perfectly good front for a place to set up base and track the man down. 

Thanks to your success on your previous missions, Arthur had put you in charge of finding him, with Eggsy assigned as your partner. He was just as good an agent as you, but you had little sympathy for his domestic issues. 

‘I was working on it all day.’ Eggsy held his hands up in surrender. ‘But with all due respect, Percival, I don’t work into the late hours of the night. I know how to switch off.’

‘That’s because you’re a man, Eggsy.’ You reminded him. ‘I am one of three women at Kingsman.’

‘That’s still three more than there used to be.’ 

‘You’ve already pissed off one extremely patient woman tonight.’ You warned him, referring to Tilde. ‘Do you want to go two for two?’

‘No.’ He huffed. ‘Women are just complicated.’

‘Or maybe men are just dumb.’ You smiled sweetly, before brushing a hand through his hair. ‘You should get some rest.’

‘So should you.’

‘I’m fine.’ You shook your head. ‘I’ve got a meeting with Merlin in the morning. We’ll have to leave at eight.’

‘Do I have to go? Merlin hasn’t said anything to me-’

‘- yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I said so.’

He couldn’t argue with that. 

--

The following morning, you were headed for the Kingsman headquarters by 9AM. Having filled Eggsy with some coffee and half a bacon-sandwich, he had cheered up considerably. You did feel for him - he had been right when he said that women were confusing - but your attention was still very much on work. That was the norm, really. You lived and breathed for your job. It wasn’t your whole identity but it was certainly your whole life. You were recruited at eighteen and now, it was all you knew. The other agents were your family. 

‘C’mon, Eggsy!’ You demanded, practically leaping out your car. Your arms were piled high with files, keys dangling from your fingers as you kicked the door to the Mustang shut. It had been a present from Kingsmen for a particularly successful mission. 

‘There’s no rush.’ Eggsy chided from behind you. ‘You should enjoy a little leisurely stroll once in a while. It might do that vein on your forehead some good.’ 

Whilst you were decked out in a blazer and black jeans, Eggsy was in his usual snapback and sports jacket. He trailed beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets as you both slipped inside the shop. It was quiet inside, the only sounds coming from the bell on the door and the sound of your heels on the polished wooden floors. You didn’t just wear them because they made your legs look endless - they doubled up as weapons too. Merlin hadn’t done anything special to them, it was just that anything was a blade if you tried hard enough. Your five inch Christian Louboutins were no different. The fact the bottoms were already red was purely a convenient coincidence. 

‘She still hasn’t called me.’ Eggsy murmured. 

‘I’m sure she will.’ You gave his arm a light squeeze. ‘Tilde loves you, Egghead.’ 

‘Fucking ‘ell.’ He let out a snort. ‘You haven’t called me that in years.’

The two of you made your way down the hall and towards the meeting room. Merlin was already sitting at the table, pens and notepads laid out in front of him. Considering that you’d worked together for years, you hardly knew the man. He was always working, always building new gadgets or arranging missions. Did he ever sleep? You wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out that he’d been a droid this whole time. Someone had mentioned his name being Hamish once, but he didn’t seem like a Hamish. You always pegged him as more of a...Simon. Or a Mark. 

‘You two are late.’ He greeted you. 

‘It’s nine o’clock.’ You shot back, dropping into the seat opposite him. 

‘Early is on time.’ Merlin folded his arms across his chest. ‘On time is late.’

You rolled your eyes at the agent. ‘You know how London traffic can be.’

Choosing to ignore your comment, the Scotsman hit a few buttons on the table in front of him. The whiteboard in front of you jumped to life, lighting up with a picture of New York City - specifically, Midtown. You’d been to the city several times for work, usually to do recon or on protection details for British politicians before diplomatic visits. Outside of that, any missions in North America were outside of the Kingmen’s authority. That was when it fell to the USA’s secret services - a bunch of people you weren’t particularly fond of working with. 

‘Calahan slipped out of the country.’ Merlin stated. ‘He’s been spotted in Manhattan by several of our contacts at the Bureau.’ 

‘What?!’ You guffawed. ‘I thought we had tabs on him. You told me we had tabs on him-’

‘- let me finish, Percival.’ He cut you off. ‘We let him.’

‘You…’ you scoffed in disbelief. ‘You let a known terrorist escape the borders?! You know that I’ve had tabs on him for months! Are you trying to waste my time?’

‘Calm down, agent!’ Merlin repeated, this time in a more firm tone. It was easy to let your temper get the best of you - but at the same time, it was the very thing that had allowed you to force your colleagues into submission. ‘He has more charges on his back in American jurisdiction. We have a better chance of convicting him over there.’

‘You could have told me that before I spent six months tailing him.’ You dropped back in your chair, folding your arms tightly across your chest. 

‘Your mission isn’t over.’ Merlin replied. ‘You know more about Calahan than any men here or across the pond. I want you posted in New York for a few months.’

‘Oh?’ You sat up, interest peaked. 

Working internationally was usually the first step to becoming a senior agent. It was one thing to commandeer the respect of your colleagues but to throw your name into the ring on a global scale? That was how you made it big time - and big time meant big time. Your work would go from being based in London, to taking you all over the world. Kingsman who worked on an international level could be in Moscow one day and Bogota the next. Once they retired, they were legends. It was the kind of success you’d dreamed of your whole life.

And New York was the first stepping stone. 

‘It’s only if you want it, of course.’ Merlin pulled you from your thoughts. ‘The Statesman have agreed to accommodate you, should you choose to accept.’

‘Statesmen?’ You tried to hide the displeasement in your face. ‘Like...the cowboys?’

‘Is there a problem, Percival?’

‘No!’ You quickly replied. ‘It’s just...I worked with one of them once. It wasn’t great.’

‘Here we go.’ Eggsy murmured from beside you. ‘She witnessed Agent Tequila make tea in the microwave.’

‘And I swore never to work with them again.’ You hissed under your breath, fists clenching.

‘I can see how that would be disturbing.’ Merlin agreed. ‘Though I’m not entirely sure it’s enough reason to turn down a potentially career changing mission.’

‘No, you’re right.’ You nodded. ‘But I can bring my own kettle, right?’

--

‘I can’t believe you brought your own fucking kettle.’

‘And I can’t believe that Merlin is making me drag you along-’

‘- it’s only for a week.’ Eggsy held his hands up in defense.

Eggsy, who had momentarily forgotten his relationship woes, had been posted out in the city with you for the first five or six days. Merlin and Arthur had been pretty insistent on him joining you - something about making sure you didn’t blow your lid at a cowboy. It was funny, because you were usually the one babysitting him. That being said, deep down you were glad to have him there with you. It would have made settling in a little easier. 

You were moving faster than him, the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors of the Statesman headquarters as you floated towards the front desk. The building was right in central Manhattan, bang in the middle of all the beautiful things New York had to offer. Not that you were going to experience many of them - you were here to work, after all. 

‘Percival!’ Agent Tequila was posted by the front desk, a grin spread across his face as your eyes met. ‘And...I know they told me your name, but I’ve forgotten.’

‘He’s Galahad 2.0.’ You stuck your hand out to Tequila, offering him the kettle. ‘This is for you.’

‘A...a kettle?’ The agent gave you an odd look. 

‘If I’m going to be working with you for the next few months, I cannot witness you making tea in a microwave.’ You explained. ‘I may murder you in your sleep otherwise.’

‘Jeez, lady.’ He muttered. He would have argued, but if there was one thing he’d learnt from your last collaboration, it was that nobody entered into a fight with you and won. ‘But it’s okay, you’re not with me this time.’

‘Oh?’ You quirked an eyebrow. Tequila began to make his way to the lift, signalling for you and Eggsy to follow. 

‘No, you’re with Whiskey this time.’ He explained, pressing the button for the top floor. ‘He’s a little more senior than me.’

‘Whiskey and Tequila?’ Eggsy muttered in your ear. ‘What’s their boss called? Pale ale?’

‘Champagne.’ You replied. 

‘Good one.’ He snorted.

‘No, Eggsy.’ You whispered back. ‘He’s actually called Champagne.’

‘Fucking hell.’ 

Yeah, you thought, that kinda sums it up.

The three of you stepped out the lift and onto the top floor. The views from the windows were almost breath-taking; it wasn’t often that you got to see 360 degree views of one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The skyscrapers stretched out further than the eye could see, eventually melting together in the distance where the sky met the land. It was almost breath-taking just to think about - the people, the opportunities, the magic that New York had to offer. London was your home, and you couldn’t even begin to dream of leaving, but your mind did wander off a little. 

‘Whiskey! I got your girl!’ Tequila yelled, pressing a button on an intercom outside one of the offices. He gave Eggsy a quick glance. . ‘And...the other one.’

‘Sweet Jesus, Tequila!’ A strong Southern accent came back. ‘You don’t gotta yell every time you use the fucking thing! I’m gonna be deaf as a goddamn doornail before I’m fifty.’

A moment later, the door to the office opened and Agent Whiskey stepped out. He was about the same height as Tequila, but a little older. He was wearing a cow-boy hat and there was a...was it a swagger? A spring in his step? Either way, the temptation to stick your foot out and stop him in his tracks was overwhelming. 

‘Well hello, pretty lady.’ Whiskey greeted you with a shit-eating grin. ‘I hear that you’re the little birdy who’s gonna give me Calahan?’

‘I prefer Percival.’ You monotonously replied. ‘And if I’m the little birdy that’s gonna give you Calahan, then you must be the yankee who stole him from me.’

‘Girl’s gotta bite.’ He gave your hand a shake. ‘I like that.’

‘This is Galahad.’ You pointed to Eggsy, who was inwardly holding his breath at the whole exchange. He was mentally counting down the minutes before you smacked off Whiskey’s cowboy hat. ‘Let’s see if you can acknowledge his gender three times in one breath-’

‘- okay, that’ll do!’ Your best friend pulled you back, taking Whiskey’s hand in place of yours. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Whiskey.’

‘Please, call me Jack.’ The cowboy replied. 

‘Whiskey. Jack.’ Eggsy murmured under his breath. ‘Oh my days! Imagine if your surname was Daniels.’

After a brief conversation with Jack about his surname - during which you had seen Eggsy Unwin more entertained than ever before - you were taken down the hall to the agent’s office. Meanwhile, Eggsy and Tequila were escorted off to exchange some files that you’d both gathered. 

Whiskey’s office was exactly as you could have predicted; a mixture of dark wood furniture and red tones. The air smelt of his aftershave, with a hint of brandy and earth.

‘Your desk is that one there.’ Whiskey gestured to a slightly smaller set-up in the corner. 

‘I don’t get my own office?’

‘Since we’re gonna be working in close proximity, Champ figured it was best we double up.’ He explained. ‘Saves us doing a whole revolving door movement when we gotta talk to one another.’

‘Makes sense.’ You placed your bag on the desk, admiring the view for a moment. All of your files on Calahan had been uploaded to the Statesmen’s online cloud, whilst your other belongings had been delivered to the apartment you were staying in. ‘Nice view.’

‘It ain’t bad.’ Whiskey nodded. ‘You been to this neck of the woods before?’ 

‘Only when British diplomats need a babysitter.’ You replied.

‘Babysitting?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s what you Kingsmen do? You babysit?’

‘Why d’you think Eggsy is here?’ You shot back. ‘To babysit me.’

‘Now why would a well-mannered redcoat such as yourself need a babysitter?’ He could barely hide the grin in his voice, leaning back against the window as he peered at you over his glasses.

‘How would I put it in your terms?’ You pondered for a moment, offering Whiskey a sweet smile. ‘Is there a Southern term for I eat cowboys alive?’ 

He gulped. ‘I...I don’t think we got one for that yet.’ 

You nodded, turning your attention back to staring at the view in front of you. ‘You should come up with one. It might be useful.’ 

[bbugyu]

good in bed + yoon jeonghan

between your long hours at the law firm and jeonghan's comeback coming up, time alone was hard to come by.

wc.3836 | smut, fluff, canon compliant, filthy language, too much laughing, gender neutral reader (but they do have a vagina), accidental domestication, an insane amount of praising and loving, the most vanilla smut i've ever written

i had every intention of writing a fic for every member before i started repeating and then jeonghan has been really mean to me this era and i was listening to dua lipa and wrote this entire thing in one go at like 2am a couple nights ago and now i have to post it

*

as someone who was lucky enough to have exclusive fucking rights to yoon jeonghan, you had learned that spontanaity was an absolute must. you were both extremely busy people, and sometimes making time to see each other was more difficult than you thought it should be. it didn't help that you couldn't meet in public - what with jeonghan's career - so days spent alone together were fewer and farther between, especially with his team gearing up for comeback promotions. recently, the most time you had spent with your boyfriend was the short while you spent video chatting when he got home from practice, usually around when you were waking up to head to work. 

so when you got a kakao message from jeonghan saying he was downstairs, you were quick to buzz him up to your floor, even if he knew the code to let himself in.

you had already settled in for the night, wearing a white tee with printing on the back - one of the many shirts he had abandoned at your home - and a pair of sleep shorts. you grabbed the pint of ice cream you had been snacking on and tossed it in the freezer before you went to the front door where your boyfriend has already punched in your door code.

his smile was immediate, an arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you into a quick peck on your cheek. "hi, baby."

you giggled when he pulled away. "hello, darling. to what do i owe the pleasure?"

"got out of practice early" jeonghan said, shuffling off his shoes and stepping into his designated slippers, tossing the duffel bag with his practice clothes to the side. "i convinced younghwan that i can get to the company on my own tomorrow."

"you have practice tomorrow? it's saturday."

jeonghan sighed, a smile dancing on his lips, running his fingers through your hair briefly. "fitting. 2pm. how was work?"

"fine," you said as you led him into your living area, thinking about how long it had been since the two of you had gotten to spend a whole evening and morning together. you meandered into the kitchen as you spoke about the intern you had taken on as a favor to a friend of yours. "have you eaten? do you want something?"

"i ate," he said, reaching an arm out to pull you towards him. he backed himself against a counter, smiling at you as you leaned into his chest. "you look particularly lovely today."

you huffed, batting at his chest. "shut up."

"you do!" he laughed, eyes big as he tried to convince you that his favorite version of you was the one that had already washed your face and was lounging in his clothes. you rolled your eyes and told him he just hadn't seen you much recently, but he countered by saying he looked at pictures of you every day, sighing at his phone, annoying all the members by saying how pretty you were and how much he missed you. you laughed at his tale of yearning, fully ready to call him a lying idiot.

then he kissed you, and you no longer remembered what you had talked about or if it was important, because jeonghan's lips were on yours and they demanded your full attention.

"mm, sweet," he teased, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

you giggled. "strawberry ice cream."

"good choice," he muttered, lips pressing against yours again. and much like the ice cream, you melted against him, heat rising in your chest when his hands worked their way down your hips and squeezed at your ass. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as you nipped at his lower lip, sparking a low groan.

"okay, we're going now." you giggled at jeonghan's announcement as he squeezed a palm against your butt once more before grabbing your hand and leading you to your own bedroom. you were still giggling when he put his hands on your hips, standing at the edge of your bed. you placed your arms around his neck, excitedly kissing him again, savoring the taste of his tongue on yours. somehow, he was sweeter than ice cream.

he held you like that longer than he intended, but jeonghan had a habit of getting distracted by you. his hands kneaded at your ass, only covered by the thin fabric of your criminally short house pants, and he quickly shoved his hands under the waistband to grip at you fully. you gasped into his lips, wanting nothing more than to grind against his lap.

with his vantage point, jeonghan slid your shorts and underwear down your thighs easily, letting them pool at your slippers as he returned his attention to your rear end. you shuddered at the feeling of the cool air against your core, biting at his lip. impatient, you fought with his belted jeans and shoved them down his hips when they were loose enough, earning a sly grin. "need something?"

you stared at his cock as it sprung out of its confines, hard and angry. "dunno, do you?"

jeonghan didn't respond outside of sitting back on your bed, kicking off his jeans as you fumbled with your bedside table, finding a condom. it had been too long. you both needed something. and neither of you were in much of a position to tease the other.

you crawled over to where he had backed up, sitting with his dick on high alert, and straddled his lap. he took only a second to whip off his shirt, then ran his hands up under yours to run a thumb over your hardened nipple. you whimpered, rutting your bare pussy against his shaft, which pulled a groan from his chest. you were wet and hot against the underside of jeonghan's velvety cock, and his hips bucked involuntarily into yours at the feeling. his fingers gripped your hips, dragging your pussy across his length. you moaned when the head of his cock brushed up against your clit, making your thighs shake already.

"fuck, baby, i need you now."

you bit your lip and nodded, wishing you didn't have to remove yourself from him just so he could slide on a rubber. he bunched up the hem of your shirt, gripping it against your waist to watch as his cock disappeared into your warmth.

your head fell to his shoulder as you lowered, whining at the way your walls stretched around him. he exhaled slowly, putting one hand on the back of your neck, the touch relaxing some tension in your shoulders. "you opened right up, sweetheart. have you been touching yourself?"

you threw your head back, still feeling slightly visually impaired from how full he made you, and twisted your hips slightly, earning a muffled grunt from your overly confident partner. "what i do in my spare time is no business of yours."

"mmmm," jeonghan pulled your shirt up more, capturing a nipple between his lips and sucking. "but imagining you fucking yourself while i'm not around is incredibly hot."

you moaned, rolling your hips into his and wrapping your arms around his neck. "fuck, jeonghan-"

"do you use that vibrator i got you?" he asked, hands on your hips, guiding you up off his cock and pulling you down harshly. you yelped, clutching at the hair at his nape as your mouth fell open. he captured you in a messy kiss at the opportunity, a string of saliva connecting your tongues when you pulled away to continue bouncing on him. "do you stretch yourself out with it and wish it was me? you're so easy to fuck right now."

his cock slid in and out of you too smoothly for how little foreplay had occurred, and your cheeks burned at the realization that jeonghan had perhaps too strong of an effect on you. you tried not to think about how good the vibrator had felt when you tweaked your nipples the way jeonghan did, when you imagined his voice egging you on towards an orgasm, when you pretended it was his hand pumping the device into you instead of your own. 

his grip on your waist tightened as he felt your walls clench around him. "god, you feel fucking incredible. you feel like heaven. you feel like a dream."

"you go from so filthy to so cheesy" you whined, feeling him hit spots in you that made your vision blur momentarily. "make up your mind."

you barely registered the dreamy grin on his face as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you against his chest while he rolled his hips up into yours. "you're the most beautiful person i've ever met."

"no, you."

"i'm serious," he said, finding your eyes. "i'm so lucky to have you."

you blinked as you tried to think of a worthy response, only to have your thoughts interrupted by jeonghan rutting up into you again.

"i love that you pretend to be asleep when i wake up so that i can keep cuddling you," he said, catching your lips between words and thrusts. "i love the way you drink beer like it's the most satisfying thing in the world."

"j-jeongh-"

"shh," he said, smiling against your lips, continuing his steady hip rolling, pushing himself into all the spots that made you whine. you moaned, and he ate it up, his tongue gliding across your lips. "i'm not done."

your vision was starting to get fuzzy around the edges as you felt the tension coil in your gut. "i'm about to be," you said, dropping your face into his neck. "you're hitting me too deep."

"yeah, baby? you're gonna cum?" he leaned back against a hand and let you take the control you desperately wanted, rolling your hips against him in a way that hit your g-spot and stimulated your clit, and you gasped when he pinched at your nipple. "you look so good like this. fucking yourself on me."

your nails dug into his shoulders as you moaned out his name, riding out your orgasm on his lap. jeonghan watched you intently, like you were his favorite movie. the movie he could put on no matter what mood he was in. the movie he had memorized but never wanted to stop watching. he kissed you as you came down, rubbing your back under the oversized shirt. your hips stuttered on his, and he bit back a groan. his cock felt so hard in you he thought it might shatter if it went on like this for much longer.

you were still trying to catch your breath when you felt him twitch in you. you pressed your forehead against his. "mm, go ahead, baby."

"are you sure?" he asked, looking at you. "you're ready?'

you nodded, a hand on the back of his neck. he kissed you quickly and helped his shirt off your frame before falling back and bringing you with him, pulling a giggle from your lips as he rolled you over onto your back and hiked your thighs up around his hips. despite the fact that he never fully pulled out, you still sighed when he pushed back into you, overstimulated stretch morphing into continued pleasure far too quickly. 

jeonghan stayed like that a moment, parked with his hips between your thighs, hilt deep in your pussy, his elbows hooked under your knees, one hand on your waist and the other keeping him from putting all his weight on you. he loved the way you stared up at him, eyebrows ruffled slightly at your full cunt. he pushed into you a few more times like that before unhooking your legs, wrapping one arm around your waist and the other hand finding your jaw. your arms went to his neck again, pulling him into a kiss as he pumped himself into you.

"fuck," he groaned, biting at your lip. "god, your pussy is out of this world."

he kept burying himself in you completely, and even then tried to push his hips further into yours. he bit at your shoulder, hair sticking to the sweat accumulating on his forehead.

"you fit me so perfectly," jeonghan said, lifting his head to look at you. his thumb drifted across your jawline to your lips, and you instinctively parted them let your tongue roll out and wet the pad of his thumb. he groaned again, one eye squinting slightly as he focused on your tongue, remembering the way it felt along his cock. "we were made for each other, i think."

"you're so-" you started, but your post orgasm haze made it hard to form coherent sentences, especially when you were still getting fucked. "you're being so-"

"sweet?" jeonghan asked, kissing against your jawline. "romantic?"

"annoying," you said facetiously, earning a laugh against your neck. "i miss the days when you would call me a slut and leave while i was sleeping."

the kisses trailed back up your neck, and you whined as he began to pick up his pace. "sorry, i'm just so full of love these days."

"well," you interrupted yourself with a moan as your body began reacting more to his movement. "i'm full of dick."

jeonghan smiled again, but this one is covered almost completely by your lips on his, desperate and needy. an elbow kept him from laying completely on top of you, the same hand caressing your jaw gently as his lips worked against yours. you couldn't help the quiet squeak that escaped every time he bottomed out into you, and he wished he could have the image of you absolutely fucked out of your mind beneath him etched into his memory forever.

luckily, he saw it enough that it might as well be.

"i love it when you wear my clothes," he said. "i love the way you walk when you know i'm watching."

you gasped when his teeth dragged across your pulse. "not the neck, baby. i'm working on a really important case."

"mmm, so focused on your career." he smiled as he kissed further down and settled to leave a hickey on your collarbone, running a hand down your body. "god, everything about you is so sexy."

your back arched into his touch. "your dirty talk keeps getting weirder the longer we're together."

"what can i say? you turned me into someone that's horny for stability." that pulled a giggle from you, which quickly turned to a moan when he pushed his needy member into you again. "your body is so perfect against mine. i love every centimetre."

you couldn't help but think about all the times he had proven just that, fingers tracing over your sensitive skin while he lapped at your dripping folds. squeezing your thighs as he pushed his tongue into you. or when he had you on your stomach, caging you in with your tight cunt full of cock, a hand lifting your hip off the bed to get a better angle as he bit your shoulder. 

as your brain whirred with filthy thoughts of past fun, jeonghan groaned and sucked a nipple between his lips. you gripped his hair, knowing he felt every squeeze of your walls in reaction to his touch.

"you know what i love?" he said, releasing his mouth from your chest and kissing your lips instead. "i love when you greet me at the door. you know i'll get in just fine but you still come to the door."

you thought he was timing his thrusts to stop you from responding when your mouth opened just to let out a moan. "i missed you."

"i missed you, too, baby." your ankles hooked around each other behind his back. "i missed your perfect body and your smart mouth."

"jeonghan," you gasped slightly. "p-please don't stop."

he moaned, pulling you as closely against him as he could. "i love you when you laugh," he whispered, eyes screwing shut. "you're like an angel. so beautiful and sweet. but god, i love it when you're mean, too."

you wanted to say something about his words sounding familiar, but the thoughts disappeared before they could reach your mouth.

"remember when i visited your office," he said, recalling the saturday eons ago, one of the first times you had met up without the intention of blowing off some steam sexually. even with a mask and a bucket hat on, your assistant had recognized him immediately, making you threaten her with your law degree to make sure she didn't spread any rumors about the idol. "there was barely anyone around but you were still wearing slacks and a button up. i think i fell in love with you just by watching you work that day."

"oh, god, jeonghan," you whimpered. "fuck, i'm going to cum again."

"yeah you are, baby." jeonghan snaked a hand between you to press against your clit, the movement of his hips crashing into yours forcing his thumb to rub against the sensitive nub. you gripped his hair, nails digging into the back of his neck. "cum for me, sweetheart."

your want to please him won easily against your tired body, especially with how worked up he had managed to get you, and you practically rattled against him as he fucked into you. you grabbed the sides of his face and moaned into the kiss, and it only took seconds of your walls pulsing around his cock before he was stuttering his hips and unloading into the condom.

when his lips pulled away from yours, you were both breathing heavily with a light sheen of sweat making you sparkle in the dim lighting of your bedroom. he buried his face in your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist completely and settling into you. "ok goodnight."

you laughed, your hand running through jeonghan's hair as you cuddled. "goodnight," you said, knowing he would roll off you too soon to discard the condom and find some water. you twisted a bit of his hair around your fingers, sighing happily, enjoying the feeling of him in you while you could. 

"baby," he said, voice muffled from being pressed into the crook of your neck. "do you wanna order takeout?"

you laughed. "i thought you said you ate?"

jeonghan pulled away to grin at you. "i've been known to tell a white lie every once in a while." you laughed, letting out a small noise when he pulled out of you to discard the condom in your bathroom. "especially when i have really good motive."

you laid on your side, watching him flick the light on and off to find the garbage can. "i love you."

"yeah?" after discarding a tissue he used to quickly clean himself up a bit, he hurried himself back to your side, sliding into your bed next to you. "how much?"

you sat up, looking for where he had discarded the shirt you were wearing. "just enough to get you dinner. what do you want?"

"hmm," he traced your spine with his fingertips. "black bean noodles."

you rolled your eyes, crawling over him to get out of bed and grabbed the shirt he came in. "you always want black bean noodles," you said, pulling it over your head, tugging at the black fabric and showing it off to him.

jeonghan smiled as he watched you. "that one place you always order from. they don't deliver to the new dorms."

"ah," you said, finding your underwear and tossing jeonghan's towards him. "you're using me for my address."

he laughed and sat up to pull on the undergarment. "that and the mindblowing sex."

you laughed, brushing your fingers through your hair as you left the bedroom to retrieve your phone and place the order. "you're lucky you're pretty."

when you returned with your phone and leaned against the doorframe, jeonghan was pulling on a pair of his shorts that he had gotten from your closet. he grabbed the shirt you had been wearing from the bed, shoving his feet into his slippers and shuffling towards you. you smiled at him as you waited for the restaurants in your area to load in app, searching for the place he had talked about.

"do you want anything else?" you asked, letting him snake an arm around your waist and plant a kiss on your lips.

"mmmmmm, no, i don't think so. you're everything i need."

you squinted at him. "extra radish? soondae?"

he squinted back. "okay, just prove me wrong, then."

you giggled, poking at his bare chest before pulling away to continue the dinner order. "i wanted soondae."

"hey, i thought you were buying me dinner."

you tossed your phone on the couch after the order sent, jeonghan's arms around your hips encumbering you as you laughed and tried to walk away from him, the shirt he had intended to put on getting abandoned on the floor. "yeah, and i'm also letting you sleep in my bed tonight. and feeding you in the morning. and driving you to work tomorrow. start thanking me."

"thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou-"

you practically snorted, pushing on his chest as he made kissy faces at you. "god, you're so annoying!"

jeonghan laughed, pulling at your waist until he could secure his arms under your butt, lifting you off the floor. "i love you thank you i love you!"

"where's this energy coming from?" you split your knees to wrap around jeonghan's waist. he turned to sit on the couch with you on his lap, making you frantically grab your phone as he sat half on it. "haven't you been practicing all day?"

he smiled, hands running up and down your thighs and over your ass. "i was getting so burnt out without you around. i feel alive again."

you pouted. "you can't say stuff like that."

"why?" he kept smiling at you. "it's true. you are my energy."

something in your chest fluttered, making you blush. you thought about all the long days of work and all the long nights you had spent without him. how tired you always felt. how much your mood increased just by seeing the message from him earlier. "shut up. you're mine, too."

he grinned even wider. "do you wanna visit the new dorms? i'm almost done decorating my room."

"does it look exactly like your old room?"

he kept facing you, but his eyes darted to the left. "no."

you giggled, your hands finding his neck and placing a quick kiss on his lips. "i'd love to. when will you be home?"

"next weekend?" it would be the last free sunday he'd have for a while. "i can hide you. you could stay over."

you sighed. "your managers are gonna be so sick of us."

"it's fun though, right?" he laughed. "sneaking around like teenagers."

"at least we don't have to fuck in cars," you teased, checking the delivery time on your phone. "fifteen minutes."

"mmm, however shall we fill the time?"

you rolled your eyes, but smiled against his lips nonetheless.

[pleasewriteusernamehere]

ok so we know liet lived at poland’s house for a bit to help recover from the soviet era but what if for some soviet torture reason or bc he has nightmares abt russia’s house and needs help grounding himself, poland starts waking him up with random facts about themselves only they would know to reassure liet that it’s actually him

like he tried to wake liet up the first or second morning he’s back with “hey, sleepyhead, wake up. it’s poland, don’t worry, you’re okay”, but lithuania just curls up tighter into a ball and tries to protect his head, and it makes poland worry but he brushes it off, because maybe he’ll need a couple of days, until like the fifth time the same thing happens. poland asks about it and liet kinda explains what’s up with him, vaguely, so thst poland understands but he doesn’t have to think too much about russia

and the next morning, he hears poland’s voice - he still flinches whenever he’s touched unless he’s warned first, so shaking his shoulder is out of the question - being really soft, going

“hey liet, its me, poland. you learnt to play the lute when we were kids to try serenading me, and you like making your own jam and thank god you do because you have way too much of it on toast and your hair always gets in your face in battle but you’re also worried that it might be bad luck to tie it back so you can never decide what to do with it”

and liet’s finally reassured and probably starts crying fuck it, bc he can wake up feeling safe for the first time in decades (cue cuddles and adorable fluff and “on the note of jam on toast, I brought you breakfast in bed, sorry the jam’s store bought”)

the facts are sometimes about liet, sometimes poland, sometimes their childhood or relationship

the next morning it’s

“wake up, it’s poland, my favourite food is pierogi and I find it easiest to read printed documents on pink paper and one time I dropped my ring in a river and you jumped in to get it back for me and afterwards we had to swap clothes so you wouldn’t get in trouble and you looked really good in my clothes but I didn’t say anything about it”

it’s soft, and ends with one/both blushing and “I love you”s but most importantly lithuania knows he can’t be hurt and he’s with someone that cares about him, and that poland was actually listening to a lot of the stuff he hadn’t seemed to be

one morning it’s “... and I learnt to be a winged hussar because I thought you’d think I looked cool and...”

later that day, liet looks up from his coffee and goes “po, you really became a winged hussar to impress me?”

in return there’s a soft and embarrassed “maybe... did it work?”

later, when lithuania’s back on his feet more, they start doing it for each other and it becomes a kind of ritual, a way of showing the other how much they appreciate them and getting them to wake up in a pleasant mood, or to tease each other

liet will use “you love baking and you’re amazing at cookies and cakes but you can never successfully do banana bread no matter what recipe you use”

the next week it’s “hey liet, you deliberately let latvia beat you in chess one time and it’s eaten you inside ever since because he keeps beating you for real now”

a month later, far too early, there’s a “wake up poland, you said that the next meeting you went to you wanted to be exactly four minutes and twenty seconds early than estonia so you’ve been planning on getting there at 9:25:40am for the last 3 weeks”

one day, it’s “morning liet, it’s poland, when we first met, you were wearing a really frilly coat that you looked super uncomfortable in and I realised that I was seriously, properly in love with you when you came up behind prussia in that war and I’ve been trying to work out how to best say this for a long time, and I can’t get it right, but I want to marry you”

I’m so so sorry it’s 2am and I can’t stop thinking about ✨them✨

(a lot of the ideas about them as kids are from the fantastic @kyuhu, who does incredible lietpol and hetalia art! the rest is either canonically stated or my own dumb headcanons)

[90slevi]

Late-Night Talks {Levi x Reader}

TW: threats of violence, cursing (all canon-typical)

It was the middle of the night. You were supposed to be in bed and resting, ready for another day of intense training to prepare for the upcoming expedition, but you couldn't sleep. Too many thoughts littered your brain, and an unexpected fear flooded your veins. Despite being one of the best soldiers on the Squad (Levi's Squad, too), you were constantly filled with anxieties and worries. Not about yourself, though. Ever since you'd joined, you were prepared to die whenever you left Wall Rose. But... you weren't ready to watch another one of your friends be eaten at the hands of a monster.

Sitting in one of the trees outside the dorm building, you looked up at the sky to see it littered with stars, not a cloud in sight. It was also a full moon, and you hoped that it was a sign that nobody would die on this expedition, which was a stupid thought because at least ten people always died. Ever since you were a kid, you'd wanted to know the mysteries past the walls. There was so much more to life than just sitting inside Wall Sina eating bread and watching people live in boredom, so that's why you'd joined the Cadets.

You'd never been prepared for the mental and emotional trauma that came with it, though.

You were quickly shaken out of your daydream, however, when a very authoritative yet all-too-familiar voice shouted for you at the bottom of the tree.

"Oi, Soldier, get down from there," Captain Levi demanded, a hint of tiredness laced in his strict tone. You sighed and looked down, your eyebrows raised at him without saying a word. You knew Levi hated it when he was ignored, especially by someone in the inferior ranks, but you weren't too bothered.

You were close, after all. Maybe a little bit... too close.

"Hey, are you deaf?" he asked, still unable to notice who it was due to the darkness. "I said-"

"Yeah, I heard you," you responded with a sigh, spinning around on the branch you were sat on so you could properly look at him. Levi gave you a quick glare before aiming his manoeuver gear up at the tree and shooting so he was right next to you. "What's up?"

"'What's up'?" Levi repeated, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "I should be asking you that. It's 2 in the morning, get back to your dorm."

"I can't sleep," you shrugged, gesturing at your black pyjamas you were still wearing. Instead of using gear as Levi had, you'd chosen to simply climb the tree, something you'd done since you were little. "Thought I'd come out here and look at the stars or something."

Sighing, the black-haired Captain shook his head and reluctantly sat down beside you, deciding it was no use in telling you to come down. He also couldn't be bothered to drag you down by force. It was clear the both of you were tired; he was too lazy to raise his voice and you had obvious bags underneath your eyes.

Plus, he didn't really enforce the rules on you.

If it was someone like Eren Jaeger or one of the 'brats' who'd just moved up from the trainees, he would've either forced them down or booted them off the tree, but he liked you. The two of you got along incredibly well and were often seen spending time together alone by other cadets, who assumed at first that the two of you were in a relationship. Levi didn't exactly like this rumour and shut them up instantly with a swift kick in the shins, but began to realise he did feel some sort of way towards you that he didn't with other people. And it was the same for you, too.

Unlike Levi, you'd actually felt romantic attraction to people before, despite it only being once and swearing on your life you'd never do it again, so at least you knew what it felt like. After the two of you discussing a possible relationship, you'd decided to not get together in fear of what could happen if one of you were in danger or, even worse, killed. Emotional connections weren't the best thing to occur in the Survey Corps, because you could confess your love one day and then be brutally squashed the next day by a Titan. And although it was highly unlikely that Levi was dying anytime soon, you weren't as skilled as he was and had almost been killed on multiple occasions already.

This didn't exactly stop the two of you from feeling that way towards each other, however.

"You look tired," Levi said, his voice much softer now. You nodded, a small smile on your face. "You can always visit me, you know. When you can't sleep."

"I could," you chuckled, looked down at the ground as your legs hung dangerously off the side of the branch. "But others would definitely get the wrong impression. Plus, I don't think it's exactly... right for a soldier to visit their captain in the middle of the night."

"Who cares?" Levi muttered, rolling his eyes and making your smile widen at his attitude. "I can always make you tea to help you sleep."

"I think the only way I'd be able to sleep was if you knocked me out," you replied, your memories going back to the time Levi had actually made you unconscious just so you could get a wink of sleep. It was something the two of you had laughed about afterward, but at the time... it wasn't really that fun. Plagued with nightmares and waking up crying, Levi couldn't figure out anything other than booting you in the head to get you to have even an hour of sleep. Levi scoffed at your comment and cracked his knuckles.

"I can do that if you wish," he said, and you grimaced, holding your hands up.

"I'd rather not," you answered, remembering the issues you'd had. "You nearly gave me a concussion, and I had that bump on the back of my head for nearly a week!"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you'd got brain damage," he mumbled off-handedly, and you playfully hit him in the shoulder. "Oi!"

"I sometimes wonder if YOU'RE the one with brain damage," you teased, and he hit you back. You pouted at him, and he gave you the classic Levi-glare you were all too used to now.

"If that's what I've got, then putting up with you is what gave it me," Levi threw back, and you gasped dramatically, falling backward. His eyes widened in surprise, one of his arms automatically reaching out to catch you, but you were fine. All you were doing was hanging upside down from the branch, using only your legs as support as you swung dangerously. It was something you'd done for years, so it was fine, but clearly, Levi wasn't used to it. "Doing that will definitely give you brain damage. Get back up here!"

"You're just using that as an excuse because you're scared, aren't you?" you giggled, pulling yourself back up to safety and adjusting your pyjama top. Even if your shirt had risen early, you didn't mind; Levi had seen your body before, so it wasn't like it was something sacred you had to hide. "Awh, is Levi scared that I'm gonna fall?"

"You just looked like a total idiot, that's all," he shrugged, rolling his eyes again as he looked away. You adored teasing him; it completely tore away that tough persona he liked to put on in front of the Cadets and other soldiers and showed a much more vulnerable, real version of the man you cared about so much. "And I don't exactly fancy having one of my best soldiers having a broken bone or two only two weeks before the expedition."

That word. Expedition.

You went silent, your heart racing as you were reminded so suddenly of the impending doom you were so close to experiencing again. Gulping, you began to sub-consciously nibble at your thumb, and Levi noticed your anxieties pretty much instantly.

Ah, so that's why you're up here.

"Maybe that was your intention," Levi said calmly, raising an eyebrow. "To break a bone supposedly by accident so you don't have to go on the expedition. Coward."

"As if I'd ever do that!" you exclaimed, a little louder than you'd intended. The Captain cocked his head with his eyebrows raised, almost judging you until you were able to tell him the truth. He may be cruel with his way of getting information out of people, but he was determined to do it. That way, he could actually help you instead of giving meaningless hope and compliments that were bound to do nothing in the long run. "I'm just... a little scared, that's all."

"It's funny that you think you're the only one," Levi scoffed, rather surprised that you were so nervous you were hiding away. Usually, you came to him with your problems, trusting him enough to share even the stupidest of things, but this was... odd. Either you were absolutely terrified or there was another thing you weren't telling him. "I bet the Cadets are absolutely shitting themselves. C'mon, there's something else, isn't there?"

"And what will you do if I don't tell you?"

"Beat the shit out of you."

You snorted before looking down at your feet. As unlikely as it was that Levi would even lay a menacing hand on you, you wouldn't be surprised if he actually did go on his word just to get the information out. He was caring... in a very strange way. But you didn't mind; the two of you were just as good as each other at hand-to-hand combat, so it'd be a challenge for him to properly harm you as he did with the Cadets and lower ranks.

"You'll laugh at me."

"Have I ever laughed at you, brat?"

"Yes."

Levi was silent, trying to recall the last time he'd ever even laughed, never mind at you. Although... there was one time where he'd made fun of you for something pretty dumb, and then there was another time when he chuckled at you when you dropped a piece of bread and flipped it off, and then-

Okay, you'd made him laugh more times than he'd like to admit. But that wasn't the point.

"That's a lie," he ironically lied, his face still as blunt as ever despite joking around. It was something you surprisingly liked about Levi; his dry sense of humour was just as dry as he acted, and it suited him well. "Now, brat, tell me."

"It's just the same old stuff, really," you shrugged, sighing as you looked up at the sky. You had no idea what time it was, only that it was between 2am and 4am just by glancing at the moon and knew you ought to get at least a bit of sleep. You yawned, and Levi noticed. "It's stupid because I know for a fact it'll happen every time I leave these walls, but I don't want people I know to die. Especially those I care about."

"Tch, everyone feels like that," Levi said, thankful it wasn't anything more serious. Just the average 'I don't want people to die' talk. "Even Eyebrows, which is shocking, I know."

"I know, but..." you trailed off, not wanting to talk about your worries about Levi. He had the most dangerous part of the whole expedition in the next two weeks and although you knew he could take it, there was still an incline of worry that spread across your body like a parasite. Sighing, you yawned again, pressing your palms into your eyes to try and rub the sleep out of your eyes. Levi raised his eyebrows and put his hand firmly on your thigh.

"Well, if you're not gonna tell me, then you're going to bed," he insisted, standing up and holding his hand out for you to take. Reluctantly, you rolled your eyes and took it, being pulled to your feet and pulled into his side. "And if that means knocking you the fuck out, then so be it."

"And what if I don't wake up in time?" you asked, watching as Levi shot into the ground with his gear and pulled you with him. He sighed, grabbing harshly onto your wrist so you didn't run away.

"Then you'll have to train even harder when you do," he said bluntly, and you groaned in disapproval, trying to ignore the slight pain in your wrist he was causing. "Because I'm not having your stupidity and exhaustion cost you your life. Got it?"

"Got it," you muttered, pouting as he dragged you up the stairs in the dorm building. It appeared that he was taking you to his room to make sure you actually slept instead of sneaking back out of your window. Although, you didn't mind spending the night with Levi. Even if the two of you didn't sleep, you still ended up having late-night talks and even at some points drinking. Luckily, he had a very high alcohol tolerance, being able to drink over a bottle without showing he had done in the morning. You, on the other hand, weren't so tolerant... "God, people would think you've been hired to look after me or something."

"It feels like that 90% of the time," he replied, and you grinned, entering his room.

Once again, it was just as spotless as last time you'd been in there. It was constantly organised, with his bed covered in crisp white sheets and a pile of papers displayed neatly on his mahogany desk. Books stood in alphabetical order on his bookcase, completely dust-free, and his curtains were closed symmetrically over his window. Two lit candles sat on his desk, presumably lit just before he went to fetch you, and his green cloak lay folded-up over the side of his sofa. It was a comfortable room, and one you really enjoyed visiting.

"So, am I knocking you out, or are you gonna sleep, Y/n?" Levi threatened, flopping down onto his sofa as he unbuckled his gear. For someone who only got two hours of sleep per night if he was lucky, it was pretty hypocritical that he was trying to get you to go to bed. It was also nice to hear him call you by your first name for once, instead of a stupid nickname like 'brat' or 'dumbass'. "Choose quickly, because I'd quite like to finish the book I was reading."

"I think I'd rather sleep without getting punched in the face," you answered with a grin, flopping down onto his bed that you'd slept in multiple times before. For some reason, it was always comfier than the bed you had in your dorm room, and despite not being a double bed, it managed to fit the two of you in easily if you both wanted to share.

Then again, you both weren't the tallest of people.

"Yeah, that's the better option," Levi sighed, sinking calmly into his sofa as he pulled off his boots and tucked them beside the door. The room was silent for a few minutes as you closed your eyes on top of his bed, not even underneath the duvet. It was still unlikely you'd sleep much, as there was a lot on your mind, but at least you were resting. Then, Levi's voice entered the room. "You're not going to sleep, are you?"

"Not really," you muttered, your eyes cracking open. You stared at the ceiling, hearing the man's footsteps walk over and eventually stop. Turning your head, you noticed he was squatting beside the bed, his face pretty much right next to yours. His expression was much softer now as he watched your eyes move, and he reached up to brush your hair from out of your face.

"I'm not an idiot, I know there's more on your mind than just the stupid expedition, Y/n," he said quietly, a stern tone to his voice despite being calmer than usual. You hesitated before looking away, rubbing your face as you tried to gather your thoughts. Unlike usual, you had no idea what had you so on-edge, and you couldn't explain it to Levi if you tried. "And if you don't want to tell me, then that's fine. But you really need to sleep, because I don't want my next dead recruit to be you."

That was it. That was what was on your mind.

You'd never really gotten over your feelings for Levi; you'd just pushed them to the back of your mind until you hopefully forgot about it, but it was impossible. Every time you were in his room, every time you even spoke to him, and every time he looked out for you just deepened your feelings, and it stressed you out. You didn't want to love someone, especially while the two of you were in the Survey Corps. And the fact he made sure you weren't at the risk of dying, more than he looked out for the other Cadets and Soldiers, showed he felt the same. A small smile appeared on your face.

The world was cruel. Too cruel.

"Well then, goodnight, Levi," you said softly, reaching your hand up as you brushed his hair out of his eyes as he'd done to you just a minute ago. You then lifted your legs up and tucked them under the duvet before closing your eyes. You knew Levi was confused, but it was better for him to be like that than to be crushed with you admitting your feelings all over again. "I'll maybe tell you soon, I dunno. But for now, I'm gonna get some sleep. Feel free to join me!"

You heard Levi 'tch' under his breath with a small sound of amusement before he walked back to the sofa. He also mumbled something inaudible to you, but you didn't really care.

Although you couldn't do anything about it, you were glad you'd finally come to terms with your worries.

If only Levi could too.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Passion Project (2/4)

Summary:

“Ignoring Hange Zoe had become a little passion project he allowed himself to indulge in, in between expeditions and quietly mourning unnecessary deaths in the battlefield.”

Levi tries to ignore Hange but it never seems to last. A ficlet detailing the development of Levi and Hange’s relationship before canon.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Link to other chapters: 1 3 4

A fractured ankle, fractured ribs... for a month....

The important thing is he's alive. Fighting thirty titans… death for most soldiers.

It would be a shame to lose him… We don't get soldiers like that everyday.

The voices were distant but they were the first coherent sounds Levi made out as he adjusted to the waking world. His first instinct after making sense of it was to sit up, only to be greeted by a dull pain and a taut sensation around his chest.

He looked down to see bandages woven tightly around his chest, leaving him almost completely immobile on the bed. Even if he did get to sit up, his numb ankle would have made standing up a tall order.

"You're finally awake."

Levi settled for turning his head to his right. The lights in the room were dim and his vision relied on the faint light emitting from the room to make out the shape of the person by his bedside. "Hange…How long…"

"You were asleep for three days and you'll probably be here for a month." Hange was quick to answer his questions.

Levi was grateful for it. His throat was dry and just the first two questions had already left him burnt out.

"I’ll call Erwin and Commander Keith in.” Hange stood up and turned towards the door. “You woke up at a good time. They’ve been busy with preparations for the next expedition so they’ve only had time to visit for an hour a day.”

After engaging in conversations in hushed voices just outside his hospital room, Hange reentered the room, their two superiors following behind her. The conversation was short and formal and only served to repeat what Levi had overheard outside just a second ago.

One month in the hospital.

Forget about the next few expeditions.

You did a good job against 30 titans.

Levi had attempted a nod the first time, only for his head to protest that subtle movement.

The two were possibly being understanding or were just a little too busy that day. Regardless, as soon as they deemed Levi updated enough of the current events, they left and once again, it was just Hange and Levi in the room.

Hange spoke up. "I thought you were amazing out there."

Her praises were nothing new. Levi found himself more surprised by the fact that the young brunette's voice was much softer than usual as if it was her way of adjusting to the natural silence of the sick room.

Levi kept his eyes trained on Hange and the latter looked to be aware of it. She moved the stool by the bedside and sat on it.

"I managed to count them before their bodies dissolved. Thirty titans…" It was as if Hange had run out of air at those last two words. "You're really something else..." Her voice was definitely softer, but the tone was the same as it always was. It was that same tone that rang so painfully in his ears that first time they met. Oddly, it was starting to sound like music to his ears then.

"But you used too much gas. Maybe I should be giving you a lesson on that." And just like that, with one sentence and one smirk, Levi witnessed the return of that grating tone.

“And how often did you visit?” Levi asked, in an attempt to digress from that topic in particular. The last thing he wanted while stuck in bed was a lecture on carelessness. That ordeal was more than enough of a lesson.

Hange smiled. “I left a few times?”

“You left a few times? You mean you left this room a few times?”

“Yeah?”

“So you don’t visit. You just stay here and…” Levi let his eyes finish that sentence for him.

Hange made no attempt to deny it. She put one hand behind her head and sheepishly looked away. “The hospital room gets pretty quiet and it’s easier to focus here.” She explained.

Levi looked to the side table to see what looked to be books and documents, quickly shifting his attention elsewhere before she saw what could have been disappointment in his eyes. He shouldn’t have been disappointed though. He should have been relieved that her hanging out in his hospital room wasn’t at all motivated by some complex short of what one would see in a stalker. Despite that, he wished she had been there for him.

“Have you showered since then?” At that point, Levi was just looking for ways to take out his own frustrations. He was sure of her answer before she even said it.

Or chose to avoid saying it. “I didn’t have time…”

“You’re fucking disgusting. This is a hospital, you’re just gonna get everyone here sicker with your shitty hygiene habits.” Levi painfully turned to his side, biting back in the process. “Go home and shower,” he managed to say. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Hey! I’ve been waiting for you to wake up and now you’re going to kick me out like this….”

Somehow her annoying protests had made that painful movement all the more worth it. He managed to unearth some scraps of amusement from her momentary fit that fizzled out to a quiet disappointment that had her leaving the room grumbling.

A combination of foot stomping and whiny protests were enough to get Levi's lips curled up and into a subtle smile. She couldn't see that at least from where she stood.

Depriving Hange of those little things she visibly wanted turned out to still be as satisfying as it had been before. And with nothing much else to think then, surrounded by plain white walls, Levi couldn't help but remember the passion project he had started so many months ago.

And it still burned strong, strong enough for him to feel a glimmer of victory at having to hear hushed hissy monologues and footsteps too heavy and loud to have been anyone in a good mood.

The glimmer dissipated faster than Levi had expected and he was immediately reminded that he was alone with just his thoughts.

And he couldn't help but reflect on the fact that Hange's presence would have made his thoughts all the more interesting to engage in.

She'll be back. He told no one in particular. It was a difficult pull to swallow. Alone with not much to do but stare at the blank white ceiling, Levi reflected. And with that reflection came a begrudging realization.

He preferred her there.

                                    Passion Project

The recovery didn't take a month as the doctor said it would have. Within a few days Levi was sitting up. Within another week he was walking, if not limping out of the room. And within two weeks of waking up, Levi was back in the barracks, finding a way to make himself useful among the bustle of preparations for the next exhibition.

Erwin wasn't letting Levi near ODM gear any time soon though. Although Levi was sure he could have gone through a lot of the training on land with at least bearable pain, flying through the air, while keeping one's balance through only cables and gas was another story.

The prospect of exposing their best soldier at an injured state to the danger of titans seemed a little too excessive for Erwin and despite Levi's quick healing, he was still barred from joining the next expedition.

"Why don't you join the research and logistics team for now? I'm sure they'll need some extra hands since they've been working on new anti-titan weapons."

That meant spending all the more time with Hange.

Levi shouldn't have expected any different. Yet somehow he was surprised. The shock possibly only appended by the fact that while he was still in the process of accepting this new arrangement, he had encountered Hange in the lab in the wee hours of morning. No one really expects anyone in the lab at 2am.

He had gone there in particular to survey his new environment without having to exchange pleasantries with anyone from the research and logistics team. He had expected a thirty minute visit at the most to just see what experiments they have been working on and any records to make the process of a first meeting them a little more bearable.

The room wasn't empty. To make it all the better, the only person there at two in the morning wasn't someone he would have explained pleasantries with anyway. Her presence never implicitly demanded that level of politeness after all.

In fact, it tended to naturally elicit the opposite reaction from Levi. "Why the fuck are you doing here so early in the morning?"

He had said it too more roughly than he had intended. She had been a little too focused on mixing a colorful formula on a glass beaker and he had so quickly assumed he wouldn't have gotten her attention any other way. Or possibly, he had just been in the process of stifling a little frustration when he had said that which manifested in that rough tone he had called her out with.

It turned out, she didn't even notice that greeting he overthought.

"Hey four-eyes!" Levi hissed, as loudly as what would have been socially acceptable in the wee hours of morning

To only further add to his frustration, Hange's gradual shift to reality had been slow. When she looked up at him, Levi was sure she wasn't even looking directly at him.

"Oh… Levi!" She managed to say, a few long seconds after they first made eye contact, or at least the first time Levi initiated what should have been eye contact. "It's been a while."

It had been a while. Three days before he had been discharged, Hange had stopped visiting. He had only been discharged two days ago. Which put their last meeting to more than five days ago, a long time when compared to the fact that she had spent every day in the hospital with him.

WIth the sudden shift in Hange’s behavior, Levi put himself through unnecessary torture of attributing it to that one night he decided to ignore her so she could shower, despite the fact that she still had come back every day since then. Erwin had visited after that, even Commander Keith and even the squad he had saved in the last expedition. He had been tempted to ask where Hange was, ultimately deciding against it. His emotional investment in Hange seemed one secret he would rather have kept to himself.

But, by god it was torturous. Although at face value Hange seemed like an open book with the way she was constantly flitting between emotional extremes, Levi eventually realized she wasn't.

Surface level emotions were open for the world to see. With the amount of time he spent overthinking every action she had ever made back in the hospital room, from those long tirades about new experiments to the new black tea her parents would be sending over to the plans for the next expedition , Levi realized there was still a layer of Hange he hadn’t peeled back yet. Behind the heart she wore on her sleeve were emotions, motivations and desires she hadn’t shown anyone yet or possibly did not understand herself. He felt it in every single tirade of passion she threw at his face. The passion seemed true, the words seemed authentic but there was a nagging feeling inside him that he still had a lot to learn about the crazy brunette.

Because of that, Levi had found her to be incredibly unpredictable, only further supported by the fact that she had failed to visit him his last three days in the hospital, not bothering either to have greeted him after he had settled back in the barracks. It wasn’t like she was obligated either.

Either way, he found himself having to seek comfort in the predictability of watching Hange go through the motions of mixing chemical after chemical. After their too casual and maybe too brusque of an exchange, Levi had settled on a stool and quietly watched. She had been too focused to kick him out anyway.

"You know how signal flares have this tendency to malfunction in the rain?” It was Hange who spoke up first despite having been too focused on her little experiments.

“Yeah?” That was all Levi could say. Maybe if Hange had started with any other topic, he probably would have said anything more. That question had reopened old wounds, and it was constantly rubbing salt on them as he waited for Hange to continue. He had always suspected the malfunctioning of signal flares to have caused the death of Isabel and Farlan during their first mission outside the walls.

“I think I found a way to get the signal flares to show even during rainy days. Maybe, if we could get this working, we might be able to prevent unnecessary deaths in future missions.” Hange went for a beaker, mixed a few chemicals together which incited a mini green explosion in front of him. “This could save lives…”

Despite the water Hange had sprayed all over the green of the air, the green remained glowing and strong and the whole show had him speechless.

She shouldn't have known. The way she had so gracefully gone through all the procedure so methodically yet so deftly, in the way Levi never would have been able to replicate had him only staring, his mouth agape.

The color green had never looked so comforting until then. The whole time the green smoke stayed in the air before dissipating into anything, Levi felt like he could have been in a dream.

It had him forgetting whether or not she had eventually probed on the unfortunate deaths of his two best friends.

He ended up opening up about it anyway.

                                       Passion Project

Levi still wasn't allowed to do combat training but Hange was.

And Hange had enough enthusiasm about ODM gear for them both. In that one moment after long hours in the lab, an hour before the sun was to set, that enthusiasm was what had her pulling Levi back into the woods as if the day had just started.

There was less reason to hide behind the excuse of "I'm too tired" given that Levi couldn’t actually train and he never had much to contribute in the lab aside from odd jobs. It's not like he ever employed that excuse anyway.

With his lack of reason to be tired, Levi resigned himself to spending days after training watching Hange go through ODM drills.

"Your cables are everywhere. A titan can just grab onto that if you're not careful.” Levi said. “As soon as your up in the air, just use your gas. It gets you to your target faster than with the cables."

"Should you be telling this to me after you ran out of gas and almost died?"

That was enough once of a comment once again to silence Levi momentarily. Hange didn't stop to assess the effects of that one comment though, having busied herself trying to mimic Levi's ODM movements. Hange had taken for her own one of the larger oak trees in the forest where they practiced. The tree trunk was gnarled and branches stuck out so randomly, Levi had to agree it was a good way to practice.

Even unmoving, the tree was an unpredictable target. It had numerous branches surrounding it that only twisted and turned so wildly that Levi could feel the beginnings of a headache as he attempted to follow each one. If he squinted a little harder, he could even pretend it was a titan.

Hange probably did have a swell time pretending it was a titan. He could hear it in the loud and swift whizzing of chords, the characteristic explosion that came with the release of gas and of course, the excited screams.

You were amazing out there. Hange had said, while a little breathless only a few weeks ago. Levi was never one to take in compliments and had clocked that to a little bout of maybe asthma on her side. Or maybe she had forgotten to take in some oxygen before she said it.

At that moment though, he understood the breathlessness that accompanied amazement. The branches grew so close together that Hange only had the luxury of gaps small enough for maybe only one person to pass through. Hange had whizzed past each branch, dodging them so gracefully, while barely leaving an opening big enough for even an insect to squeeze through.

With the chaotic pattern ---or at least lack of pattern--- at which the gnarled branches spread out, Levi couldn't help but see an artistic dance in it all, and a rhythm to follow. The art, the spectacle that only he that late afternoon had the luxury of witnessing, had him forgetting to breathe.

And he only did breathe when Hange plopped back down on the ground and Levi was quick to notice the deafening absence of the familiar sound of the cables whizzing back into the gear.

Her face was flushed, her skin glistened with sweat. The sunset illuminated Levi’s view and he saw shades of orange and purple reflect on her. She approached him. She entered the shade and within a second, he had lost the view of her he had been so gingerly enjoying.

“I think I get it,” Hange said.

“Get what?” It would have been a ridiculous request for Levi to tell her to stay back so he could enjoy the reflection of the sunset on her eyes. So he kept his response brief, a little penalty for that part of him that even suggested that Hange had been a joy to watch.

“You might be right, I think I’ve been using my cables too much. It’s much easier to move when they aren’t constantly pulling at me.”

Levi stifled a smile. He wasn’t going to show her how sweet it had been to be proven right. Also, a part of him had been a little disappointed she hadn’t denied him that luxury of being correct. He was in the mood for a little argument after all.

“But it doesn’t change the fact that you still used too much gas.” The opening for an argument was introduced soon after Levi lamented that wasted fuel.

Levi opened his mouth ready to mouth off. He hadn’t decided what to say it, ready to leave it to his sharp experienced tongue to discern the best comeback at that moment. He had wanted to insult her movement, the little dance around the trees. Her performance was perfection though and despite being able to come up with shitty jokes within seconds, nothing in her performance had been worth poking fun at.

To his relief, she interrupted him. “You know what though, I figured out something which might be just as useful for you.” Hange unfastened her gas canisters. “Try carrying it.”

Levi held one of them to see that it was still much fuller than what he would have expected from watching her only a few seconds ago.

“I found a way to conserve gas. I notice you used to carry yourself, you’d let the gas pull you. What if you bend your body a bit and curve your back, to make yourself easier for the gas to carry you through? It helped a lot for me, I definitely felt lighter, like I wasn’t resisting as much as I used to. Probably won't be able to maneuver as well as you though."

Levi did not bring his gear then so it had been a little difficult to imagine. By what could have been a silent agreement, Hange unfastened her ODM gear from the cables to the canisters and dropped them in front of him. “ Why don’t you try it?” She offered.

It had only been a few weeks since he woke up to diagnoses of internal bleeding and broken ribs that would have taken months to heal. At Commander Keith’s orders, Levi had stayed in the sidelines, no intention on trying anything with ODM for a while, especially with ODM gear which wasn’t his. ODM gear was custom fit for every single soldier after all.

It had only been a week but as Levi stood there, trying on the gear that should have been a few pounds too heavy for him, his body did not protest the weight. Jumping onto the tree with the help of the cables had felt a little awkward but it could have been the unnatural weight of ODM gear a few sizes too big.

Regardless, it was enough to see the difference. Hange had suggested he curves his back as he bent over and that he moves with the ODM gear. Don’t let the gas pull you.

He kept focused on Hange as she repeated the tips from the foot of the tree. The change was almost instant. The breeze was stronger, the air colder and the rustle of the leaves around him only louder as he moved.

Hidden among the sounds of the blowing wind, the rustle of leaves and the explosion of gas, he heard it. He had been too high up in the air for it to be any louder but it was definitely there, distant cheers, gasps and avid screams. They were the only two there so it could have only been from her.

He never found out how long he had been up there zipping among the branches. He called it a day when the sun was dark and his ribs started to whimper a little, manifesting in the form of a stitch on his right side.

As he landed back down on the roots of the tree, Hange was already there waiting for him. The dim light made it difficult to see the smile on her face. But it was there. Levi found himself wishing for at least some natural light to make it all the more visible.

“You might just be humanity’s strongest soldier,” Hange said as she moved to unfasten the gear for him. “Maybe that’s why you recovered so fast?

                                         Passion Project

“Tea?” Hange asked.

“Tea,” Levi answered

Just like before the injury, they were back to drinking black tea.

Levi was grateful for their history. On his end, he did not need to verbalize any of that. It had slipped into their routine after training to seek comfort in the malty yet astringent taste of black tea.

Somehow, Levi was relieved to realize she hadn’t forgotten that. It had been months since their last tea date after all. They had been occupied by preparations for the expedition, the actual expedition and the recovery that followed, to have continued that mini routine between them.

With the rations of before completely consumed, they had to get their fix elsewhere. They had silently made their way to that specific hole-in-the-wall tea shop Levi would frequent along the corners of Trost district. The exhaustion at having practiced the ODM gear after a long days work finally did catch up to both of them. The only exchange they did comfortably manage while taking the almost one hour long detour to the shop being the mention of that one common luxury between them.

Only after they settled down on one of the benches in front of the shop, when Levi finally had the tea in front of him and the luxury to enjoy the illuminated streets in Trost did he realize one crucial thing.

“Did you know this was my favorite shop?”

Hange gave a light shrug, careful not to jostle and spill her own tea.

“There are bigger shops in Trost. This isn’t really anyone’s first destination” It suddenly felt weird that he was the one a little talkative at first.

Hange took a sip before answering. “I did my research.”

“What kind of research? For someone who forces me to listen to rambles about other research, you’re awfully quiet about this one.”

The brunette sighed. Not one of defeat, but seemingly one of comfort and maybe a little amusement. “I saw you here in Trost during a few days off and I kinda followed you.”

Levi didn’t reply and only waited for her to continue. Having to carry the conversation of a few minutes ago with the last two lines had him a little tired.

“I was a little curious, wanted to see what a strong yet quiet soldier did in his free time so maybe I could learn a bit. I thought that maybe I could actually get stronger if I followed some of your habits.”

Why didn’t you ask me? Levi couldn’t blame her for stalking though. As he recalled pretty quickly, he hadn’t been the friendliest person in the beginning either.

“When you enter the shop, you'd order the exact same thing every time and you had this sparkle in your eyes when they serve it to you… Just like now!”

Levi suddenly felt self conscious of that spark in his eyes. Instead of looking away though, he found himself looking at her eyes, searching for a reason to point out how pathetically her own eyes probably sparkled. As he locked eyes with Hange though as she said it, he saw the way her own eyes sparkled under the dim street lights, only complemented by that wide smile on her face and the music in her voice.

“I guess you really love tea huh? Even the most emotionless soldiers have to have some passion somewhere to keep living.”

A Passion for tea? The way Hange had said it, had Levi almost spitting out his tea at the outrageous claim. The strong passing thought of not wanting to waste that good cup of tea or destroy the mood that accompanied it was enough to hold it back in his mouth.

"Relax, Levi.” Hange said. Levi wondered what kind of face he was making for her to look at him in an almost patronizing manner. “I have my own passions too.” Hange continued. But it’s a relatively new one. Not as old as your obsession with tea probably.”

“What is it?”

“I wanna do lots of research on titans. I‘ve already prepared five project proposals to submit to Erwin already and I think I’m gonna end up writing ten more before this month ends."

Levi had to note that it was the third week of the month already.

[astraei]

olympian aesthetics ;

tagged by : @astralchemic tagging : @shiroganc, @warzonic, @iliyovunjika, @permasclaris, @yellowlinked, @jawblade, @vrepit-sa, @pinkbonded, and anyone else who’d like to do it bc why not 

APHRODITE          laughter-loving, sweet smiles, dressed in silk and satin, flower in their hair, thrives on attention, sees the world as a runway, unapologetically sexual, the sea washing their ankles, in love with love, stirrer of passion, cunning concealed by painted lips, secret daggers, doves, revolution in their kiss, delighting in the waves, flirtatious winks, strolling along the beach, staring wistfully from a balcony, this is how to be a heartbreaker, your girlfriend thinks they’re attractive, wants to be adored, gets turned on my danger.

APOLLO          glitz and glamour, art galleries, turning the volume up, being made of gold, neatly-organized music sheets, notebooks filled with poetry, bathing in the sunlight, the powerful urge to create, collecting vinyl records, beautiful cover of wonderwall, playing multiple instruments, tasting like sunshine, healing touch, speaking in prophecies, smile mingled wrath, shunning lies, sporting shades, hanging out at music festivals with their friends, sleeps naked, arrow to the heart, paint brushes, probably has a Tinder account

ARES          armed for battle, wants to raise a dog with their significant other, soft spot for children, gives piggyback rides, scarred body, blood on their hands and face, willing to fight the world for the ones they love, fights against injustice, warm hugs, well-worn combat boots, boxing gloves, bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles, fist raised in protest, ignites revolutions, fear is a prison, more sensitive than what their tough shell will make you think, exhausted, damaged goods, force to be reckoned with, red roses, curses under their breath

ARTEMIS          keen sense of a hunter, freckles like constellations on their skin, piercing eyes, disheveled braid, moonlight peeking through the shadows, the calm of the forest at night, lying on the grass and staring at the stars, mother doe and her fawn, protecting their kin, the moon shimmering on a still lake, quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree, running with wolves lions, bonding while circled around a campfire, not being much of a people person, arrow hitting a target, popping egos, patience on 3%, touches heaven and returns howling

ATHENA          discerning gaze, unreadable face, the patience of a lifelong teacher, quiet museums, owl perched on their finger, armor that intimidates, eye for architecture, plays the sims for the sole purpose of building houses, studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid, big fan of logic,loves brain teasers, go-getter, balls of wool displayed on shelves, ancient buildings, sweaters in neutrals and cool colors, hair done up, can kill you with their brain, heads to the library often to research, sharpened pencils, abs that can cut steel, stoic statues, pottery classes  

DEMETER          soil-covered hands, smile that can bloom flowers, skin loved by the sun, being the mom-friend, can lift you and your friends, flowers kept in the pockets of overalls, takes pride in their beautiful garden, speaks to their plants (elementals), leaves rustling in the wind, stalks of wheat, picking fruit, greenhouses, heart as strong as a mountain, values simplicity, daisies dotted across a collarbone, curls crowned with flowers, folded pile of sweaters in warm hues, pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air

DIONYSUS          drunk shitposter, on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second, seductive smirks, untamed curls, rich fabrics on dark skin, sleek-furred panthers, theater masks, stage productions, receiving a standing ovation, rose caught between their teeth, being the baby of the bunch, wild parties that last from sundown to sunup, creeping vines, inspiring loyalty, grand opera houses, masquerade balls, rolls of film, shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine-spilled floor, pouring champagne into flutes, lives for the applause

HEPHAESTUS          the calloused hands of someone who knows labor, sweaty brow, flame burning in their eyes, inventive mind, broad shoulders, steampunk goggles, nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes, ashes, striking a match, blueprints for future projects, fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades, wrestles with bitterness, work boots have seen better years, wrinkled plaid shirts, iron melted in blazing fire, huge jackets, crafting masterpieces, greased-stained overalls, fascination with robotics, pain is fuel, stack of weaponry, even their muscles have muscles

HERA          resting bitch face, dressed to the nines, cows grazing on a pasture, cool rain, loving and hating fiercely, hand clutching a string of pearls, large chandelier with glittering crystals, plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims, romance to realism, pictures of the sky while flying on a plane, files that under fuck it, downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix, like their selfie or you’re grounded, knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man, dark eyes that penetrate your soul, marble and gold

HERMES          devil-may-care smile, ink-stained hands, always up-to-date on the latest technology, will steal your french fries, does it for the vine, shitposter, puts googly eyes on everything, meme hoarder, long drives on the highway, ma and pop diners, spontaneous road trips, folded maps, fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop, shooting hoops on the basketball court, chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations, goes jogging in the morning, mixes redbull with coffee, menace on april fool’s, hoodies and sneakers

POSEIDON          storm with skin, colorful coral reefs, waves crashing against the shore, the sea casting its spell, stroking the soft fur of a cat, their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop, tousled locks, clothes smeared with paint, owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns for more, leather jackets, fondness for diy projects, handwriting that flows across the page, nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin, velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams, mood as ever-changing as the sea, the roar of a motorcycle, compass with a spinning arrow

ZEUS          thunder in their heart, running on coffee, flash of lightning, natural charisma,eloquence, badass in a nice suit, aficionado of history, force of nature, lenny face, pretends they don’t have feelings but they do, nightmare-filled nights, proud arm around their lover’s waist, high-rise buildings, planes soaring through a cloudless sky, technician on the piano, maintains order, strong handshake, juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease, most likely to be voted class president out of their peers, expensive watch