#but I never had reason to write it until now

[the-fab-fox]

This is, obviously, the best place to do it.

No one can refute against the lies we tell ourselves if they never leave our thoughts.

(I'm mainly coming from a negative self talk frame of mind, but obviously can be any lie we tell ourselves.)

Also, in regards to how this might look in writing.

Start by figuring out how big the lie you're using weighs in your mind, against your own values. Then consider your character and compare them to you. Do that until you have an idea of where there values lie compared to yours. Okay. Now you've shifted to the character frame of mind rather than your own.

The reason you want to do this. If you aren't a mean, or dishonest, or self sacrificing, etc kind of person...

How do you expect to write it believably? Convincingly?

You have to weigh your values, compare them to theirs, so you can find the baseline of where they stand as far as manipulation and exploitation and dishonesty. From there other factors, such as friendships, closeness of those friendships, partners, closest of those partners, etc etc etc... those you bring up one at a time and consider how the baseline moves for each person integral to the plot. Do they become more or less honest with their significant other or queer platonic partner? Do they hide everything from their parents or is it an open supportive relationship?

At the same time consider the same question for this character as well as how they would react to knowing the big bad about the character, in this case they are a liar. Habitual.

Is the prospective partner/qpr cool with that? Are they similar? If they aren't, how can you navigate a compromise that would keep them from having to break up at some point? Or is it better they break up. How does that look.

But by doing this you can more efficiently incorporate these things into your writing and it's done in a realistic manner that just really 😘👌. And this works for any kind of flaw.

By doing this you keep yourself from falling into the dual traps of picking a flaw because it's tried and true and not being able to really sell the lies as anything more than surface level. Nuance is key.

Hope this makes sense. And if y'all ever need help or some insight specific to your plot in regards to this topic specifically, feel free to reach out.

Sorry op

I just had some kinda writing experience tips/advice. Thanks for letting me tag along. Hope you're well.

i love when characters lie to themselves in the complete privacy of their own minds

[dcxdpdabbles]

Always the bridesmaid never the bride

I'm not going to lie. I forgot if this was a prompt or a response to something I posted since I got it back before Thanksgiving. But if it's the former then:

Danny says this to Bruce at Clark and Lois' wedding. He is convinced Bruce is in love- or in lust, at the least- with Clark because the wealthy man constantly popped up at their office for important "business" and "private exclusive" interviews.

Now, Danny won't lie and say he's a better journalist than Clark or Lois- those two are the top two of the Daily Planet. There is a reason almost all Superman stories are covered by them- but he's darn good himself. After retiring from protecting his town from Ghosts, he's only ever used his powers scarcely, but they have helped him with a few articles here or there.

His career as a reporting journalist was mainly made by his ability to stumble across trouble alone! Danny had won awards for his articles. He has been included in a city time capsule project.

Danny got the scoop on Jason Todd being alive story way before everyone else. After realizing the boy was in witness protection, he hadn't even exposed it without speaking to Mr.Wayne first. The man was nothing like the tabloids had one believe. Danny found him a severely intelligent man with a deep love for his family and city. He just distracted people with his razzle and dazzle, hiding his beautiful soul in plain sight.

It had been an eye-opening conversation. The duo made a deal to wait until Jason was safe to be announced; Danny waited three whole months before he was greenlighted to release his story. Jason Todd had officially "returned" from the dead with an exclusive interview with Danny Fenton.

Danny honored and protected his dignity by writing a story that made the public love the returned young man. He hated reporters who only dragged people's names through the mud because that wasn't real investigation; that was just accepting the latest gossip on the streets.

Bruce was so grateful that Danny hadn't put his son in danger that he even gave Danny a business card that went to his home office!

And yeah, okay, Clark had Bruce's personal cellphone, but Danny just couldn't understand why the billionaire was so hung up on Clark Kent. It wasn't like the guy was Superman!

And maybe he was overly happy to find out Clark and Lois were an item. Sure that someone as good as Bruce, for all his facade of being a party boy who never grew up, would never chase a taken man. Danny had been right, too, because Bruce Wayne appeared less and less around the Daily Plant office.

It was.....sad not to see him, but Danny was a very busy journalist. He was grateful that the distraction had finally taken the hint and scurried off somewhere. What irked him in the following year and a half of Clark and Lois dating was how often Perry signed the two to cover Gotham News.

Mostly at one of Bruce Wayne's extravagant parties! Yeah, it was sort of cool that most of Bruce's parties were charity events. He had checked the numbers himself, finding that Bruce's efforts were honest and working to better his city. How many billionaires actually kept their word when wanting to be a philanthropist?

Of course, Danny had to write a piece on it. The people needed to see the positive change Bruce was making. Sometimes, it felt like people forgot how much he gave to the city. The article went viral, and people on the other side of the world were praising the good man Bruce.

Perry had given Danny a raise for it.

Clark had ruined that significant mark on his record by placing a wrap present on his desk with a wide grin. Apparently, the two had gone on a yacht trip together without Lois or Bruce's significant other. Whoever that was. "Bruce wanted me to give you this as a thanks."

Ugh, the smug asshole was just rubbing it in Danny's face that he was still friends with his ex. The present had been a shitty ship in a bottle that Danny had placed beside his writing awards in his living room. You know it would be a waste to just throw it out.

Or let it get dusty. Or not stare at and wonder if Bruce knew he liked pirate movies, so the fact he had a model replica of Captain Jack Sparrow's Black Pearl made for Danny was really no big deal.

Then Bruce came by the office after buying out the Daily Planet, giving Clark a month's vacation paid due to some "family emergency."

Danny had been worried about Ma Kent and Pa Kent- the pair had visited the Daily Planet and were the nicest people to ever walk the planet- so like the well-mannered man his mother raised, he had gone to the farm with some of his Dad's famous fudge. Only to find the Kents unaware there was an emergency in the family until Danny reminded them.

He had been a journalist long enough to call bull on their meaningful glances. Danny knew that neither Bruce nor Clark would dare cheat on Lois. They were both too good for something as sleazy as that- and honestly, Lois would kill them- but that didn't stop Bruce from obviously still carrying around a torch for Clark.

Which meant he gave him unfairly favorable treatment in the workplace. Ugh! Perry didn't even seem to care, stating that Bruce had signed their paychecks, and as long as he wasn't forcing Clark into anything harassment-worthy, Danny just had to deal with his coworkers having friends in high places.

That meant they got away with different things. He just had to suck it up and accept it.

But now, Clark and Lois tied the knot. Bruce had to back off. He would never overstep a friend's relationship like this. Danny might have seen him sneak a few glances at the dancing couple- not that he was staring at Bruce Wayne! But the man was one of the hottest topics to write about, and he never knew when a good story would pop up.

It was rather sad, really. How Bruce forced himself to come to a celebration of the man he loved marrying and choosing someone else. Danny had dedicated a drink to his heartbreak- from clear across the room.

He wasn't on a personal cellphone number basis with Bruce Wayne, let's allow a "Drink your broken heart sorrow away with me" basis. And maybe Danny had a few too many. Perhaps he lost count after realizing it was an open bar because, surprise surprise, Bruce was footing the drink bill for all guests.

Danny doesn't remember what made him think he could cross the room to Bruce or why he found the courage to point a finger in his face before slurring, "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, eh Brucie?"

He does remember those piecing blue eyes locking him in place, brow folding in concern as Bruce replied. "Mr. Fenton, are you alright?"

"Me? Oh yeah! Just enjoying the party." He throws his arm up, spilling some of the alcohol out of the cup. He doesn't mind since the DJ starts to play one of his favorite songs, and he just has to sway to the beat. "This is a fun party. Are you having fun? I'm having fun!"

"I think you've had a little too much," Bruce says, helping Danny to his feet. When did he fall? Oh, right, when he was dancing. He laughs again, curling up on Bruce's chest. He feels it shift with the vibrations of the other man's voice. It's rather nice. "Did you come alone? Is there someone I can call for you?"

"Can I tell you a secret, Brucie?" Danny mutters, leaning forward to whisper into the man's ear before he can respond. "I live alone. I have no one to take care of me. I can't even drive."

"I see. I can have my driver take you home then. Can I see your wallet? I want to read the address-"

Danny has a second to think Oh no before his stomach lurches, and vomit falls out of his mouth all over Bruce Wayne's fancy suit that probably costs more than his house. Danny's eyes water. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't usually drink, and I feel terrible, and I-"

"It's alright. " Bruce says, smile still perfectly kind, understanding, and slightly dizzy. Danny knows he's lying, though- his reporter eyes can see right through that facade. He's pissed that Danny threw up on him. Understandably.

He starts sobbing, apologizing even more, and pointing out how he knows Bruce is actually upset.

Bruce looks mildly surprised before throwing one of his arms over his shoulder and helping him out of the hotel ballroom. The reception had started hours ago, and despite it not being anywhere near over, no one would bat an eye at them leaving early.

They were walking down the hallway. Danny found himself leaning on a counter, laughing into his hands about a potted plant, while Bruce chatted up the lady at a computer. He told the pair that Bruce should rebound with a man instead of a woman if he wanted to get over Clark but was ignored by them.

Rude.

Then suddenly, Danny was being pressed into a soft mattress on his back while someone was taking off his shoes and losing his tie. When did he get home? How had he moved that quickly?

This didn't feel like his pillow. Danny has a special one. He can't sleep with it. He packs his pillow when he travels, even if it's just one night he plans to stay. Danny has used the same pillow for years now.

"I'm sorry, I can't get your special pillow, but I can give you lots of water." A man says, making Danny blink and open his eyes. His eyelids feel so heavy that it takes him a moment to stay open.

Above him, Bruce is carefully unbuttoning his suit jacket. The billionaire had removed his own coat, but the vomit-covered white shirt remains. Danny feels ashamed at the sight even as Bruce pulls his arms out of the jacket sleeves.

"Sorry," He whimpers. "About the vomit."

"It's alright. You needed to throw up. Do you feel better?"

Danny nods, closing his eyes and feeling a warm towel run along his face. He sighed as the sticky, gross feeling around his mouth was gone, and he sank further into the Not Right But Comfty pillow.

"Sleep well, Mr. Fenton," Bruce says, tucking the blankets around Danny once he finishes cleaning him up. Danny hums, already half gone, when he whispers.

"You're a good man. No matter what you present to the world. No matter if you believe you're not, I know you're good."

There is a moment of silence before Bruce replies. "I paid for the hotel room. It comes with a free breakfast, so when you're feeling up to it, come down for food tomorrow. Have a good night, Mr. Fenton."

"Stay?"

"I'm sorry. I never intended to stay; I just wanted to get you somewhere safe. Going home in your state would have been a bad idea."

Danny's words are nearly too slurried to be understood as he slowly slips away: "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, Fenton. Bruce would never want you."

He wakes up with a killer hangover, confused about where the hell he is, and almost has a heart attack when he realizes he crumpled up the suit pants he rented. All that is so hard to process in thirty seconds that he nearly missed the written note on the nightstand.

Call me xxx-xxx-xxxx

XOXO

Bruce Wayne

What in the world happened at Clark's and Lois's wedding!?

[nyvora]

MARKS, A TALLY

simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

summary: she marks his absences in quiet dread until he appears, like he never left. wc: 1.5k tw: brief mention of smut. all fluff (or as much as can be with ghost) notes: to a special someone who told me i should write this man.

She once began a tally.

It started as one thing and became another. A routine. A single line added to the one before it as the kettle brewed—sometimes, another slid through four beside it, striking five.

Each strike of the marker felt like carving a notch into her ribs—every tally a scarred reminder of the hours, the days, the waiting.

She’d begun it as a countdown.

Her palm wiping them clean from the whiteboard stuck to the fridge. But then, one day, the board had been wiped, and he hadn’t come home. No answer. No call. Nothing. Just silence, silence, silence.

Now, she marks them to know exactly how long he’s been gone.

How many mornings she has woken with her chest tight, wondering if she still has someone who keeps their things in her drawers—or if she’s a widow, even though they’ve never said I do.

Today is day fifty-four.

It’s on a crisp morning she tells him.

The air cool enough to raise goosebumps, curling around the edges of the room like an uninvited guest whenever his leg slips free of the duvet.

Outside, the faint smell of rain lingers, mingling with the earthy scent of autumn leaves crushed underfoot, flowing in through the open window as tyres crunch on wet tarmac.

The bedroom is dark—or as dark as it can be, with a sliver of daylight slipping through the gap above the curtain pole. The curtains thrum in the gentle breeze, faint whispers of autumn threading into the room.

He thinks she’s waited for the moment, chosen it, plucked it as she does the flowers for the dining table.

Flowers he suspects she believes he doesn’t notice, though he always does. It’s a quiet game he likes, spotting the changes she’s made to their home between his absences.

Each room carries her touches—a throw draped carelessly over the sofa, the faint perfume of burnt candles or her diffusers tucked behind photo frames. His boots, lined neatly by the door, contrasted by the lived-in chaos of her side table: an open book with its spine cracked, a forgotten mug of tea with the faint shadow of a lipstick print.

He notes how she didn’t choose to say it when his hips were spreading her thighs, his fingers crooked inside her, or when the wet, obscene sounds of her body drowned out his guttural groans. She didn’t spill it as he pressed her knees to her chest, splitting her open on his cock, her breathless cries ricocheting between them—whining between short puffs of air as he fucked her senseless.

Nor did she murmur it in the lull after, cleaned up and calm, her head on his chest, fingers splayed over his scars as though her touch alone could heal him.

Ghost never tells her he thinks she could. Simon might, one day.

She says it when the clock aligns with her grumbling stomach, just before midday. Four words. Each syllable slices the air, leaving something heavy in its wake, thick and barbed with aching truth.

“I wait for you.”

The syllables sound like they claw their way up her throat, raw and jagged, like glass slicing her voice into fragments of a confession she’d kept buried too long. As though they claw their way past the guilt lodged there, scratching and bruising on their way to the surface.

He doesn’t look at her; there’s no point.

She won’t meet his eyes, anyway. He knows her too well, knows his reason.

The ring on her finger glints as the breeze pulls back the curtain, the fleeting autumn sunlight casting a soft glow over the bed.

Plus, he knows what she means. Hears the implication, feels the pain in her words—the longing she swallows when he slips into the cold side of the bed and warms it with his presence. He feels the heaviness in the air as though grief itself is drawing breath whenever he toes off his shoes and trades his uniform for the quieter rhythm of civilian life.

He suspects she liked it better when there was no when. When his returns were unmarked, unpromised. Now, he imagines her pacing, burning holes in the new flooring—peeling the skin from her lips until copper tinges her tongue, or biting her nails to the quick. She’d been a nail-biter when he first met her. In a laundrette, of all places.

She’d been gnawing at them, staring as the washing tumbled in the machine, soap suds smearing the glass. He wasn’t sure why he spoke to her—or why he kept speaking. Just as he wasn’t sure why he asked her name. You can call me Soap. I already know someone with that name, he’d snorted. Is it fake as well? she’d responded, brow up near her hairline. May as well be. There’d been quiet then, thick, until she said: Call me Suds, then—I’m not giving you my real name. Who washes clothes at three in the morning, anyway? A murderer?

You, he’d quipped.

She tenses against him now, the guilt of admission stiffening her spine. Not that she’ll say more. She’s too practised at burying things deep.

“Good,” he mutters, after a long stretch of silence. “Be fucking shit to come home and find you aren’t.”

Her laugh carries the tiniest fracture, a crack running along its edges—a shard of sunshine breaking through. “Y'know what I mean.”

He does, though the weight of it clings to him, a heavy mantle he’s never been able to shake. Her words settle in his chest, coiling around the parts of him that still believed he was more soldier than man.

He lets his lips twitch, just for himself. “Always gonna come home to you.”

“Hmm.”

She rolls away, sitting up. Her silhouette catches the faintest light as she pulls a shirt over her head. The fabric rustles against her skin as she grabs something from the bedside table—her phone, maybe, or her watch. The bed groans softly as she stands.

“Suds.”

“Simon.”

His smirk deepens as he stretches out, his head propped on one arm. He doesn’t reply, doesn’t need to.

“Your hair’s longer,” she notes from the en-suite doorway.

It’s his turn to hum, sitting up, arms draped over his thighs as he watches her shadowed form. Every curve of her—even her eyes—catch the dim light.

“You want me to—?”

“I want you to come back to bed.”

She goes silent, words swallowed back behind her too-kind smile and soft lips. But she doesn’t move, doesn’t slither back over or pad over or even walk.

“Why?”

It’s barely a whisper, a confession wrapped in a question.

He doesn’t answer at first. Just sighs, his gaze tracing her outline.

“Why do you want me to come back to bed, Simon?”

So I can hold you. It rises in his mind, clear as breath.

He thinks of the lists he makes—promises to himself to keep his blood inside his skin, to stay sharp, to fight another day. The one that keeps him awake when tiredness threatens to steal him and what makes him break bones rather than risk a gun fight.

Another man might have said it. Might have turned it into poetry, wrapped it in honeyed words to soothe her fears.

But he’s not that man. He’s a man forged in violence, shaped by anger.

Still, she makes him better. Not good, not entirely. But better. At some point, he hadn’t been sure he was even a man, more a monster—a thing shaped by trauma and dressed by anger. Now, she’s the reason he sleeps at all, in this bed far too large for them both, cluttered with too many cushions. The same bed where she curls into him, small and fragile, and unwinds the knots in her soul with a nap.

The truth clings to his tongue, ready to spill.

“Because I bloody missed you.”

It comes out wrong, even if it’s right.

She snorts softly, burying her laugh. But then she moves, her shadow nearing until the mattress dips, and his hand finds her wrist. His thumb brushes her pulse—a steady beat, a constant reminder: Alive. Alive. Alive.

“Missed you too.”

“Yeah?”

She nods, her lips brushing his shoulder before she settles against him. “Only a little. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Silence stretches, warm and comfortable, as the house exhales around them. His thumb grazed her wrist, the steady thrum of her heartbeat pounding against his touch—a fragile promise: Alive. Here. Mine.

“I can miss you and still be happy you’re doing something you love, you know?” she murmurs, her hand tightening on his arm.

He presses his lips to her forehead in reply. Two words, five letters, unspoken yet clear: I know.

[kerryshifting]

beer and shifting with kerry

with my lovely beer in the left hand, and period cramps, i want to remind you that shifting it’s not meant to stress you. i see so many people focus on methods: until when i count? what affirmations do i have to say? am i doing this correctly?

like BABES. what about you? when i realized that my shifting journey was not only making me sad, but left me with no interest for my drs or this practice, it was like a punch in the tits. i was draining myself!!!. “i am not going to shift with this method, why am i even trying?” is something i would say to myself everytime i tried, and the motivation went down down and DOWN.

then i guess shifting slapped me in the face multiple times and i understood that it was actually something that should make me happy and free, not making me feel like i am in a cage. then i thought: girl, what’s something that makes you happy? and pooof everything seems to align perfectly. i felt a genius spencer-reid-level. well, i love writing, i love music, i love daydreaming, and i love films.

and i had the perfect answer.

a year ago i put music on and, without forcing myself methods or meditation (which i hate i think i have undiagnosed adhd and i absolutely hated everyone who was like ‘you have to meditate to shift!!!) i was feeling in my dr body i totally forgot about this happening which is hilarious which, until then, never happened to me. that’s when i totally ditched informations on tiktok, bought a journal, and started my cool girl shift.

i love movies: romanticising everything i do, and my drs. as you can see my pinterest is very curated. then, when i am in my shower i always try to act like in my dr, to keep me motivated. lighting my candles and journaling about my dr, feeling like an actress quentin tarantino was filming (this sounds weird but hey you know what i mean)

i love music: playlist absolutely changed the game. not only made me discover new music, but this is truly the main reason why i am enjoying this journey so much. music cures scars of my soul, and this such a motivation to shift — makes me feel better mentally.

i love daydreaming: now, i’ve always seen people on tiktok saying how daydreaming ruins their shifting journey, and i integrated that. then i started seeing daydreaming as a method, and now i see it as a manifestation on my desired reality; i am already there, and im just manifesting what i actually want (even better if i scripted those things). this helped me so much that it’s how i shifted for the second time (when i told you guys!!!)

and i love writing: my journal is my everything. i write letters as dr self to my friends and family. i write in a diary as dr self; this helps me with overthinking and to enjoy this whole journey.

just do what makes you happy man. you can integrate everything you love into your shifting journey. why meditate if you don’t like it? why making yourself tired and tired and tired? there are no rules here.

[taffywabbit]

I've been thinking about this song a lot again since yesterday, and if you'll indulge me in being overly wordy and a bit sentimental, I kinda wanna share some of my thoughts here:

so I alluded to this a bit while rambling on bluesky earlier, but early in the process of composing this song I REALLY wanted it to have lyrics. I tried writing some, and having looked at them again this morning, frankly they're kinda garbage and I stand by my decision to scrap them and let the music just speak for itself. but I only really wanted to write lyrics in the first place because I got ONE specific line (and subsequently a chorus, or at least one version of it) stuck in my head and wanted the rest of the song to kinda revolve around it.

the scrapped verses were sorta loosely about how, when you're younger, you tend to have a very straightforward and simple sense of optimism and justice - kids generally believe that things WILL just work out somehow, and often have surprisingly obvious and on-point responses when they learn about societal issues, but adults will often talk down to them and tell them they just don't understand how the real world works yet. and as you get older, that optimism gets conflated heavily with childlike naivety and kinda gets metaphorically beaten out of a lot of people over time, until they're just kinda consigned to the status quo and thinking of societal problems being too large/permanent for them to fix or influence.

this song was meant to embody a sense of rebellious optimism - a stubborn belief that we have a say in the kind of world we live in, and furthermore that our inner child would never forgive us for shrugging and giving up now that we're finally Adults and Adults are supposed to be the ones with the power to actually Fix Things. it was meant to evoke some nostalgia too, sure - thus the title "Grass Stains", which came from the scrapped first verse about childhood, and also just the general musical style being reminiscent of pop punk music I really liked as a kid and still tend to associate with summertime and old video games from that era. but more than that, I wanted to convey the idea that, sooner or later, we have to stop waiting for the Adults to decide how to fix things and get a hand on the ball ourselves; the idea that growing up should empower us, not make us cynical and detached and too tired to care anymore.

anyways, I will spare you most of the unfinished lyrics because I really do promise they're not interesting or good at all, but here's the chorus part and the specific last line that I was really fixated on back then and (for reasons that are probably not hard to imagine) thinking a lot about again now:

you keep pacing

so sullenly facing

away from the task left to you

why can't you see it?

if you want hope, then be it

those gears aren't just going to move

you gotta change the world, before it changes you

so yeah. shit's rough out there right now. shit's been rough for a while and it's gonna continue being rough for the foreseeable future. like I mentioned in the original caption, i wrote this song when I was feeling pretty awful (both mentally and physically, actually - I'm pretty sure I had covid for the second time when I made this lol) and needed something to perk up my mood, and it... kinda worked honestly? and now when I listen to it again I still kinda get a boost from it, especially if I let myself think back to the original message I was trying to imbue it with. it's hard for me to feel totally hopeless or unmotivated while I'm listening to it, and I hope that energy sorta comes through for other people too (though I would obviously be just as happy that people like the music I made anyways, without deeper context or ideas attached to it).

I guess i just wanna say this: remember that the world's gonna change one way or another, but your contributions to it are never meaningless, and their absence would be felt. and you also have the power to embolden and support those around you to become a stronger force for good together. the only real way to fail in all of this is to give up and lay down and let whatever happens wash over you, to believe them when they treat you like you're too small to be a threat or a challenge. and even if you don't believe your efforts matter to anyone else, let them matter to you. if you want hope, then be it. strive to be a force for good in spite of all opposition, and that goodness will in turn continue to propel you forwards.

ok I think that's about as sappy I can stand to be, I'm going to bed lol

hey i finished a new song!! check it out!!

my prompt for starting this was essentially "i'm in a bad mood and i want to make music that'll fix that". apparently what that translated to was whatever genre "music that would make 9-year-old me think they could do a backflip off the swings at the park" is, but like... it DID cheer me up? so, mission accomplished? i hope you enjoy it too!

♫ made with OpenMPT! ✎ cover art by me!

[diamonddaze01]

고맙다

pairing: ljh x reader genre: hurt-comfort (kae im sorry) | wc: 1.4k warnings: none | rating: pg a/n: for my 400 follower celebration -> @ylangelegy lyrics lab + “i wanted to become your tomorrow so i lived in the today” (thanks) // this is a (kind-of) spin off to us, again (but can be read alone) // kae i am sorry dont hurt me it ends well i swear.

The rain was soft but constant, like a whisper that hadn’t yet learned to quiet down. The sound of it tapping gently against the windows filled the silence of Jihoon’s studio, his hands frozen mid-task as he watched you from the doorframe. You stood there, not quite sure whether to step inside or remain in the hallway, as if the space between you and him was more than just the width of the door.

It had been months. Maybe half a year? Jihoon had lost track of time the moment you’d asked for a break. The day he left your apartment was still a vivid blur, a moment he replayed in his mind over and over, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. There were a thousand reasons why he’d never reached out. A thousand excuses he fed himself to make it feel like it was just something that had to happen. But in the deepest part of his chest, the place where he kept all the things he wouldn’t say aloud, he still missed you. He still felt your absence every time he walked into the studio, every time he poured a cup of coffee, every time he sat down to write music.

And now you were standing there, a few feet away from him. The ghost of what once was, the thing he’d never let himself forget.

“Can we talk?” Your voice was a little shaky, but you stood there with an open vulnerability, as if you had prepared for this moment even though you were uncertain of the outcome. Your eyes darted between his, as though you were trying to gauge how much of him was still the person you once knew, and how much of him had changed.

Jihoon didn’t respond right away. He didn’t know if he could, not without giving in to the feeling creeping up his throat. The one that said maybe, just maybe, you were still something worth fighting for.

“What’s there to talk about?” he finally muttered, his tone a little too cold, a little too detached. He wasn’t sure how else to respond. He had spent so long building walls around himself, convincing himself that you weren’t a part of his present anymore. He couldn’t afford to let that slip.

You took a step forward, your eyes soft with uncertainty. “I don’t know, Jihoon. Maybe... maybe I’m just trying to figure out what happened.”

There it was—the thing he never let himself think about too much. You asking what happened was like peeling back a scab that had barely healed. He couldn’t ignore the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him when you brought it up, couldn’t ignore the fact that he had failed you in ways he hadn’t even fully realized until now.

Jihoon looked away for a moment, unwilling to meet your gaze directly. He knew what you wanted—what you were hoping for—but he didn’t know how to give it to you. The pieces of him that had been holding onto you were all tangled up in regret. “What happened?” he repeated softly, almost to himself. “I don’t know. I thought maybe if I... kept my distance, kept working, it would get easier. But I was wrong. I guess we were wrong.”

Your face softened, as if your heart had just cracked open a little, just enough to let him see it. “I thought about it, Jihoon. About what we were, what we could have been,” you said quietly, stepping closer, just enough to bridge the gap but not enough to make him feel cornered. “And I thought maybe... maybe I wasn’t the right person for you, or maybe you weren’t the right person for me. But now, standing here, I don’t think I can just keep pretending that’s how it works.”

Jihoon let out a shaky breath, his fingers gripping the edge of his desk as he tried to find words that wouldn’t sound weak. The truth was, he hadn’t wanted to admit how much he missed you. How much he had wanted to fight for you, but had kept telling himself that time would heal everything. That you were just another chapter in his life that needed to be closed, but the more he tried to lock it away, the more it kept coming back.

“I kept thinking... maybe if I just moved forward, if I just stayed focused on what’s next, I’d stop wanting you. I’d stop thinking about you. But that’s not how it works, is it?” His voice was softer now, as if all the bravado had slipped away, leaving only the truth.

You shook your head slowly, the motion so familiar, so comforting, that Jihoon almost didn’t want to look away. “No, it’s not. We never really... gave ourselves a chance to be in the present, Jihoon. We kept thinking about the future, about what we could become. But maybe... maybe we should’ve just focused on today. On what we were, what we still could be.”

His heart thudded painfully in his chest. There it was—the words he had never been brave enough to speak. The ones that had been sitting at the back of his mind, waiting to be freed. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words feeling heavier than they should. “I never gave you the chance to be with me like that. I thought I had time, thought I had all the time in the world to make things right, but... now I don’t know how to do that.”

Your eyes softened, but there was something else in them, something deep that he couldn’t quite read. You took a deep breath, as though you had made up your mind about something, and it was in that moment that Jihoon realized you had never really stopped caring. Not even after everything.

“I was so focused on tomorrow,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain, “that I forgot to appreciate the moments we had, the moments that mattered right now.”

Jihoon swallowed hard, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Maybe I did the same.”

You stepped closer, closing the space between you both, and this time, Jihoon didn’t hesitate. He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours, the touch almost tentative, as if waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, your fingers intertwined, and for the first time in months, everything felt... right. Not perfect, not neatly wrapped in a bow, but real.

Jihoon’s eyes dropped to where your hands held his. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “Can I kiss you?”

The question caught you off guard, and a tear slipped down your cheek as a soft, incredulous laugh bubbled out of you. “Yes, you idiot,” you said, your voice breaking as you reached for him. “Please kiss me.”

And then his lips were on yours. The kiss wasn’t hurried or desperate—it was grounding, steady, and filled with all the things neither of you had the courage to say aloud. Your warmth, the familiarity, the way your hand cradled his cheek—it was everything he hadn’t realized he missed.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breaths mingling with your own. “I missed you,” he murmured, the words so quiet they almost melted into the sound of the rain.

You smiled through your tears, your hands still resting lightly on his cheeks. “I missed you too, Jihoon.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You simply stood there, the silence between you no longer heavy, but comforting.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Jihoon asked, his voice quiet, almost unsure. He wasn’t expecting an answer, but he needed to hear it, needed to know if there was a chance for them.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with something like hope, but also like you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. “We take it one step at a time,” you said softly. “We don’t rush. We just... we just live in today. Together.”

Jihoon nodded slowly, the truth of it settling in his chest like a quiet storm. He had spent too long living in the what-ifs and the could-have-beens. Maybe it was time to stop looking ahead, to stop worrying about tomorrow, and just... live. With you. Today.

And as the rain continued to fall outside, Jihoon held you like you were something he didn’t deserve but would spend the rest of his life trying to. One step at a time, he thought. Today. Together.

[poetinthelakes]

SPEAK NOW . . . . gojo satoru .ᐟ

LYRICS. horrified looks from everyone in the room but i'm only looking at you ──────ex-husbands!gojo x fem!reader ⋆

NOTES. part two of this scenario, i think everything is a bit rushed so i didn't like it so much but anw, happy ending!! i wanted to write something angsty but ended up doing this, enjoy and thank you for the support <3 .ᐟ

Gojo Satoru’s heart had never raced as wildly as it was beating at this moment. The anxiety and nervousness coursing through him as he sprinted towards the venue where his ex-wife was getting married was unmatched.

Had you already said “I do”? Were you thinking about him? Had Megumi and Tsumiki managed to delay the ceremony long enough for him to get there on time?

A flood of questions swirled in his mind, none of which would be answered until he reached the place where you stood at the altar, dressed in for the white veil occasion with a man that didn’t deserve you in the slightest.

When he got there, a man in a suit stopped him, asking what did he want.

“I’m Gojo Satoru, i'm here for the wedding of Yn Ln and Kenji Hirano, where are they?” he demanded breathlessly, the desperation in his voice growing more evident.

“Oh, Miss Yn and Mr. Kenji are on the third floor, the main hall to the right and—” the man began, but before he could finish, the white-haired man bolted towards the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes.

The voice of an officiant became clearer and clearer as he neared the hall where the love of his life was about to get married.

“If anyone has a valid reason to object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Satoru heard just as he reached the doors. A tense silence filled the room.

It seemed like his kids had executed the plan exactly as they'd rehearsed.

The man with ocean-blue eyes pushed the doors open dramatically, causing every head to turn towards him with horrified looks but Satoru didn’t care about anyone else in the room, his eyes were solely on you as he strode confidently to where you stood. Your surprised expression, as if straight out of a soap opera, met his.

“Satoru? W-what are you doing here? how did—?” you stammered, your eyes flickering briefly to where your kids stood, grinning in delight.

“I, Gojo Satoru, object to this wedding,” he declared, turning to face the man who was just minutes away from becoming your husband. Then, he shifted his gaze to the officiant as he added, “This man doesn’t deserve Yn, he doesn’t love her. And i don’t think she loves him either.”

“What the hell are you talking about, you idiot?” Kenji shot back angrily.

“I’m talking about how you’ve been using her all this time. Don’t think you can fool me, because i know you’re no saint,” Satoru said, eliciting shocked gasps from the crowd.

“Love, this man has cheated on you more than once, lying about loving you while sneaking around with other women behind your back,” he revealed, making your jaw drop in disbelief.

“What? Is that true, Kenji?” you demanded, your voice tinged with denial, unable to process what Satoru just said.

Obviously your fiancé immediately started to deny everything.

“Of course not! t-this idiot is just making things up to stop you from marrying me!” Kenji protested, growing increasingly nervous, so much that you began to suspect that Satoru was telling the truth but it was clear that your ex-husband was the only one being honest.

“I have photos, Yn, if you wanna see them. . .” Satoru began, pulling out his phone, but you stopped him by placing your hand on his.

Shaking your head, you replied, “You don’t need to show me anything. I believe you, Satoru.”

“You do?” he asked, hope lighting up his face.

“Of course i do, you would never lie to me about something like this. I know you, Satoru,” you said and the white-haired man smiled softly just as your kids ran up to join you both, leaving Kenji staring in disbelief.

“Let’s go, Mom! The car’s waiting,” Megumi said, and Tsumiki held up your car keys with a grin, making you smile softly as well.

“Well? what do you say?” Satoru asked eagerly, his eyes filled with that irresistible look you could never say no to.

The room buzzed with whispers as the guests ───and your family─── awaited your response.

You took a moment to think before soflty nodding, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Let’s go,” you said, smiling at the only man who had ever truly captured your heart.

With no hesitation, Satoru grabbed your hand, and the two of you bolted towards the exit, Megumi and Tsumiki following close behind as Kenji yelled after you, begging for you to come back.

This was a decision you knew you’d never regret.

BONUS .ᐟ

“You drive me crazy, angel,” said your now-boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, giving you a mischievous grin after what had been the best night you’d had in a long time.

Your bare body wrapped in nothing but a sheet, and the man of your dreams lying beside you made it feel like a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“I love you, Satoru,” you murmured, looking at him with a smile as you leaned in to give him a fervent kiss. Satoru placed one hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, caressing it tenderly.

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he whispered, peppering your body with soft kisses, making you laugh and wonder how you'd ever thought of ending your marriage with someone as wonderful as him.

This time, Satoru wasn’t going to let you go, and you knew you’d never want to leave his side ever again.

© POETINTHELAKES 2025

[darkredsugarcookie]

"The Pressure of His Lips" - ex!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi! Like three (3) people have asked me to start posting fics on here, so here we go. I'm new to posting on tumblr, but I'm a wattpad and ao3 veteran, so be nice. I'm still trying to figure out the formatting and everything for this place :P

Summary: After breaking up due to your secret relationship being brought to the surface, you are not handling the separation well. Too much vodka and lonely nights end with you accidentally Bucky from the bathroom floor.

Warnings: Alcohol use, heavy intoxication, mentions of smoking weed, slight hint at SA history upon the reader, angst, alpine mention!!!! let me know if I missed any!

DISCLAIMER: This is an excerpt from a bigger fic I've been writing in which the self-insert has a history of SA. It is hinted at for one sentence in this specific blurb.

By all means, I should’ve been the one that managed to keep my head above water. Dad hit rock bottom when he was my age— after my grandparents died. He was no stranger to tell me about it. It was always an example of what not to do. Even Mom had her struggles after she lost her brother. 

I had every picture perfect reason to stay away from anything that could drag me down like a weight in still water. Which is why I couldn’t tell you how I ended up at the bottom of a bottle on a Monday night in uptown Manhattan. 

For a long time, I refused to drink more than once in heavy social settings after what happened when I was seventeen. But this? I didn’t care anymore. I needed whatever would keep him and my parents and the team out of my head. 

The problem I was running into, however, was that by the time I was cross-faded in a mass of bodies in a bar uptown, he was the only thing I had the ability to think about. 

Everything I wouldn’t confront during the day when I was sober chased me down until I was curled up in the corner of a bathroom stall. 

The smell of weed clouded my senses as the cold tile floor hit the backs of my thighs. The vodka still on my tongue made me dizzy and I could feel my heart beating like a drum in my head.

Every memory axed its way into my head like a migraine I couldn’t shake. I could spend every night like this, I could dance with strangers I didn’t care about, I could swear off men to my best friend and demand that I was completely fine, but I would always end up like this. Thinking about how I could still feel the pressure of his lips on my skin and if I tried hard enough, the temperature of the bathroom tiles almost felt like that of his arm under my fingers whenever we were curled up together. 

I couldn’t keep a straight thought. It all flashed through my head in images I couldn’t shake. 

My phone was vibrating. 

I fumbled for it, where it was tucked into the front of my dress, and I didn’t even check who was calling when I  tapped the screen and held it to my ear. I sniffled, wiping my nose. My cheeks were wet. 

I was crying. That seemed to be pretty normal for me these days. 

“Hello?” 

I blinked. Great, now I was hallucinating voices. I’d never reached that point of being wasted. “Nat,” I said, rubbing my eyes. I probably just ruined my makeup already. “What’s up?” I did my best to sound sober. Probably didn’t work.

There was a heavy sigh. “You didn’t mean to call me,” he said. 

“You called me,” I replied. 

“No, I did not. Are you… Are you okay?” 

“I am fine,” I said. “I’m not… supposed to talk to you.” “I know, angel.” Another sigh, a shuffle of something. Maybe blankets. It couldn’t have been that late. 

“Are you sleeping?”

“It’s almost four in the morning.”

My head was pounding, swimming… I couldn’t quite breathe right. “You don’t really sleep…”

“No, I don’t. Less now. Where are you?” 

“Why?” I felt defensive all of a sudden. No matter the fact I didn’t think I could get up off this floor if the building was on fire. 

“Because you’re drunk, sweetheart. And you’re alone. It’s not safe.”

“You don’t know that I’m- if I’m alone.”

A brief pause. “Yes, I do. Do you know where you are?” 

I was picking at a loose thread on the hem of my dress. “I’m…” I squeezed my eyes shut. That string wrapped around my finger twice. “I’m in the bathroom.”

“Okay, hold on—” I heard a door shut. It was quiet for a second. “I know where you are. You stay in the bathroom, okay? I’ll come get you.”

“But you—”

“No, you stay where you are.” I shrank a little. “Hear me?” 

“Yeah…” “Good. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I think I fell asleep after that, because the next thing I remember was hearing a commotion of voices— only one of which I recognized. 

Then it got so bright as the stall door was pushed open and I swear it felt like my heart that had dropped dead almost a month ago was beating again. 

Bucky’s face was a mix of emotions as he touched my cheek. “Sweetheart…” He said, letting out a breath. 

“Why are you here?” I asked, blinking a few times to try and see clearly. If he was here, I wanted to feel it, see it. All of it. 

“I’m here for you, doll.”

“But you hate me.”

He looked at me like I was crazy. “No, I don’t, baby. I don’t hate you. But we need to get you home, come on.”

Without waiting for me to say anything, he lifted me to my feet. “Where are your shoes?” he asked. I just shrugged. 

As I limped my way to the bathroom exit, one of the other girls stopped him, demanding that he either explain how he knew me, or set me down. If I was sober, I might have hugged her for that. “He’s…” I started. 

She cast a worried glance from me, to the man holding me up. Bucky sighed and pulled out his phone, showing her the screen. “She’s mine, promise.” I barely caught a glimpse of the wallpaper. It was a picture Avery had taken of us when we were in Atlanta, we were in the kitchen, not even aware she was watching. 

Once we were past the crowds, he shoved the door open and helped me outside. The chilly air shocked me a little back into my senses, but not much. 

He pulled the car door open and helped me into the passenger seat before rounding the hood and climbing in. “I feel like lecturing you on how dangerous this is might be pointless because I don’t think you’re gonna remember any of it.”

I sniffled, wiping my cheeks. “I thought I was… fine.” “I’m sure you did,” he said, pulling onto the street. “Avery would have a heart attack if she knew about this, you know?” 

“Yeah… It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he sighed, shoving a hand through his hair. “This isn’t like you.”

“Sure it is,” I replied as I looked out the window. “It’s in my genes.” Bucky glanced at me, but didn’t say anything. When we pulled up outside my apartment building, I paused. “How do you—”

“I had a feeling something like this would happen. I got it from Nat.” 

“She gave it to you?” 

“I had to ask. Beg, actually.”

“That isn’t like you,” I said, quoting his own words. He cast me that same look he always gave me when I said something annoying, but valid. I smiled a little, tipping my head against the headrest of the car as I watched him climb out. 

When he got to my side and pulled the door open, he didn’t give me an option. Next thing I knew, he was scooping me into his arms and I didn’t have it in me to fight. I leaned closer, letting my body relax for the first time in weeks. I could scold myself for this in the morning. 

“What’s the door code?” he asked me. 

“My birthday,” I replied in more of a mumble than anything. “It’s—”

“I know your birthday, angel.” 

I sighed and nodded as we stepped into the warmth of the lobby. I didn’t question him as he held me the whole way to my apartment, his fingers occasionally brushing against my body as if it was muscle memory. 

He pressed the same code into my door keypad and shoved the door open. 

“Don’t let the cat out,” I muttered. 

“The what— Oh my god.” I heard my little white kitten meow up at him. “That’s Snowball,” I said. “Or Alpine. I can’t choose.”

He sighed, a small smile on his face. “I like Alpine.”

Bucky carried me to the master bedroom and set me on the bed. I rubbed my eyes, the ache behind them starting to grow. He disappeared for a second and when he came back, he put a glass of water in my hand. “Drink this,” he said, setting my shoes in my closet. I wondered briefly where he found them before he returned from the closet with the Avengers Compound sweatshirt that used to be his, but I had reclaimed. “You can’t sleep in that dress,” he said. “Or that makeup.” 

“I’ll be fine—” I started. 

“No. You’re gonna change. I’ll give you a—”

“I can’t get the zipper myself,” I said quietly. “It’s not- It’s not a ploy… Promise.” 

He helped me to my feet and turned me around before tugging at the zipper. I felt the air hit my back a second before his hand landed at my waist. “Are you gonna remember anything from tonight?” 

“I hope so,” I said softly. Other words for definitely not. 

Bucky sighed and dropped his head to my shoulder. “I miss you,” he breathed, lips brushing against my skin. “More than I’ve ever missed anyone.” 

A pain lodged itself in my chest. It was so deep that in this moment I genuinely didn’t think it’d ever leave me. And if it did, it might just leave a hole where it sat. “Bucky…” 

“Get changed. I’ll be right back.”

When I felt his body heat disappear from me, I dropped my dress to the ground and tugged on the sweatshirt he’d set on the bed. I didn’t bother with shorts, just left my underwear on. 

I dropped onto the edge of the bed, finished my water, held my hands in my lap. 

Bucky came from the bathroom and clicked on the lamp beside my bed. He took my face in his hand and with the warm rag in his hand, wiped it gently along my face. “Close your eyes,” he said softly. 

I did as I was told. It wasn’t as in depth as I could’ve myself, but it was enough to keep my eyes from hurting in the morning.

He tossed the rag in the hamper and guided me into bed. “You need to sleep,” he said softly. 

“I’m not used to sleeping alone,” I mumbled against my pillow. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he replied, fingers combing through my hair. “Me either. But you’re gonna be okay.” 

I felt exhaustion coming for me like a thief in the night. “You think so?” 

“I know so. Sleep, baby.” 

A breath escaped me. I didn’t have the energy to speak anymore.

As sleep pulled me away, I felt his kiss against my head. Then the light clicked off and it was gone like a dream. 

[fandoms--fluff]

Hiii I hope you’re well. I love love LOVE your stories and was wondering if you could do one of Elijah mikaelson? In this context the reader is a werewolf and was his wife since the 1800s but has been on the run from him for ages (for any reason I’ll leave that up to u) Elijah finally hunts her down in mystic falls taking her back to their mansion. You can do whatever you like with this suggestion really. Also no smut but maybe lots of tension? Like pinning her against the wall during an argument or smth.

His

Immortal female werewolf reader x Elijah Mikaelson

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, mentions of death?

A/n: I had fun writing this <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I knew it was too good to be true, you think to yourself as you quickly pack a duffle bag of clothing, money, and other essentials around your apartment. Which happens to be located right in the middle of 'downtown' Mystic Falls.

You rush around the space that has brought you comfort over the past couple years. But of course everything has to end, the friendships you made here, the comfort, and having a life. Now you have to start all over again. Hopefully this time where he can't find you.

You've heard whispers about the originals and Klaus around the small town, mostly within the group of the Salvatore brothers and the others. You have made acquaintance with them after the killings started happening around a year after you had moved here. It was okay, for now, you thought, Klaus hasn't actually shown his face yet.

Until Elijah kidnapped Elena, and gave her a less than friendly warning, not to mess with the wrong people. No one knows what that means, and you're glad they haven't traced it back to you. They don't know your history beside being an immortal werewolf and basics like that. And you plan to keep it that way.

Which is why you need to leave. Now. Before he gets to you.

And that 'he', is no other than Elijah Mikaelson. The husband you once loved and have been running from for the past two centuries.

You both had once loved each other very dearly. Until it came to the night that ruined everything and made you go on the run, not standing to be near him. And you've been running ever since. You're quite surprised you've made it this long without being caught by him. Or even one of his siblings, Klaus especially.

Your thoughts are all jumbling together as you rush around your apartment. A place that brought you security and comfort, now being torn away from your grasp. Because if you stayed, then you can't even think about the pain it would leave you in by taking that action. As you try to leave as fast as you can, you can't help but think about the past. The reason why you're so frantic and have the urgency to get out of the small town in Virginia.

It had all began when you were younger, still innocent, enough that is, to the cruel dark side of the world. Of course, you already knew about your werewolf side and it had been activated when you were very young on your seventh birthday. You could never figure out why you hadn't needed to kill anyone to activate it. But it was clear you were special from a young age.

You were eighteen, mastered full control of the wolf inside you and hadn't brought pain to any one beside a few woodland creatures. You tried your best in the world, keeping your secret while also keeping up with societies rules as a young woman, as the people of your village would murmur around about you. About how you had not found yourself a suitor. A husband. But how could you? with a secret like yours? So, you kept to yourself.

That was until a new family arrived in your village. A very wealthy and mysterious family of apparent four siblings. Word spread around the small village of their names, Klaus, Rebekah, Kol, and finally, Elijah Mikaelson. Though no one knew where they came from or why they had came to this specific place. Except it was clear they had major influence.

You didn't trust them, it felt weird how they just appeared out of no where over night, something seemed off about them. You stayed clear from the new residents of the village, minding to the apothecary shop your parents owned in the corner of town.

It didn't last long though until one of the Mikaelson's came into the shop. At first you hadn't acknowledged them, hoping they would pick something up, buy it, and leave. Or just leave entirely, not even wanting them to buy anything. But luck wasn't on your side.

The strange man comes up to the counter where you're standing. "I don't believe we've met, I'm Elijah" The man, Elijah, says to you. Smiling weakly at him, just wanting him to leave, you have a bad feeling, "I'm Y/n."

He continued the conversation and left after a while. And you we're surprised to have a wish of hope that he would've stayed longer. Maybe you we're wrong about the new family. You hadn't known what you'd just gotten yourself into for the next centuries.

And so, the handsome man has come to the shop everyday since and you couldn't be anymore exhilarated. It's been so long since you've felt happiness like this.

It had been good, or so you thought. The relationship you guys had was romantic and lovely, and anything you could ever wish for. It soon turned to marriage, and you loved him and he loved you. That was until the night everything went wrong. The night you ran and have been ever since. From your one true love.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, really. But you had been on the way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water when you heard voices in your husband's study. It was him and Klaus, talking of the plan going just right with the werewolf.

Elijah had 'discovered' you were a werewolf about the same time you suspected of him being non human as well. Just you weren't expecting him to be a vampire. And it was quite strange how he wasn't surprised of you being a wolf. Which should have been your first clue. But you overlooked it, filled with love for the man. Which was a painstaking mistake. Especially when discovered after many tests that you were no longer aging after your twentieth birthday.

Your eyes widen as they mention a werewolf. Are they talking about me? You wonder, as you continue listening.

"Y/n suspects nothing of it, right?" Klaus asks his brother. "Nothing, I love her, but she can't know what we have planned, not yet" Elijah answers him from across the room.

Tears well up in your eyes as they continue talking. "There's a chance my curse will be broken by using her?" Klaus asks. "Yes, by the next full moon in two days, there is a best chance with her willing or unwillingness of the ritual, that it will be undone. You will be a full hybrid, Niklaus" Elijah grins to his younger brother, taking a sip of his drink.

You quickly cover your mouth and walk away as quickly but quietly as you can while tears run down your face. You thought Elijah loved you, just as you do him. But of course it's not. He just pretended to get close to me, you think as you get to your guys' room. You grab your cloak and nothing else before sneaking out of the massive house.

There's no point confronting your husband, it was clear there was no love to be shared between the two of you. Instead, a need to get far away from here as you can before you get caught. You should have never fallen for the original, should have never spoken to him like your gut told you to.

You stealthily make your way to the stables. No one has caught you yet, making it easy to get on the horse and start the galloping travel through the woods.

It's not until you're deep into the forest when you hear voices and men shouting. When you hear Elijah shouting for you, anger enriched in his voice. But you never look back, only making the horse go faster until you're so far that they can't keep track of you.

Until now. Elijah is here, or at least close to here. You know Elena had met with him, unwillingly. And you can't risk anything else.

You finish zipping up the bag and leave the apartment behind, going outside where your car awaits. Unlocking it, you throw the duffle in the trunk before speeding into the driver's seat.

Driving above all speed limits, you get to the border of the town before a man, a man that you could recognize anywhere appears in the middle of the road.

Fear sparks in your eyes, and instead of stopping like any sane person would do, you swerve the car and press on the gas, passing him.

It doesn't turn out so well, when you hear a thunk on the top of your car and then the man crashing his fist through the windshield, making you slam on the breaks. The breaks emit a loud and jarring squeaking sound as your breathing picks up at the sight of your husband.

Before you know it, you're manhandled out of the car and whisked away to a mansion. You fight your way out of his grip, "Let me go!" You exclaim.

He lets you out of his hold, raising his arms up. "It's been a while, my Y/n" He says, and you swear you could hear a smidge of longing in his voice. "What? Since you used me and pretending to live me just to break your brother's curse?!" Your voice booms with emotion.

After everything, a small part of you still loves the vampire in front of you. A part before you found out his plans, when he was still mysterious to you. But you can't let that cloud your vision, speech and thoughts right now.

"It wasn't like that" Elijah takes a step forward, making you take a step back, not wanting to be close to him. You scoff, "I'm not so naive now, Elijah. Of course it was like that. You knew I was a werewolf before you pretended to find out and tell me you were a vampire, a god damn a original at that" You lash out, anger and resentment coming out.

"Just hear me out my darling-" You interrupt him, "No, you can't just hunt me down for 200 years and then once finally catching me, make me listen to your lies and justification. You we're going to what? kill me? Why not just do it instead of pretending to love me and then fucking marry me."

Elijah's face falters before grabbing your arm again. He slams you up against the wall, pinning you against it. His grip on you is hard and painful.

Your eyes flash into the amber colour out of anger. You try to struggle out of his grasp, but have no luck.

"No need for those eyes, darling. For your knowledge, I did love you and marry you because of that love. To this day I still love you. Even after the running away stunt you pulled." Elijah explains to you with a hard voice.

"Good for you, but I promise you, those feelings are definitely not reciprocated" You ground out, still struggling against his hold. Elijah just leans in closer to you, you can feel his breath on your skin. "I could never love someone like you after what you planned for me" you spit in his face.

Elijah falters for a moment, giving you just enough time to switch it around and have him pinned against the wall in his place. You use your werewolf strength to hold him down. "Now, I think it's best for both of us to just move on with our lives. I mean it" You say in a loud and clear voice, no pain whatsoever leaking out. All you want to do is leave and never see this man who has caused you so much pain.

"You don't mean that" Elijah's mouth twitches up into a loose grin. "I assure you, I do" You claw your nails into his skin, making his gasp out.

With an ounce of strength, Elijah gets free from your hold and wraps his hands around your neck. They're not tight enough to block your air supply, just to get you to not move.

"We both know your feelings aren't gone for me. You love me. You just can't admit it. I have been after you for so long, you're my wife whom I love."

You scoff, "A wife who you still want to do the ritual. let me think about it" you pause to 'think'. "NO!" You exclaim in his face. Elijah's vampire face comes on display for a moment before he calms himself. "You don't need to be in the ritual. there's another way now. A new one, my darling. We can finally be together. No more running or hiding, or secrets. I give you my word" He come's closer to you again.

You pause, not knowing what his plan is. There's no way he really means those things. His 'word' may have worked two centuries ago on you, but not now. "And how am I supposed to take you seriously? Or believe a single word you just said? Just because I'm technically your wife still, doesn't mean I have to act like it." You finally tell him.

"Then I truly am sorry, darling" Elijah takes another step closer, you being a couple inches apart now. "For what?-" You get cut off.

Elijah grabs hold of you and twists you around. He quickly wraps his arms around your neck, placing a hand on your jaw and twists your neck. Breaking it.

He's lost you for this long, he's not going to take any more chances. He'll make you remember your feelings for him, whatever it takes, You're his. Even if it means keeping you as a prisoner.

[elhanoka]

i honestly don't know if someone has already pointed this out or made this correlation but i think the reason all of us are finding thamepo to be so nostalgic and romantic in the [remembers your phone number by heart] [walks you home 5 times a night] [talks to you on the phone in the evening and never hangs up when you fall asleep] [waking up to a 9+ hours phone call still ongoing and getting a wake up serenade] sense is precisely because the project has been in the works for 5 YEARS. and i don't know how long it took to write the script itself.

you guys it's been half a decade and if you're quite an oldie bl/ql watcher you know what that means. times have changed. i heard the observation that nowadays some projects are more lighthearted and lack in script and coohesive writing because the trends are changing so fast, the demand is rising and the cash is flowing — bl is a business & entertainment after all. make that coin, folks. people will always eat up boys and girls kissing on screen and im right there with them.

but remeber what we had in glorious year of 2019? the tropes? the theory of love of it all? the tharntype enemies to lovers with all its faults that are kinda cringe now... but back then it was delicious! the dark blue kiss classic? the history:3 trapped that walked so kinnporche and many more could run? that fucking salt in make our days count? the doomed soul mates of until we meet again? those were the days you guys. and we've come so far!

however, i hope the companies observe the impact that a well-made, thoughtful and personal piece of media will always have on people despite its genre... because imagine any project of the above being made in 2025! the literal hysteria it would bring out. people would go insane. fires everywhere. and this is exactly what thamepo is doing. and this is exactly why it's so outstandingly good!

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Still Sick

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 11)

A Levi x reader fanfic

Crossposted from AO3

Everything was as usual. So why were you trembling?

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 4.4k)

(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

You were standing in front of Levi's office, hand raised to knock, but for some reason, it refused to move. Instead of closing the distance between you and the door, like you wanted it to, your hand was shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. A very wet storm, since your palm was also sweating like crazy.

This had never happened to you before.

It was teatime, and normally you couldn't wait to get inside to enjoy some of that leafy goodness together. Normally.

But after yesterday, things were anything but normal.

A lot of things had happened. You'd dislocated your shoulder in a near-death experience with a Titan – the wooden training dummy type, but still – and had to be rescued by Levi, squashing your dignity even further. You'd then gotten yourself into a serious discussion with him over your participation in the next expedition. But none of that even came close to the realization that had hit you that evening: the small fact that you were in love with Levi Ackerman.

Needless to say, things were different now.

Like your heart thudding in your ears louder than a Titan's footsteps, or your arm no longer responding to your brain's commands. (There were no excuses. It wasn't even the one you'd dislocated.)

You took a deep breath. You could do this, like you had a million times before. It was just teatime. You loved teatime.

"For tea," you said, squaring your shoulders. Once again, you raised your fist into the air, moving it toward the door with all the momentum your newfound courage had bestowed upon it, and–

The door swung open.

Levi stood there, looking thoroughly unimpressed as your fist stopped just short of his face.

"The tea's getting cold," he said dryly. You could feel his breath on your hand as it awkwardly hovered there, inches away from his mouth.

You cleared your throat and quickly dropped your hand. But now you didn't know what to do with it. It just dangled at your side, suddenly feeling more like an alien appendage than a body part. You fidgeted with your sling, trying to look casual, though everything about you screamed not casual at all.

"Um," you croaked. Your mouth was dry as parchment. A currently empty parchment, for words were eluding you. It didn't help that Levi kept looking at you with that cool gaze of his, his expression as flat as ever, betraying nothing.

"I..." You started again. You swallowed. "Sorry for being late. I was busy writing the report about yesterday, and kind of lost track of time, and–"

"It's fine," Levi said dismissively. "Come in."

You nodded, trudging after him into his office, your feet heavy.

You sat down across from him at your usual spot and watched him fill up your cup with his usual smooth precision. Yes – everything was as usual. And yet. The silence between you felt heavy, somehow, like it was weighed down by all the unsaid words piling up inside of you. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling. Before yesterday, you'd always been able to say what was on your mind; now it felt like something was holding you back.

It was probably the irrational fear that, no matter what you tried to say, the words slipping out of your mouth would be I'm in love with you instead. A confession you definitely weren't ready to make. Not until you knew how he felt about you – which was probably going to be never. Unless you asked him. Should you ask him?

You looked up nervously, only to find Levi staring at you, his brows slightly raised as he studied you. Was it because you were acting weird? Were you acting weird? You shifted awkwardly in your seat.

He gave a slight nod in the direction of the teacup still sitting on the table in front of you, untouched. "You don't want your tea?"

"Oh." You felt your face heat up. "Of course."

You reached for the cup with trembling fingers, causing it to rattle against the saucer in a staccato of tiny clickety-clinks. The shaking made the tea slosh around precariously.

You tried to steady it, but with only one hand, it was impossible – some tea spilled over the edge and onto the table. You winced. You knew how much he valued cleanliness. "I'm so sorry."

Levi calmly pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped up the mess, then shot you a look. "You okay?"

"Me?" You asked, still flustered. "Oh. Yeah. I'm okay. Totally."

You took a sip of what remained of your tea and promptly choked on it, making you cough violently.

"Totally fine, clearly," Levi deadpanned.

"Couldn't be… better," you wheezed, trying to catch your breath.

For some reason, Levi didn't look too convinced.

You avoided his scrutinizing gaze, suddenly very invested in ridding your sling from every last piece of lint, both real and imaginary.

Had teatime always been this long? You glanced at the clock on the wall. It hadn't even been ten minutes. You bit your lip, the silence growing more unbearable with every passing second. You should say something – anything – to get him talking, but what?

"Do–" you started, nearly choking on the words. "Do you like cats?"

"Yes," Levi replied, giving you absolutely nothing to work with.

"Cool," you said lamely.

Argh! The tension made you want to tear out all your hair.

You tried again. "So… What do you like about them?"

A pause. "They're clean, and quite independent."

"Kinda sounds like you, doesn't it?" You chuckled nervously.

"If you say so." But there was a slight, almost imperceptible quirk to the corners of his mouth, making your heart stop, then flutter back to life at double the speed. What was he doing to your body? This couldn't be healthy. Any longer, and you might go into cardiac arrest. You had to find a way to get out of here, quickly.

Determined, you grabbed ahold of your cup, managing to finish what was left without spilling another drop. It would be suspicious if you didn't have a second, though. You held out your cup, white-knuckling the handle in an iron grip to stop it from shaking. "Could I get some more, please?"

"Sure." You watched him pour the steaming liquid into your cup. As soon as he lifted the pot, you pulled the cup away and downed it without wasting a second.

This was going better than you had expected. You'd actually be able to pull off your usual three.

You held out your cup again. "Hit me up." Levi snorted but poured you another.

You gulped it down in one go. Before you could stop yourself, you shot Levi a quick glance, just long enough to catch the raised eyebrow, then quickly dropped your gaze to your knees.

"This was great," you began stiffly. "As always. But I should probably get going now. Still got some important… reporting to do. Yep. I really have to get back to my report. So… This was great. Did I say that already? Because it was. Great. Anyway…" You shot up so quickly, you almost toppled over the chair.

Levi looked up at you with narrowed eyes. It seemed like he was about to say something, but before he had a chance to get a word in, you quickly continued. "See you tomorrow." You gave him an awkward wave as you speed-walked to the door. "Or maybe at dinner. Who knows, right?" Definitely not going to happen. There was no way you'd get any food down with him in your line of sight. You'd have to sit at the other end of the mess hall, with your back to him. There was no other option, at least not at the moment.

But it had to get better eventually, right? You'd get used to your feelings, and everything would go back to normal. Yes. You nodded as you pulled open his office door and swiftly stepped outside, resisting the urge to look back. It just had to.

The door closed behind you with a thud, the sweet sound of a wooden barrier falling into place to protect you from the root of your racing heart. Your shoulders sagged as you leaned against it, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

Was being in love supposed to be this exhausting?

– –

Just as you'd planned, you managed to avoid Levi at dinner. You weren't so lucky at breakfast, though. Your roommates hadn't been particularly taken with your suggestion of switching things up for a change of scenery, and sadly your usual seat was a prime spot for Levi-viewing. (Definitely not by coincidence either, since both Lynne and Petra, who were regulars at your table, appreciated the front-row view of Levi in all his glory.)

But they had it easy. Their appreciation showed in admiring glances and little giggles.

Yours, on the other hand, turned you into a menace – your knife slipped from your sweaty grip multiple times, almost impaling the legs of your innocent seatmates. (It was a butter knife. But still.)

It was nerve-racking. You were almost relieved when it was time for your meeting with the commander to discuss the-near-death-by-dummy incident.

Erwin beckoned you inside. "Take a seat."

You did, fiddling with your sling as you waited for the commander to speak. But he remained silent, his stern gaze fixed on you, as if he were expecting you to say something first.

So you cleared your throat and began. "I sincerely apologize for my carelessness during training. As written in the report, I was distracted by a personal matter. There are no excuses, and it won't happen again. I promise the matter is… taken care of. I figured it out after a talk with Hange." Well, kind of taken care of. But as long as you steered clear from Levi, there should be no further distractions.

Erwin acknowledged your apology with a curt nod. "As you should now understand, what happened is far from a laughing matter. The training is designed to simulate the experience of a mission as closely as possible. Full attention is a prerequisite, just as it is on a real expedition. Just one moment of carelessness can cost you your life, like it almost did for you. You experienced it firsthand, so you understand why distractions can and will not be tolerated."

You swallowed. "Yes, sir. I understand."

Erwin lifted a thick eyebrow, clearly surprised by your unexpected formality. It was unlike you, but given the seriousness of the situation, you'd felt it was called for. For a moment, neither of you said a word. His forehead creased as he studied you, as if testing your sincerity. Finally, he gave a small nod.

"After careful consideration, I have decided that, based on your performance on past missions, you will be allowed to take part in the next expedition."

A wild grin formed on your lips, and you were ready to burst out with a spate of thanks, but Erwin held up a hand, signaling he wasn't done yet.

"However, I need you to understand that this is a preliminary decision, pending your performance during the next forest training. You will be closely monitored and evaluated before I make the final decision. But I trust you learned your lesson and will be fully present mentally."

"You bet!" You exclaimed full of enthusiasm. "I will give it my all, just like I do on missions. Thank you for your trust, I promise I won't disappoint!"

Erwin scrubbed a hand over his face, but there was a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Put at ease, you continued your chatter. "Honestly, I'm so relieved. A scout wouldn't be a scout without venturing beyond the walls. Kind of like a bird with no wings." You gestured to the wings of freedom emblazoned on his uniform jacket. "So I'm glad you decided to give me a chance. Being left behind at headquarters would've felt so… wrong. And kind of lonely, too."

Erwin rubbed his chin. "I see what you mean. The expeditions are what set us apart from the rest of the military, our defining purpose. And frankly, we can't afford to leave behind good soldiers. We need every man we can get."

You beamed at him. "You can definitely count on me!"

He regarded you warmly. "You certainly have the right spirit."

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Erwin called.

Levi stepped inside, carrying a few documents. Just the sight of him made your heart lurch in your chest.

"Ugh, nowhere's safe from him," you mumbled under your breath. Erwin shot you a strange look.

Flustered, you sprang to your feet. "Thanks again for the great talk. I promise I won't let you down. I'll leave you two to it, then."

You scrambled past Levi toward the door, almost tripping in your haste to escape. Your heart, too, seemed to stumble with each frantic beat. If just seeing him had this kind of effect on you, how could you possibly survive teatime today? There was just no way.

– –

It was a quarter to four. You were pacing through your room, trying to walk off the nervous energy that coursed through your veins like the concentrated essence of one hundred cups of tea. It was a last ditch effort, part of the strategy you'd come up with to get through teatime with Levi – to be so exhausted, you'd have no other option but to be calm.

It wasn't working in the slightest. Despite taking over chores left and right all day, you were still brimming with energy. You'd even volunteered to clean the stables, groom all the horses, pick every single last hoof – all one-handed. And yet, here you were, ready to run all the way to the capital on foot if only it would get you out of having to face Levi today.

It seemed like he mobilized energy reserves you didn't even know you had. Maybe Hange should investigate this phenomenon – it could help humanity gain the upper hand over the Titans. Endless energy by way of Levi.

You let out a deep, dramatic sigh and plopped down on a chair. This wasn't working. At this rate, Levi would find out something was up. After all, he was the most observant person you knew. And even worse, he might realize what it was, and then…

And then what? You had no idea. But it couldn't be good. Maybe he wouldn't want to have teatime together anymore. The thought made your stomach clench painfully, and you exhaled hard. If only you were better at hiding your feelings. You could already picture what would happen if you didn't get your emotions in check: At best, the victim of the inevitable nervous breakdown would be a tea cup, dropped from your sweaty hand. At worst, it would be you, after your heart had finally decided to give out under the pressure. Either way, disaster was guaranteed. How could you possibly prevent that?

Time to come up with another strategy.

You started pacing again, walking back and forth along the wall lined with shelves that held your collection of teapots. Your gaze landed on one, and without thinking, you traced the rough surface with your fingertips, feeling the jagged edges where the pieces had been painstakingly glued back together. It couldn't hold tea anymore, yet it had grown to be your favorite. Not really knowing why, you'd always felt a strange warmth in your chest just by looking at it.

Now you realized it was because it reminded you of Levi. He'd been the one to fix it for you after you had accidentally shattered it, no questions asked. Because this was the kind of person he was. Unfailingly reliable. Kind, even if he acted grumpy about it. Just thinking about him made you smile. It was strange how long it had taken you to realize how you felt about him. But now, you couldn't think of anything else. His voice. His hair. The way he'd looked at you in the forest when he'd found you. The feeling of his arms around you when you had shared a horse, your back against his chest. Warm. Safe.

You pressed your hands to your heart, trying to stop it from fluttering, but it was no use. Ugh. He was an even stronger stimulant than black tea. Maybe this should be your new strategy, then: getting used to him the same way a body got used to a drug, by slowly and carefully increasing the dosage – little by little, until even large amounts had no effect anymore.

"Yes, that could totally work," you mumbled to yourself. But that also meant you had to start with small doses. Teatime was off the table for now – no need to risk an overdose.

You cracked your knuckles, walked to the table, and got out at sheet of paper. Operation ' Levi-tolerance induction' was a go.

– –

You tiptoed to his office door, the piece of paper clutched in your clammy fingers. It read: Can't make it to teatime today. Not feeling well. Sorry for the short notice! It was the best you'd been able to come up with in the limited time you'd had.

You reached the door, quickly glancing left and right to make sure the coast was clear. Crouching low, you slid the piece of paper under the door, then shot back up and made a run for it.

Just as you turned the corner, you heard the door open. He was fast, like you'd expected. You fought the reflex to peek around the corner to see his reaction. You had to be strong and walk on. It was the only way for your plan to work. "Small doses," you whispered. "Small doses."

You skipped dinner to make your excuses seem more believable, drawing from your supply of tea biscuits to avoid going hungry.

At breakfast, you did your best to look as lethargic as possible. It wasn't so easy to look ill while simultaneously stuffing your face, but you gave it your all. You needed to stock up on energy, since the step-by-step plan called for only one encounter with Levi on the first day, meaning you'd have to skip dinner again.

During your designated Levi-exposure time, however, the idea was to look at him as much as possible to build your tolerance. This didn't turn out to pose as much of a challenge as you'd thought – you couldn't seem to stop yourself from staring at him, anyway. How could a person look this good while simply buttering a slice of bread? It shouldn't be legal. Seeing him work out would probably be the end of you. Luckily, you wouldn't be exposed to that just yet.

Because of your arm, the only training you were assigned to at the moment was stamina training – for today, that meant training together with squad Mike, so you'd be able to avoid Levi then. But you already feared for your heart when it would inevitably be squad Levi's turn.

For teatime, you slid another paper under his door – Can't make it. Still sick. – then fled the scene again. All that stamina training was really paying off.

You kept this up for days, strategically avoiding Levi while gradually increasing your exposure. It seemed to be working, but it also felt a little lonely. This was the longest you'd gone without talking to him since you'd met, and teatime alone in your room just didn't feel the same.

Fortunately, you wouldn't have to stick it out much longer. According to your plan, today would be the last day of skipping your shared tea.

As you walked down the hallway towards Levi's office, a small smile tugged at your lips. "Just one more day," you whispered, tightening your grip on the note in your hand. Still sick.

You hadn't realized how much you'd missed him, despite seeing him every day. It just wasn't the same without talking to him.

You crouched down in front of his door the same way you always did, but this time, the moment felt almost solemn. With a final nudge, you pushed the note underneath it.

The door flew open in an instant, and before you could even think of running away, he had already pulled you inside. Levi. You stared at him, wide-eyed with shock.

"I know you're not sick," he said, his hand still closed around your wrist. "You were at training every single day, so that can't be it. Something's wrong. Tell me what it is."

His gaze seared into your face, searching it for an answer. Your heart was thudding in your ears, your mind completely blank. All you could do was stare at him like a cornered animal, all thoughts eluding you. You couldn't get one word out. To make things even worse, you started to tremble.

Something flashed over his face, his brow furrowing just slightly. He let go of your wrist and stepped back. "Have some tea, first."

You legs felt numb as you walked over to the table and sat down. He pushed the cup toward you, and you took it, mechanically taking a sip. You still didn't know what to say. I'm head over heels for you, so I was trying to build up a tolerance, which clearly hasn't worked, because I'm still a nervous wreck around you. You couldn't possibly say that. It was your first time keeping words inside like that, consciously holding them back. It was almost painful for you. You really were sick. Lovesick.

Your eyes flicked up to Levi's face. He was still looking at you. His eyebrows were drawn together in a frown. You were so tense, you almost flinched when he started speaking again.

"You seem to be avoiding me. Why?"

"I–" you started. You wrung your hands, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. Levi waited for you to continue, but you still couldn't think of something to say. You just sat there, miserably staring at your hands.

"Is it because of what I said about you staying behind for the next expedition?"

Your eyes snapped to his. "What? No."

"Then why?"

"It's… It's not like I'm angry with you or anything. I'm sorry if I made you think that. It's just that…" You exhaled a shaky breath. "Can I...ask you something?"

"Sure."

"… What do you love most in this world? For me, I always thought it was tea but…" You trailed off. "Anyway, you don't have to answer this right now, just picture it in your head. And now, this next part is hypothetical, but…" You nervously played with your sling. "If a fire broke out here, and everyone else had already evacuated, but I was still inside, passed out from the smoke… What do you save? Me or… Your dust rag, or whatever. Whatever you love most." The last part was a lame attempt at a joke, but you didn't dare look up to see his reaction.

Levi snorted. "That's a stupid question."

You swallowed. Of course it was.

"Of course I would save you."

You jerked your head up. "You would?"

Levi nodded, his eyes fixed on you. You felt your face heat up under the intensity of his gaze.

"You… You can only save one, though, I forgot to say that part."

"Still you."

"Oh." Oh. Your breath caught. Did that mean…?

"It wasn't much of a choice," Levi muttered, his voice low and raspy, as if the words had been caught in his throat.

Your eyes widened. Your body started to tingle all over. Levi felt the same…?

You noticed the way he was looking at you, this strange softness around his eyes, open and raw, everything inside them bared.

He felt the same!

A wild happiness soared in your chest, spreading through you like liquid warmth, making your face light up with the widest, fiercest smile, too powerful to hold back – but you didn't have to hold back anymore.

"I'm so glad you feel the same," you told him, still beaming at him. You felt weightless, like everything pressing down on you had suddenly been lifted.

And there it was, tugging at the corners of his lips – his own quiet smile.

You couldn't sit still anymore, so you got up, but getting up wasn't enough, so you rounded the table, and then you took his hand, because the only way to make it feel enough was to be close to him.

"Levi," you said. He was looking up at you, and you were looking back at him. "I like you more than tea."

"You do, huh."

"Yep. A lot more, actually. Tea never made me this nervous. Not even twenty cups of it."

A pause. His eyes crinkled. "So that's what this was."

You nodded furiously. "I was so nervous, I couldn't think straight. I guess I was worried you wouldn't feel the same." You tugged at his hand, pulling him up to you. "But I'm not nervous anymore."

You pulled him even closer, until there was no distance left between you, your heart beating against his again, just like on the day he had rescued you.

"Not even a little?" he asked, his gaze locked with yours. Levi's palm was warm against your face as he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing a slow path down your chin. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine.

"Maybe a bit…" Your voice was just a breathy whisper against his lips.

His answer was lost as he closed the distance between you, but you could feel it in the brush of his lips against yours. "Good."

Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself get lost, no longer sure where you started and he ended.

When you opened them again, your tea had long gone cold. You didn't mind. You had something warm right here.

A/n: It finally happened! I can't believe I'm saying this, but the end is fast approaching. The next chapter will be an epilogue, so this actually marks the last full-length chapter of the tea lovers. See you soon <3

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou, @huffleruffplant, @shutupp1, @iifrui, @shakysif, @ickearmn, @omlyurslvi, @wingoodlilboymyway, @dreamersbelieveinus

[catboymoments]

I feel like you’ve kinda changed a lot recently tbh.

Like I don’t mean any harm. I just mean you went from not being okay with things like Bakudeku, selfcest and other extreme kinks, etc, but now you’re all like, yeah that’s all fine.

Like, what changed your mind on all that? (Genuinely asking)

Also, follow up, what things in fiction do make you feel uneasy?

((Cause I recall you mentioning things like enjoying drawing gore or listening to songs about cannibalism))

This is a bit of a weird ask but since you’re asking genuinely and nicely I’ll expound

Short answer: I got older

Long answer: I grew up, I met a lot of people and realized that there’s a lot of things irl that don’t really… matter that much in fiction? Or matter less? Or they’re really not as bad or world ending as I once thought they were when I was a teenager. When your world gets bigger than the walls of your high school, the things you worried about in fictional worlds become less significant.

for starters let me say that I was never not okay with selfcest I just didn’t really say anything about it until it was brought up, like I really don’t see how it’s a problem. It’s just the age old question of “would you fuck your clone.” and I was a bit of a late bloomer sexuality wise but I’ve always been a bit less vanilla when it comes to kinks- I just keep most if not all of my discussions and art of it in private conversations or under lock and key on priv. I value my privacy and I only want adults to see it.

What changed my view on doing different stuff in fiction was the revelation that I can explore darker topics and complex relationships without it being a moral failing or me endorsing or condoning it and I don’t have to just stick to making fluff. I don’t have to keep my content “”unproblematic”” because it’ll make me problematic somehow, that’s just not how it works. Like I can write about bad stuff in fiction and write stuff as horror and abuse or just explore relationships and how they’d be good or bad and examine tragedy from a well rounded lens. It was like Rock Lee taking off his leg weights for me. I can draw anything .

What makes me uneasy in fiction is when dark topics are romanticized or sexualized. when they’re presented as something “hot” or desirable, or it’s made not with the intention of telling a story or being significant- like for example there’s a difference between someone writing a fic about Hunter being a victim of csa and the horror of that vs someone writing a smutty fic of Hunter x Belos for the purpose of whacking off. There’s a difference between gore and violence on a character for the sake of torture and pain vs angst for a reason. Angst that makes sense. Bad things happen in real life and are okay to be portrayed in fiction, but sometimes I can tell when something is meant to be masturbatory. That’s what makes me uncomfortable!

Also I had a fascination with gore ever since I was a little kid and found warrior cats amvs and I drew a lot of battle scenes with red pen but I think I got all of that out of my system in childhood, I don’t draw gore anymore for the sake of gore LOL like I can’t even play mouthwashing bc I know it’ll make me nauseous

I hope this helps ??

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  @midsummer-semantics! QueenOfSwords1312 has posted 51 fics to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and 50 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@tedewitt recommends the following works by @midsummer-semantics:

A Kind of Merry War

Free-Use Health Care

Dia de los Muertos

The Fool, The World, and Everything in Between

Don't threaten me with a good time

"Jordan is an incredible writer first and foremost. They have a passion for writing that you don’t see every often. Their fics transport you into the world they’ve built and breathe new life into familiar characters." -- @tedewitt

Below the cut, @midsummer-semantics answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I’ve somehow managed to make these guys my entire personality since they very very briefly interacted two years ago. Weirdly enough, I wasn’t even a huge fan of Steve until s4 (blasphemy, I know), but the Steddie brainrot took hold immediately and I feel like they’re genuinely such adaptable characters that putting them in a million different situations and seeing how they’d interact is one of the best parts.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Getting together, hands down. I will read them getting together in the same way a million times and never get tired of it, but everyone writes such interesting ways that it’s always good every single time.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Didn’t know they were dating. The small acts of domesticity that leads them to the realization they’ve basically been together without the kissing (and other things) all along it so fun and funny to me. Especially if it’s what leads to Steve’s sexual awakening.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

“Come what may (i will love you until my dying day)” by emurph_24. It changed my life in so many amazing ways and I credit that fic as the reason why I got into the fandom space itself and not just writing my little fics for funsies. Plus, the author is my wife now.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Eventually I’d love to write a proper Getting Back Together fic, but I hate making them fight and break up so it’s going to take some mental and emotional gymnastics in order to do that first before the good thing happens.

What is your writing process like?

It varies. Either I start with a proper detailed outline, every major plot point I want to hit laid out with a checklist and I go through each part until I’ve hit them all. Or I have one single idea or inspirational quote/event/story I heard somewhere in mind and I just insert Steddie into it instead. The first one takes me weeks to get through. The second I usually end up writing 10k in a day. Either way, I talk through pretty much everything with Tara (TEDewitt) and Erin (emurph_24) before and during the writing, and they’re the best hype-people and betas anyone could ask for.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I almost always start fics with the name of the person whose point of view will be used within the first sentence. “Eddie Munson is a fool.” “They’ve been dancing around each other for months and it’s driving Eddie up the wall.” “Steve knows he and Eddie are close.” I’m not sure why I do that, but I think it just makes it easier on my brain to know right away whose brain I’m using. I also hope it makes things clearer for people who read my stuff.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I tend to post when I finish writing (once Tara and Erin have had a chance to look through it), but I’d never published an entire fic chapter by chapter once it’s entirely written. I usually post chapters as I finish them, which makes me pretty bad about irregular updates (Sorry!). But I’ve been part of a few events now that have posting schedules and those have been WORLDS better about keeping me on track for things.

Which fic are you most proud of?

It’s a toss-up between “The Fool, The World, and Everything in Between,” “Free-Use Healthcare,” and “A Kind of Merry War.” The first is my longest fic and what I feel is the first real deep-dive into the characters, and it’s my baby. The second just did really really well and I’m still a little in shock by it. And the third was not only fun but everything I like to see in Shakespeare adaptations so it was a successful adaptation in my book.

How did you get the idea for Don't threaten me with a good time?

We all know the phrase “write what you know” and I’ve, frankly, lived a really weird life. So the story is literally just a Steddified version of a celebrity run-in I had on my birthday a few years back.

When writing The Fool, The World, and Everything in Between, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect it to be as long as it is lol I mean, I knew it was going to be 22 chapters, but I didn’t really know going in how long those chapters would be.

What inspired The Fool, The World, and Everything in Between?

The major arcana, and my desire to write a fix-it of volume 2. I just really think Eddie deserved to live and the major arcana do tell “the fool’s story” so it was a great way to make that happen.

What was your favorite part to write from Dia de los Muertos?

The first kiss. Well, the entire thing was fun to write, but again, I’m a sucker for those boys getting together, and Eddie’s little panic attack when he surprise-kisses Steve the first time because he just can’t help it was so fun.

How do/did you feel writing Free-Use Health Care?

Like a horny goblin took over my brain and was controlling me Ratatouille-style until suddenly there was 10k words in less than 24 hours. It wasn’t even supposed to be two parts, it was only going to be one with an open ending, but I literally couldn’t stop thinking about a part 2 as I was writing part 1 so here we are.

What was the most difficult part of writing A Kind of Merry War?

Textual interpretation. I’m really familiar with Much Ado About Nothing from years of working with it, but trying to make the actual lines from the play that are featured in the fic make sense in a way that is easily understandable to non-Shakespeare fans without derailing the pacing or taking people out of the story was an insane balancing act. I like to think I nailed it, though.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

In “Where lovers used to live (But they’ve been gone for quite some time)”, Steve finally gets to have the post-Eddie breakdown he deserves, but interwoven in that breakdown is repeated flooding of memories of how they got together before Eddie died. My favorite is when they’re getting a small moment in the RV just the two of them and Eddie is reading the Silmarillion to Steve, and Steve makes Eddie promise that when they survive the battle, they’ll run away together. Broke my own heart writing it, but god it was good.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I always have something up my sleeve, but the current and most exciting is the Eddie Munson Big Bang. I’m working with helpimstuckposting on an omegaverse Practical Magic AU called “Pressure in Increments,” coming very soon!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I’ve really met some of the coolest people in the world through this fandom and I think their friendship has really helped this not die for me even when there’s times it gets overwhelming or I feel like I’m losing momentum to write. I know that no matter what else is going on, I have the boys and my friends in my corner, and that’s the best part of it all.

Thank you to our author, @midsummer-semantics and our nominator, @tedewitt! See more of QueenOfSwords1312's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[stellamarielu]

I know we all know how good Declan is in bed. How he caters to his partner’s needs first - how confident he is about it.

But I feel like his first time post Maude would be different. His confidence knocked down a bit. Idk. But just a possible fix/drabble thot 😬

THIS!!

I received a similar request about a month ago and I started writing a fic for it and never finished. [whomp whomp] so anon from december who asked for fluffy declan realizing sex can be about more than just pleasuring his partner, please take this little drabble as my formal apology.

he would be nervous and a little intimidated the first time he had you naked in his bed. he was doing everything in his power to remain composed and in control all evening, but now with you all spread out on his sheets, he felt tense and a little unsure of himself. christ-sake, he had been with the same woman for over twenty years, not to mention that woman had an affair. declan often wondered if it was more than just his work habits that caused his wife to stray from their marriage bed. he was so sure that she was always satisfied seeing as though every sexual encounter started with him between her legs, but now he was in his head wondering if maybe he wasn't as good as he thought he was. what if he wasn't good enough for you. fuck- what if he can't get you off? what if you think he's bad in bed? what if he does something you don't like? what if he doesn't compare to the other- much younger men you've slept with?

he couldn’t seem to stop the thoughts tumbling around in his brain. it must’ve been apparent because you sat up in front of him placing a gentle hand on his chest only to be met with the alarming rush of his heartbeat.

“is everything okay?”

“yeah, yeah.” he’s nodding and you’re not sure if he’s trying to convince you or himself that everything is fine.

“it’s just- i’m feeling a little nervous.” his voice is quiet underneath his breath.

you’ve never heard him sound so shy, it made you want to wrap him in a reassuring hug. the two of you were fully undressed in his bedroom, the situation already vulnerable enough without his worried confession.

“i’m not really used to this.” he’s motioning between the two of you.

“you know, sleeping with someone who isn’t my wife.” as soon as the words leave his mouth he wants to kick himself. what a way to start out– talking about his wife, or ex-wife, or whatever she was to him now.

“it must be strange.” your reply is soft, but still drawing him from his thoughts.

you don’t want him to be anxious, there was nothing to worry about. not with you.

so you take it upon yourself to spur his confidence.

“you know, i think about this a lot declan?”

“i daydream about what it would be like to be touched by you.”

the hand that's resting on his chest begins to brush over tufts of chest hair as it moves slowly, exploring his skin.

"what it would be like to touch you."

your voice is clear and clean but the words coming out of your mouth are so dirty. you have declan's complete attention now, his eyes are trained on you and his heart is still racing underneath your fingertips, only this time for an entirely different reason.

"but we don't have to-" you can't even finish your sentence before you're being interrupted.

"I want to." declan is rushing out his words of consent, his eyes searching yours.

"Good." your voice drops to something far more sultry as you sit up on your knees, using the hand at declan's chest to usher him backwards until he's the one laying on the sheets.

"Maybe I can help you relax a little bit."

you're kissing his neck, each groan that leaves his mouth cheering you on further as your lips descend down his body.

[mseden-fries]

Lemme just say, right off the bat, that your art is so freaking amazing.

I was in the Hey, Arnold! fandom eons ago, (in the 90s), and used to write fics for it. (I was Carrot Top at the time.) I loved loved loved Helga, and she has always been in my top 5 favorite cartoon characters of all time.

You write them so well, and I've been having such a good time going through your blog and checking out the comic.

Super, super well done. Thank you for sharing!

Gah! Ur gonna make me cry 🥹 I actually didn’t become a fan until I was around 10 years old myself and although I did like art, I wasn’t sure what kind of art I wanted to pursue in the future. It wasn’t until I watched the hey Arnold movie, the first one, that I knew what I wanted to do which was to create comics. I actually remember never watching an episode just watching the movie over and over and over and not even realizing that there was a show for it 😅 but then we were pretty poor and actually our house just burned down so we were staying in a church house until we found a new place to live and they had a lot of VCR’s that we could watch including a bright orange nickelodeon VCR titled the Hey Arnold movie.

I remember joining the fan group on Facebook that was called the Hey Arnold save the jungle movie and being a part of the fan base when the movie finally got made and just being super excited about it like it was a dream come true ❤️ I can say with complete certainty that the reason I pursue making comics now is all because of hey Arnold, it is my first love and I’m having fun making this comic and I’m glad that people actually enjoy reading it too! I started making this years after the hype died down, but there was still a lot that I felt was left unsaid in the jungle movie that as a fan, I wanted to explore not to take away from the original, but I just needed more

And that’s why I’m doing this, also to improve myself

Sorry, that was probably not the question you asked, but I feel like I had to get that out lol! When things were tough growing up, I could pop in that orange VCR tape and feel a little better about everything  



[mscherub]

Self Care is Important, Spudling (Vil Schoenheit x Reader)

Gender neutral reader, referred to as Y/N, Prefect, Potato, or Spudling (a lot with Vil, lol)

Warnings!:

Stressed Reader

Passing out

Lack of self care; Reader

Small mental breakdown; Reader

Word Count:

Approximately 2.58k

Of course- of course Crowley had to assign you maintenance work on campus...again. I mean was this guy serious? Fixing up some architecture, whether that be painting or patching up small holes, then you had to fix up the flower beds, make them look presentable and pretty! Better points for the college, Crowley says. Sadly, however, you’re not done yet, because you have to go help out with a few clubs and observe them since you haven’t, and well, kind of can’t join one yourself, this again was to earn your keep as a student, Crowley says. Then of course, there’s the never ending supply of homework from Professor Trein and Crewel, which you have still yet to do since you’ve been so choked up with everything else Crowley dumps onto you on a daily basis. All for you to earn your keep in Ramshackle, all for you to earn your keep of you and Grim being considered students. And all for you to earn your keep of just barely even living!

It’s tiring, a cumbersome array of tasks on your list that only seems to get longer and longer each day. You get to bed late, and then you have to get up at 6, get yourself ready, get Grim ready, make breakfast, take the hike up to school, and the cycle repeats. You’re tired. You’re oh so tired…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You sit in class, your head bobbing slightly as you try and force your eyes open. You shake your head and rub your eyes, an action that has become the norm for you the past few days. You fight back multiple yawns as Trein finds it to be a disrespectful act in his classroom for some odd reason, though it’s his fault his lessons are so boring. You sigh and you look down at your paper, the words jumbled up to your mind and incomprehensible. Grim scribbles away at his assignment and he does a double take as he looks at you, tapping your forehead with his paw and gets you to look at him.

“Ya look like you’re dying.” He whispers as he crosses his paws, his face graced with an apprehensive look. He lets out a small puff of air and he narrows his eyes at you.

“Feels like it.” You take the time to rub your temples this time and stretch something out, anything to keep you awake at this point.

Luckily for you, the bell tolls and everyone shoots up from their seats, taking their books and papers and getting the hell out of the classroom to escape from the quiet lul of that annoying monotone voice of Trein. You stand up yourself, groggy and a little disheveled as you finally yawn and walk out with Grim.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Coach Vargas has you all doing a whole bunch of workouts. First it was sit ups, then push ups, step ups on the bleachers, lunges, and now you have to run figure eights out on the field. Grim cheats and floats as usual (wtf man…) and you run alongside the other students, already out of breath.

Of course your mind wanders off to the assignments, reviewing over the items at hand. Trein’s history essay is due tomorrow in class and you haven’t started it yet, so there’s that. You also have to do a write up on the one lab in alchemy for Crewel— woah…

Your vision goes a bit blurry, you stumble a bit as you slow down, your body suddenly giving up on itself and practically going slack. Then you fall face first into the ground, passing out, and going limp, resembling closely to a sack of potatoes.

Students suddenly stop and look at you as you lay upon the ground. Coach Vargas yells for them to get back to work until he also takes sight of you. Well shit.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Your head pounds and throbs as you finally come back to your senses, you flutter your eyes open slowly but the bright cool white color of the fluorescent lights prohibits you from opening your eyes anymore than just a squint. You try to sit up but your body feels it’s being weighed down by tons and tons of lead.

Grim pops up and he seems to be saying something but the words just sound like a cacophony of vowels as you slowly come back to the state of consciousness.

“Henchhuman! Henchhuman! What happened? You like…died! Don’t do that again!” He pouts at you, clearly worried as he gently paws at your arm. A nurse walks in and assesses you, giving you some sort of potion that tastes like strong rosemary and a hint of garlic, then sends you on your way.

“You were out for like an hour and a half, and everyone in class saw ya just fall right over! Ace created a big scene! And, not just that, Vargas princess carried you out! Bridal style or whatever they call it. It’s gonna be the talk of the school soon, no doubt.” Grim huffs and puffs, shaking his head and heavily gesticulating to further prove his point of concern.

“I’m just tired, Grim. Severely tired, stressed, all of the above.” You sigh, shaking your head. You rub your temples and continue to walk forwards.

“Clearly. I gotta tell Crowley off or something! He’s slowly burning you out...only I can do that since you're my henchman…” He murmurs “You need to take a break. A nice break.” He looks at you and smirks.

“Grim, what are you implying?” You narrow your eyes at him and cross your arms, halting.

“You’ll see, Hemchuman!” He chortles.

“Grimmy, I-“

He zooms past you and makes his way to the mirror chamber within the school. Your head still hurts but you can let him go off and cause trouble on his own, which he will do!

By the time you get to the mirror chamber, praying that Grim didn’t head to a dorm where even breathing wrong could be destructive, you can see the mirror to Pomefiore still rippling. You pause and your eye twitches, fucking hell, he did not.

You head through. What happened to him saying you needed a break?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When you get through the mirror, Grim is still nowhere in sight, which only means he’s inside of the building. Great! One thing after another it seems.

You head into the castle-like place and walk through the ornate and sparkly hallways, passing by students who pause and go quiet at your appearance, which is tired, hungry, and pissed the fuck off due to the shenanigans Grim is pulling currently at the moment.

As you finally push into the lounge, Grim is yapping to Vil, Grims eyes contorted into a look of worry and his face holding a small amount of smugness to it. Vil does a double take when looking at you, and as soon as you lock eyes with him, he looks you up and down, his eyes going a little wide as if he had just seen his makeup pallet get destroyed. A prominent frown envelopes his features, replacing his once stoic and demure demeanor.

“Spudling…” is all he sighs out. The disappointment in his voice is enough alone to make you hold back any complaints you had to tell to Grim.

You’re irked, and your shoulders tense as you look away bashfully. You look at Grim who floats next to Vil, his chin held high as he smiles like he’s won all the tuna he could ever ask for.

“Eyes on me.” His stern voice reaches your ears and you look back at him, your lips pursed and your hands now behind your back, standing at attention.

“Look at you…” he sighs again as he walks over to you, his eyes narrowed and unwavering as he inspects you carefully, most likely pinpointing everything wrong with you.

“Rook relayed the information to me as to what happened during PE. I would have found you myself if not for Grim leading you here. At least he’s useful for that.” He clicks his tongue, a regular action for him to make while disapproving of something.

“Truly, what makes you think what you’ve been doing is any good?” He crosses his arms and shifts his weight to one leg as he waits for a response.

“I. Well. You just- I don’t think you’d really understand, Vil, if I can be honest.” You shake your head. “I have to do it. To stay here, you know? So, it’s whatever. I’m fine, I promise. Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night and that’s it-“

“Don’t play coy. Anyone can see that you’ve been disregarding your own body’s needs for more than just a night, and sleep is not the only thing you seem to be lacking.”

His words cause you to bristle up, your muscles close to cramping at how tense you’ve become. He looks at you still with a frown and the unamused tone in his voice is…unnerving.

“Ok, well, it’s things I need to get done-“

“I won’t sit here and listen to your feigning utterance.” Vil sighs, yet again, uncrossing his arms and moving to place a hand on your shoulder. In contrast to his demeanor, his touch is soft yet grounding. You visibly relax and you sigh out a soft breath.

“I’ll have Rook see Grim to Heartslabyul, you’re not leaving until I deem you fit to go on your way.” He hums as his hand slides to your upper back, silently and slowly ushering you to follow behind him. His heels click on the ground as you're already halfway down the hall, just now realizing what his words imply for you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s true Vil took a liking to you, but he’d never admit that, his ego could be damaged, and he prefers to show that he cares through actions, anyhow, being a strong believer in that they speak louder than words.

As soon as you both reach Vil’s dorm room, he has you sit down at his vanity, gently spinning the seat so you’re face-to-face with yourself in the mirror.

“Your eyebags are so dark, and your eyes are sunken in, as well. Your hair also happens to be dry in appearance and texture. Are you eating? I’d hope so, because there is no way to take care of your body by skipping meals.” He rants on as his hands gently work to slip off your blazer, slipping it off of you and draping it over the chair.

“I forgot to eat.” You lie. A white lie. You weren’t that far off from the truth, skipping meals was necessary in your case, money was low and Grim needed to eat more than you, a sacrifice you were willing to make.

Vil pauses, his hands resting on the back of the chair as he looks at you through the mirror. If he kept frowning at you like that he’d get wrinkles, then blame you.

“Pitiful excuse, potato.” He clicks his tongue. “I hope you realize that you don’t have to lie to me.” He shakes his head.

“Wait, Vil, how the hell did you even…I’m not gonna ask.” You cross your arms.

“You’re easy to read, Prefect. You’re not as imperceptible as you may make yourself out to be” He huffs out.

“Lay it on me. It’s good to vent, Potato. It’s quite beneficial, especially to those who have a lot on their mind. It provides an escape.” His voice dips a little lower, becoming softer. You look at him through the mirror again and you see his facial features severely lacking that contemptuous look he always has, and instead it’s replaced with a soft, almost empathetic look.

“I…” is what you can manage to croak out for a second before you clear your throat and look down at your hands in your lap, leaning back in the chair.

“I guess, well. Crowley, you know him. I just have been busy with the work he’s given me, and also the assignments I have to do. Money is tight as always…I have to be careful with what I or Grim buys, so…” you slowly stammer out, the frustration and tiredness in your voice evident.

“I’m just stressed out. Tired, which I guess that’s clear to anyone, though.” Your voice quivers slightly, and before you even know it tears fall down your face, a sentiment to your situation.

You don’t hear any reprimanding from Vil, no sighs or clicks of tongues as you keep your head down, no, none of that. Vil gently moves off to the side of the chair and turns you to face him, gently dabbing at the tears that cascade down your cheeks with a tissue.

“I’m sorry…” you manage to mutter out weakly.

“Nonsense. It’s normal, sweet potato.” He gently murmurs back, his voice mellifluous and calming, anchoring you back to the moment. You take the tissue from his hand and you turn your head away.

“If it makes you feel better, I too, cry. There’s a science behind it in which it releases chemicals to promote a sense of well being.” He hums. “As well as eases pain.”

“I would have never guessed.” You sigh out, albeit sarcastically, now dabbing at your nose.

“Sarcasm? I see you're slowly reviving.” A small smirk forms on his face as he shakes his head.

“I think we have a self care night set in place for us, what do you say?” He inquires.

You hesitate for a moment but you meet his questions with a small nod, earning a genuine and gentle smile from Vil.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You are pampered, of course. It’s only natural. Vil goes to any extent for the people he holds dear, and you were in need of a night of relaxation. You are fed well with a nutrient dense meal to hopefully make up for your lack of care for your eating habits, and now there’s more in store…

After a few strenuous minutes of following his lengthy skincare routine, you both sit clad in silk robes that are probably worth more money than you could ever make in your life, but the moment is still peaceful. And even more to your surprise, you sit with Vil in his raw form. No makeup, no demeanor that yells “I’m the Vil Schoenheit,” no, just Vil.

He hums quietly as he deliberately shapes your nails, not sparing you a glance as he’s too focused at the task at hand. The calmness of the atmosphere is doing no help in keeping you awake and alert and you soon find your eyes start to grow heavy.

Vil quietly excuses himself to head over to grab a bottle of clear coat for your nails, but before you know it, you fall back onto the comfy bed sheets of his bed, perfume and other scents sending you into a deep sleep before you could even stop yourself from doing so.

“Y/N, would you like color or just the clear coat-“ He looks at you, shutting up immediately as his arms fall to his side. His footsteps are light as he shuffles over to the side of his bed, looking down at you. He sighs and shakes his head.

he moves the comforter over your body, bringing it up to your shoulders. He leans down slowly and places a tentative and soft kiss to your temple before leaning back up.

“This is why self care is important, spudling. I’ll let this slide…just once.”

I don’t know what I was on when I wrote this, but yep, that’s it. Thanks for reading lovelies!

Annnndddd, requests and asks are open!!! ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ just be sure to read the rules before sending in a request!

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Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)