#i don’t normally say this about my own writing maybe bc i’ve read it so many times as i’m writing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inkvvvells · 1 year ago

Text

galaxy on fire - prelude (thrawn x original female character)

Title: galaxy on fire Pairing: Thrawn x OFC Rating: M (eventually) Warnings: violence, torture, blood (eventual mentions of past assault, slavery. eventual sexually explicit content) Other Things: Enemies to friends to lovers, SLOW BURN, both the Empire and Rebels suck, touched starved, competency kink… I don’t know what else lol Summary: Born into slavery on the Outer Rim, Celena thinks she finally has a surefire plan to buy her freedom from a Hutt crime family. But everything goes wrong when she’s caught by Imperials and accused of being a Rebel and just when she thinks things can’t get any worse she meets a certain Grand Admiral…

Note: This may or may not be the start of a longer fic. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while now and I haven’t posted fic in YEARS because normally I don’t want to post anything that’s not finished and I don’t finish anything but… idk. Here I am, lol. I like the idea of someone just trying to exist in this galaxy with no ties or love for either side. I know that most fic on here that people want is x reader fics but as I sometimes tldr introspection I don’t think I can pull that off for an x reader fic because I don’t want to tell anyone how to feel lol. So enjoy I guess, maybe I’ll write more. I might also rewrite this bc I’m not happy with it. I just wanted to bang this intro out and see what happens so… BASICALLY I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING!!

Note 2: Also I realize that this is like confessing to sins but I haven’t read the new Thrawn trilogy. I am an expanded universe girlie and I have never emotionally recovered from them axing all of that. I’ve based this Thrawn mostly off Rebels with the EU in the back of my mind. Will I read those books? Maybe? I know Zhan wrote them and I trust him but I am a bitter, petty, salty bitch SOOOOO. There will likely be some references to things and characters from the EU (most likely Mara Jade and Thrawn’s reasons for joining the Empire). Sorry not sorry. If when I read the canon books I may incorporate parts of that. IDK.

Note 3: Also I pictured Deepika Padukone as Celena. But feel free to picture her however you want.

Note 4: I don’t really like this title so it will likely change.

—

PRELUDE

“I will ask you again, Rebel Scum,” Governor Pryce’s voice was cold as ice. “Where are the Rebels who sent you?!”

Celena’s ears were ringing and her vision was blurry. They had been like this for hours, with her strapped to a gurney and Pryce torturing her and yelling, demanding to know who sent her. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so painful, the fact Pryce was so convinced that Celena was with the Rebellion when in fact she hated the Rebellion.

Almost as much as she hated the Empire.

Celena had been caught trying to steal a weapons cache just outside of the Imperial base on Lothal. The most curious thing about it was she had been alone. It was daring to be sure but it raised the question of who sent her. She was human, late twenties with brown skin and long almost wild dark hair. She would have been beautiful if she hadn’t been strapped down and covered in blood and grime.

“I already told you,” Celena raised her head to look up at Pryce. Her head was throbbing from the gash in it and she could feel blood trickling down her cheek. “I’m not with the Rebels.” “Do you really expect me to believe that?” Pryce leaned closer to her.

“I don’t care what you believe,” Celena winces. “It’s the truth.”

Pryce sighs overexaggeratedly and takes a step back. “There are other ways of making you talk,” she gestures to the IT-O hovering in the corner of the room. “I simply wanted to give you the opportunity to say it on your own terms.”

“Wow,” Celena rolls her eyes. “How generous of you. With all the torture I totally missed how nice you are.”

Pryce’s nostrils flare and she hits the button controlling the shock treatment, sending another course of electricity and pain through Celena’s entire body. Celena tries to hold back her scream but fails and her scream seems to only make Pryce more excited. Almost like she was getting off on this.

“I’ll give you one more chance or this is going to get very painful for you,” Pryce says menacingly. “Where are the Rebels who sent you?”

Celena can tell Pryce is getting annoyed and she can’t help but be amused by that. A smirk tugs on her lips one that seems to make Pryce even more annoyed. “Do your worst.”

Pryce snarls, she’s about to bring over the IT-0 droid when the doors to the room slide open. She freezes when she sees who has entered the room. “Grand Admiral,” Pryce tenses slightly.

“Is this the thief?” Thrawn says, not even looking at Pryce, instead his attention is on Celena.

Celena doesn’t say anything, she just looks at Thrawn. Her eyes narrow slightly as he moves to stand in front of her. She doesn’t seem impressed or scared of him.

“I was just about to use the serum on her,” Pryce replies.

“You’ve been questioning her for hours Governor,” Thrawn is still looking at Celena. “And she has yet to break. Perhaps you are losing your touch.”

“I just need more time Grand Admi–” Pryce is cut off by Thrawn raising a hand to silence her.

“You are done here Governor, you may go,” Thrawn says dismissively. Pryce bristles slightly, for a moment it looks like she’s going to protest but then she leaves. Celena chuckles weakly. “Ohh… she didn’t like that,” Celena muses. “No,” Thrawn says. He continues to stare at Celena, as if he’s trying to figure out who she is just from looking at her. “If you’re going to torture me I’ve had worse…” Celena winces as she raises her head to look up at him. She’s realizing now that unlike all the other Imperials he isn’t human, she makes a slightly confused sound. “Something amuses you?” “You’re …not human.”

“How observant of you.”

“And you’re with the Empire? …why?”

Thrawn raises a brow. It was curious to him that this woman would think to ask that when she was the one captive, she was the one being tortured. And yet she was curious about something that to him was trivial in this moment.

“What is your name?” Thrawn asks instead of replying.

It was a question that Pryce hadn’t bothered to ask her.

“Celena.” “Celena. No surname?”

“...no.”

“Are you a Rebel?” “Your friend seems to think so.”

“Governor Pryce has a tendency to be… overzealous in her methods,” Thrawn leans in closer to Celena, as if he’s studying. “Is that what you’d call it?” Celena scoffs slightly. She feels uneasy under the gaze of his glowing red eyes. She’s met Chiss before so it wasn’t his eyes that unnerved her it was something about the way he was looking at her.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” she asks.

Thrawn tilts his head. “Thrawn.”

“...your actual name.”

Thrawn pauses a moment. “Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” she repeats. She doesn’t seem to struggle saying his name as most humans would. There is barely even a hint of an accent as she says it.

Thrawn is surprised but he doesn’t show it. He doubts this woman is with the Rebels. The Rebels wouldn’t have sent someone to do something so risky alone. Which made the question of who she really was all the more interesting. He moves to the side of the gurney Celena is strapped to and presses a button, the straps retract and the suddenness of it sends Celena falling to the floor. She hits the floor hard and groans softly.

“Bring her to my office,” Thrawn finally looks away from her, focusing on the Stormtrooper standing by the door. “I will question her there.”

Thrawn leaves the room, leaving Celena on the floor. Every part of her body aches, now that she’s on the ground it even hurts to breathe. This hadn’t gone how she hoped it would. And inwardly she feels sick. She had been so sure her plan would work she hadn’t really thought of the alternative. Or maybe at this point, she didn’t care. Getting caught by the Imperials was no worse than what she had to go back to. The Stormtrooper yanks her roughly off the floor. “Get moving Rebel Scum!”

***

Thrawn watches Celena as she uses a damp cloth to wipe the blood off her face. When she got to his temporary office he had a cloth with a bowl of warm water waiting for her as well as food. There was something different about this woman, something he found intriguing. And since torture hadn’t made her talk, he would try something else - something less crass than the interrogation droid.

“Do you always stare,” Celena asks, lowering the cloth so she can fully look at Thrawn. “You aren’t a Rebel,” Thrawn says simply. “That much is obvious.” “To you,” Celena replies, her eyes going down to the food. “It’s not tampered with,” Thrawn tilts his head. “That would defeat the purpose of bringing you here.”

“Why am I here then?” Celena lowers the cloth. There is still blood on her face. It’s dried and it’s itchy on her skin but that feels like the least of her concerns right now. What she needed was a way out here.

Thrawn doesn’t say anything right away. “I must say I’m impressed you withstood Pryce’s torture. Most would break under such duress.”

Now Celena is the one who is quiet she looks at the plate of food - basic bread, likely from those portion packets she had gotten so accustomed to eating.

“I take it you have met my kind before,” Thrawn says.

“Once,” Celena replies. She doesn’t want to elaborate on that. Instead, her attention goes to the few art pieces in the room.

Even if this was just a temporary office for Thrawn before he went back to his ship he liked to be surrounded by art. He had made sure to bring a few pieces with him, after all if he was going to be here for any length of time he needed something. He had brought one of Sabine Wren’s paintings with him, it made sense considering the Ghost crew’s ties to Lothal. And it would give him more time to study it, to understand it – to understand the Rebels.

Celena begins to wipe at the blood and grime on her face again, moving the damp cloth down to her neck. Thrawn watches her, he studies her. With some of the blood removed there really is no denying she is beautiful, it wasn’t attraction just a simple fact. He squints slightly as she wipes away the dried blood from her neck, there is a mark there…

“I know you are not a Rebel, Celena,” Thrawn stands up and moves to stand behind her chair. He leans down, putting a hand on Celena’s head to move her so he can get a better look at it. “What are you–” Celena tries to pull away from him. “This mark,” Thrawn stares at it. It isn’t just a mark, it’s a brand. “You belong to the Hutt Cartel.”

Celena pulls away from him, dropping the cloth and standing up. From the way she pulls away it’s clear she doesn’t like being touched. She crosses her arms over her chest as she glares at Thrawn. “And if I do?”

Thrawn straightens and puts his hands behind his back as he looks at her. “The Hutts would not be foolish enough to send you to steal from us and considering how you still have that brand,” he pauses for a moment. “Did you think you could give them the weapons cache in exchange for your freedom?”

Celena moves her arms tighter around herself. “Does it matter?”

“I suppose it does not,” Thrawn takes a step closer to her. “At least not to most of the Imperials here.” “You’re Imperial.”

“Yes, I am.”

For a few moments, they stood there, staring at each other. Something about the way Thrawn looks at her makes Celena’s skin crawl and soon she has to look away. Instead of looking at him she turns her attention to the painting in the corner of the room.

“You like art?” Thrawn asks.

Celena says nothing, she takes a few steps closer to it as she takes it in. The shapes, the colours, they all seem to have meaning and for a brief moment she feels a pang of jealousy. This artist had a story. A purpose. Thrawn watches her, her reaction to the piece makes him more curious about her.

It was hard not to be curious. Besides… she could become useful later. Connections to the Hutt Cartel, connections to the Outer Rim.

“This was painted by a Mandalorian,” Thrawn moves so he’s standing next to her.

“This is a story,” Celena says, still looking at the painting. “I doubt you’re supposed to have this.”

“I like to collect art from my adversaries,” Thrawn says. “It allows me to understand them better. Their motivations.” “I doubt the artist likes you have this then.”

Thrawn almost chuckles. “No, I doubt she does either.”

Celena turns to look at him then, her brow furrowed. “So what are you going to do with me then?”

“I am going to give you a room, with a proper bed,” Thrawn replies. “You will stay here until I decide what to do with you.” Celena’s mouth opens to say something. “Do not mistake this for kindness Celena. I am merely deciding how useful you could be to me. Until then you will be locked in a room. I suggest you don’t try to escape.”

Celena stares at him, there is something almost menacing about the way Thrawn says that. She knows if she tries to escape he won’t stop whatever will happen to her. It also seems clear that he knows she has nothing to escape too. Go back to the Hutts or stay here and just wait and hope that she may have a better outcome.

She didn’t have a choice. So she forces a smile.

“With Imperial hospitality, how could I refuse?”

Thrawn smirks.

#thrawn x oc #thrawn x ofc #thrawn fic #star wars fanfic #star wars oc #!mine #thrawn x celena #star wars expanded universe fic #thrawn eu

11 notes · View notes

torotornottorot · 1 year ago

Text

Books read in 2023:

The secret life of bees (Jan 6) 4/5 (probably would have enjoyed it more when I was younger. Great overall but still the mammy stereotype. Don’t like it when poc women are portrayed as ~divine creatures~ we are just normal people and we just wanted to treated like normal people. Nothing more, nothing less. Too flowery and cliche at parts but still good overall.)

I’m glad my mom died (Jan 15) 5/5 (funny and thrilling. Reading this would probably help a lot of people with toxic parents think through their own trauma)

Evil Under the Sun (Jan 17) 4/5 (simple and entertaining. Not a masterwork of literature but satisfying nonetheless. A bit slow to get started but great overall)

The hunting party (Feb 4) 4/5 (found hard to get into it/get invested because of unlikeable cast of characters but stil high rating for unexpected ending. I was bored a few times in the beginning and middle parts but it really picked up in the end and made up for it. Would make a great movie)

Sparkling cyanide (audiobook) (Feb 20) 3/5 (good to listen to while doing other work around the house. Probably not worth it to take separate time out to read)

Last bus to Woodstock (Feb 24) 3/5 (hated the main detective and how he went about the investigation eg. relying on instinct and chance discoveries. But the side characters were super interesting and the ending was unexpected. Would have liked it better if inspector Lewis was the main character. No decent female characters. Only wh*res or the "shrill wife." But the crime itself was interesting and I liked the writing style).

And then there were none (audiobook) (Feb 26) 5/5 (Omg. I was in thrall throughout. My favorite Agatha Christie book I’ve read so far. I actually thought there had to be a supernatural explanation lol)

The dark remains (feb 26) 3/5 (not bad. Just boring. Can tell it was written by a dude. Not one interesting character despite being set in the gang world. Very cliche type of noir)

The Falls (Ian Rankin) (March 1) 4/5 (great buildup but disappointing payoff. Loved the concept of the quizmaster. Very likable the main detectives and very interesting plot. Sustains you throughout despite being so long. But yeah. Didn’t quite like the solution to the murder)

Wire in the blood (March 22) 5/5 (excellent. Gory but excellent. What a plot!)

The distant echo (March 30) 5/5 (omg. If someone asks me what’s your favorite crime fiction book I’d say this one! Very suspenseful and unpredictable loved it loved it loved it!!!!)

The Guest List (April 13) 6/5 (this surpasses the distant echo. This actually made me feel things. The amount of gasps I gusped could have powered the state of Texas for a year. Absolutely loved it. )

East of Eden (May 15) 100/5 (what kind of genius do you have to be to write such a book?

In Cold Blood 4/5 (May 30) maybe bc I already knew the story, I kinda had to force myself to finish this

Macbeth 5/5 (June 14) iconic

Northanger Abby by Val Mcdermid 4/5 (June 17) fun modern retelling. Expected a crime and twist but it was faithful to the original. Enjoyed reading.

Gone girl 6/5 (June 24) omg her mind. Will definitely read more by her. Wish I hadn’t seen the movie before so I could have been fully surprised. Liked the ending.

The Pearl (5/5) (July 3) not a page turner but a good depiction of reality. Very sad.

Age of Vice 3/5 (July 7) great beginning but I didn’t like the ending. I think the author tried to put too many stories and perspectives in one. That whole bit of Sunil was unnecessary? It just slowed the story down at such a crusial moment. And Sunny’s backstory with Vicky too. I don’t think it was necessary to have an unbelievably tragic backstory for every character and he already had his deal with his dad. Some things are never clarified like what happened to his mom, his true relationship with Vicky. Why Ajay agreed. Ajay turns out of be such a loser in the end. Maybe it’s “realistic” but lots of things that happen in this book are not realistic so I don’t know why only the ending has to be realistic. I wish I could have followed Ajay’s journey to a good ending.

Milk fed 2/5 (August 12) only read bc of booktok. Good seeds here and there. didn't realy like it.

The club (5/5) (august 19) excellent, gripping. A bit longer than it needed to be though.

The grownup Gillian Flynn (4/5) (October 19) great short story. Great writing. So engaging. Perfect length for getting back into reading

Emma by charlotte Brontë and another lady (5/5) (Nov 2) love. Mr. Ellin needs to be played by Simon Baker in a movie.

A room of one’s own by Virginia Woolf (Nov 11) (1000/5). This has been on my to read list for ages. I see quotes from this everywhere and every time I’m astounded by how she just she gets it and knows exactly what to say to express it perfectly. The essay was everything I imagined it would be. Forever grateful to that Destiel fanfic for introducing me to this.

Villette (4/5) (Dec 29) lovely

Girl, interrupted (5/5) (Dec 31) made me ponder about a lot of things. Her youth was really kind of stolen from her. Made to freeze just like that painting. what is the right thing to do? What is helping and what is hurting? What does “crazy” even mean? I think I tend to be very judgemental about this kind of stuff. But this book made me realize that people are people even if you do not understand why they act a certain way. They feel the same as me.

#books #english literature

2 notes · View notes

winchesterszvonecek · 1 year ago

Note

I LOVE YOUR BLOG 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 It’s absolutely filled with amazing Otis content (about time), I also have a question regarding “To Hell & Back” You mentioned writing a Gabriel prequel and I was wondering whether Henri would end up with Otis considering you prefer Gabriel more cause now I’m reading an Otis fic with the idea that you want Henri to end up with someone else instead lol. Apologies I’m just weird like that when it comes to reading fan fics it’s something obviously I need to fix, I can’t even properly explain like me as the reader I take on the role of the Oc character almost and physically I’m reading Otis but mentally I’m thinking the writer prefers someone else so I don’t feel Otis & Henri’s chemistry anymore cause I believe it’s forced now so maybe Otis and Henri don’t end up together instead they stay friends? That way you still fulfil your obligation of a Brian fanfic story but it’s platonic?

i’m really glad you like it here anon🖤

as for your question… i can see where you’re coming from with thinking i prefer Gabriel and i will be honest, i have fallen a little bit in love with him… which i never would have expected to happen, it’s the main reason why i picked him as Henri’s ex as i thought it would be easy for me to have her end up with Otis instead, but turns out it’s not!

don’t get me wrong though, i still love Henri and Otis and i have every intention of them getting together as the book is an Otis one after all and I wouldn’t do that to those who chose to read the book specifically for Otis. and i want you to know that their chemistry is very much not forced, i do love them a lot and it’s always super fun for me to write all their fluffy moments and whatnot so i hope you’re able to see their chemistry again whenever the book carries on

but i won’t deny… i’m really loving Henri and Gabriel, which is why I want to do the prequel as that way i get to fulfil my own wishes of seeing both couples - and i will say that if i actually get around to doing the book as with where my head is at right now it’s unlikely - it will have two endings…

a happy one, that sees Henri and Gabriel happy as i wouldn’t be able to write the book knowing they don’t stay together. - and so that it can act as a stand alone Gabriel book as there aren’t many out there

and one that leads in to ‘to hell and back’ that way people can read them as a series if they wish

the short of it is… ‘to hell and back’ is very much a story about Henri finding normality after a life of hunting and she can’t do that if she stays with Gabriel - and i know that makes it seem like she’s settling for Otis but i promise you that she isn’t, she does very much love him and you will see that as the story progresses - and she also can’t bring herself to forgive Gabriel for what he did and even if she did, their time together is done and she’s moved on

but i really hope you can still enjoy the book as i wouldn’t want you reading it thinking i’m forcing Henri and Otis to be together bc really, i’m not… they’re actually one of my favourite couples i’ve written and i’m very eager to get to the more exciting parts of the story

#my fic stuff #winchesterszvonecek answers

4 notes · View notes

eddies-artofsuffering · 2 years ago

Note

steddie ask 1, 14, 16 please ☺️☺️☺️

Omg yes!!! Thank u for the ask heheh I’m extremely pleased to tell you❤️🥹

1. Why do I like this ship?

I guess the short answer is that I always get into a ship when I can see myself in the characters involved & I can see them loving each other that I want to be loved, and by far steddie are the closest to all of those things in any types of media I’ve seen (maybe the next closest is bbc Sherlock’s johnlock lmao) But the long answer is —I mean, I am a bi disaster myself, a lanky ass dude with dark curly hair and dark eyes who grew up closeted in a small town, and I spent a big portion of my teen years living with someone else other than my immediate family who was absent. I was known as a jock in high school, musician to those who knew me better, and secretly a big fuckin nerd who enjoy metal music in my own time. I knew monsters from whom I got PTSD, and I have both emotional/physical scars that will last me a lifetime. I really think steve and Eddie compliment each other because the way they need love & want to love are similar—and it happens to be the way I want it as well. So it’s really important for me to have these two idiots who share my past and present fall in love, you know?

14. Steve joining corroded coffin or just a fan?

Honestly????????? Kind of neither. Now don’t hate me just yet…. I just think that Steve would definitely supportive, but not necessarily in love (!) with the music itself. I believe he’ll be a fan of Eddie (eventually) and will help out here and there when they need it, maybe during the early days if they later become famous etc. but I feel like he wouldn’t really know or understand the ethos of CC. Like he’ll go along with it and will make it to the gigs and performances concerts etc but he’ll also have ear plugs with him bc it hurts his ears and he’s already suffering from head trauma ☠️Idk that’s my HC so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

16. Overdone HC

Again: I’ll premise it by saying that I absolutely love these overdone HCs: Eddie realizing that he’s gay before Steve realizing his own sexuality. The most common fanon I’d say is 1) Eddie knowing he’s gay whether he has experience or not 2) Steve’s bisexual awakening is Eddie and he consults Robin about it 3) Eddie being a flirty motherfucker whilst Steve (who’s normally smooth) being very flustered ™. Now I fuckin love this shit SO much and will read the hell out of it every time. But I do want more of oblivious Eddie whose sexuality crisis is super delayed bc of whatever reason, and Steve understanding / being well versed with the language of attraction from a young age regardless of gender, therefore having these epiphanies before even meeting Robin. Growing up I didn’t have a Robin 😭and I needed to figure shit out on my own. It was pretty apparent to me that I wasn’t straight since I was 12 or 13, and I want to see Steve in a similar situation who help Eddie navigate that!!! Which is why I’m writing a new fic exactly about this lmao. (Shameless promo)

#steddie #steddie ask #anon #I love u

7 notes · View notes

ramennoodlezzzao3 · 8 months ago

Text

nobody asked me to answer but I’m answering anyways 🤪

My Family, Covid, and Music

It’s horrible 💀

The Outsiders, IT, Titanic

If me and my parents get into a minor disagreement, my dad will point to the sky and say “Whose roof?” It may not be funny to yall without context, but it’s fricking hilarious in my family.

tbh, I didn’t know that tumblr was like this, I just read about it on an outsiders modern au fic and wanted to see what it was about

the best part is getting to make people happy and laughing with people all around the world in my comment section abt random stuff. The worst part isn’t the trolls, I can handle a good hate comment and can make an even better comeback, but I think its people stealing your content (I’m a TikTok and YouTube editor with a semi-large following, so people stealing my comets isn’t rare, it’s just hard to find the video bc they normally block you afterward)

Fire alarms and ovens. Idk why but I have always been afraid of both

No, not that I remember at least

We were at the beach and my husky ran out into the woods because he saw a dear. Both my parents and my sisters were looking for him, but my sisters didn’t have shoes on, so they came back with thorns and sticks in their feet (we found the dog btw)

Kinda? I have an emotional breakdown every other month and cry a few times in between but a movie or song can’t get tears falling. Unless a dog dies, if I dog dies, babes, I’m on the ground sobbing.

In a movie or book, just any romantic interaction that lasts a certain amount of time. Ten-fifteen minuets for a movie and maybe ten-fifteen pages in a book, depending how long each one is.

if people try to put you down, whether it’s a hate comment for an actual comment, bite back. Don’t be afraid. Biting back makes them back down. And if you are too scared to bite back, make fun of yourself with them! It shows confidence and also shows that you can take insults without being affected. It shows a lot about you.

Listening to music and writing my book! (It’s based off one of my dreams)

I have always wanted to move to Tokyo. I’m still a teenager, but when I get to collage, I want to apply for the animation school in Tokyo. I’m just scared that would be a very bold move.

It’s not really a feeling, but I smell cinnamon and bread baking, ik it’s weird but still.

how annoying I am.

music, books, writing

ghosts maybe, aliens no

I like laying in my bed while listening to music with sunlight pouring in. I like it better when it storms tho, it gives my room a really pretty and cold vibe, perfect for the neighborhood music!

I get to sleep lol

Idk, I don’t think I’m like the biggest spiritual person out there. I wouldn’t bring up anything spiritual in a conversation bc I don’t particularly find it interesting. But if someone else starts a conversation I would talk about it

my mom. She’s funny, very dirty minded, and has a strait-to-the-point-no-nonsense type attitude

Andrew Tate. Self explanatory.

Building a community on YouTube and TikTok where everyone feels comfortable enough to share their thoughts and feelings

winter! Mostly because it’s Christmas time in the winter and I LOVE the Christmas vibe

Blue, Green, Black and White. I’ve always liked blue and green, but I took a liking to black and white because me and my sister used to share a room and everything she owned was either pink, black, or white

My older brother calls me Honey, my oldest sister calls me Sugarboo, my second oldest sister calls me chicken (weird without context 💀), and my other two older sisters just call me by my name

Snowglobes! I started when me and my family moved across the country. We went to 11 states and so I have 11 snowglobes rn. My oldest sister bring me back one every single time she goes to visit her boyfriend.

listen to music or watch funny YouTubers like Joe Bart and the sturniolo triplets

When people comment on my videos. I love it when people enjoy my content!

a bit of both

12 💀

Drawing, Writing, editing, painting

I HATE STEREOTYPING PEOPEL! GOD ITS SO ANNOYING WHEN PEOPLE DO THAT IT MAKES ME WANT TO SCREAM

Very easily, I probably need to stop doing that. But I can always tell when something’s off about a person

People think I’m an open book but literally nobody knows anything about me, not even my family

I downloaded discord without asking my parents once, deleted it after a while though (The life of a kid with strict ass parents 😍)

End of beginning or Sex, Drugs, Etc

Joe Bartalozzi and Nick Sturniolo. They just remind me of myself

I chew the skin in front of my nails. I dig my nails into my arm when I feel like I’m being annoying.

that’s it 😍

questions I think would be fun to be asked

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

show us a picture of your handwriting?

3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

what made you start your blog?

what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

what scares you the most and why?

any reacquiring dreams?

tell a story about your childhood

would you say you’re an emotional person?

what do you consider to be romance?

what’s some good advice you want to share?

what are you doing right now?

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

name 3 things that make you happy

do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

favourite thing about the day?

favourite things about the night?

are you a spiritual person?

say 3 things about someone you love

say 3 things about someone you hate

what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

fave season and why?

fave colour and why?

any nicknames?

do you collect anything?

what do you do when you’re sad?

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

are you messy or organised?

how many tabs do you have open right now?

any hobbies?

any pet peeves?

do you trust easily?

are you an open book or do you have walls up?

share a secret

fave song at the moment?

youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

any bad habits?

(this post was stolen from @teenage-mutant-ninja-freak, since it couldn't be reblogged anymore)

32K notes · View notes

chronic-invisibility · 1 year ago

Text

I stopped coming on here for like almost a month i think bc i added some tags onto a post i reblogged and the op called me out and said i completely misunderstood everything (except they misunderstood what i was trying to say so fuck me ig) and i got upset and dipped. In the meantime, lots of stuff has happened, but also not much.

I went back to university, the semester started last Thursday and it’s going well so far, I’m majoring in Museum Studies bc I am a big nerd, and it’s a 100% online program so I’m still working and I don’t have to like, move to Arizona, which is good.

Work is meh, we’re starting vaccine clinics again soon so I’ll be doing that again with this season’s flu and covid shots, and maybe other vaccines as well I’m not sure what the regulations are now. We still only have one pharmacist on staff so we’re stuck with a rotating cast of floaters, some of whom are more helpful than others. And the customers are still horrible, that hasn’t changed. I got yelled at for 10 minutes today by someone who’s doctor called in over a dozen prescriptions and then faxed us and cancelled all of them so we put them all back, which was a mistake apparently and then after we finally got it sorted and got them called in again, we were supposed to close in 10 minutes so it was physically impossible to fill 15 prescriptions for one person, and she wanted us to stay open late just for her, which legally we can’t do and also no, we want to go home and she was being so rude we didn’t really want to help her at all. So yeah, work is work

In good news, I’ve been talking to someone i matched with on a dating app (my intro that they messaged me about was mcr related, so you know they’re a keeper) and we’ve been on 2 dates and text a lot and we’re planning on hanging out again this Tuesday. They’re a special ed teacher and they have adhd so they get how my brain works and they work with kids whose brains work similarly to both of ours, and they’re really funny and cool and smart and nice and pretty, I really hope this keeps going well bc I really like them.

I watched the newest season of Heartstopper twice in a row after it came out, reread all the comics that are out (Alice Oseman is still publishing them, too, so that’s nice) and then rewatched both seasons in a row. It’s so cute and so good and i can feel the hyperfixation building. I’ve watched it enough that I keep slipping into a british accent when I talk, which is entirely unintentional but not the worst thing. I can also do it on purpose, but i tend to pick up accents from people I hear talk a lot, which is maybe the only fun side effect of masking my whole life

I’ve seen a few really good plays and musicals recently, I know I saw The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window before i stopped posting on here, but that was really good, and then I saw Kimberly Akimbo the other day, it was INCREDIBLE. The music and the writing are amazing, obviously, and the actors were all so good, again obviously. They won 5 Tony’s last season, including for Best Musical and Best Featured Actress in a musical and Best Lead Actress in a musical, which were so well-deserved, I seriously cannot hype this show up enough. There’s so many good shows on Broadway right now and I wish I could see them all, there were a bunch I wanted to see but closed before I got the chance, too, including Prima Facie starring Jody Comer, but I bought the script for that one.

In less fun news, I think i might need to put a read more here bc there be triggers coming

Between my chronic GI issues (trying to see a specialist about it again but there’s a whole mess of problems with that i just don’t feel like typing) and watching season 2 of Heartstopper and also rereading it and seeing Charlie struggling with his eating disorder, I’ve lapsed pretty hard with my own. I can’t really call it a relapse bc I was never really actually trying to recover, but I was trying for a while to eat a little more normally, but that’s basically out the window now. Thanks brain, so helpful of you to see a person struggling with a similar mental illness to mine and say “well they’re sicker than you so you suck and also you need to work harder at being sick like them” like FUCK OFF that’s not helpful and also Charlie is literally a fictional character and most of the storyline is about how he’s trying to get help for his ed and how awful they are, and his ed and mine aren’t the same, nor are our reasons for being disordered. So that’s not been fun.

I also realized (after watching a video by a therapist reacting to the scene when Ben assaults Charlie in Heartstopper and then going and obsessively researching legal definitions) that what happened to me in the summer of 2019 would probably be classified as a rape, not just a sexual assault. Which it also was, but what happened falls under the legal definition of rape, not just assault. So I’ve been spiraling about that, even though I still remember almost none of it and once again my garbage brain has decided that I’m somehow not allowed to be that upset or say I’m traumatized bc I don’t experience two of the most common symptoms of ptsd (flashbacks and nightmares) so clearly, this is all me being dramatic, even though basically everything else fits. And those aren’t required to be diagnosed with ptsd. Not that I WANT ptsd, but for whatever reason I feel like i’m not allowed to even say i’m a little bit traumatized by what happened bc of that. Again, stupid brain. I also realized after talking to the person I’ve been talking to (idk if we’re officially dating, maybe i should ask) about boundaries and what we’re both comfortable with, that the last person who I’ve had any “romantic” physical contact with was the person who raped me, and also the only sexual contact I’ve ever had (unless i’ve blocked out more than just the one assault I know happened) was with that same person, so now i’m extremely anxious about doing anything with the person i’m sort of maybe dating, even though neither of us are interested in just jumping right to physical intimacy, they’ve also experienced similar situations so they’re anxious about it too, and also they’re a nice person who i’d trust to not push it if i wasn’t comfortable with something, but idk how to say “i’m anxious about kissing you even though i like you and i want to kiss you bc the last person i kissed was the person who raped me over 4 years ago”

I’m working on finding a new therapist now that i’m done with my IOP and i know that’s going to be one of the (far too many) things i need to deal with in therapy, as well as all the other trauma from that summer, and from my previous university experience, and my whole fucking childhood, and also my other issues that aren’t necessarily trauma related, although most of them probably are to a certain extent bc being an undiagnosed audhd person who also doesn’t realize they’re trans until they’re an adult is inherently traumatic.

I don’t know if there’s any other big stuff I want to/feel like I need to say that’s been going on, not that anybody will probably read all or any of this. But yeah, a lot is going on, but also not much is actively going on. This was a lot longer than I thought it would be. Oops.

0 notes

resmarted · 2 years ago

Text

honestly i feel considerably calmer than ever before and have worked through a significant amount of my anger from a very traumatic hand i’ve been dealt. the frequent backhanded rude comments don’t go over my head i just don’t feel the need to correct everyone and spar in public where i do that thing and verbally decimate anyone who dare cross me so it becomes fodder for subtweets the next day or whatever. like i literally don’t care and it’s very liberating. i used to have a lot of hang ups on how i do things my own way and not by the book (which is obviously an outdated manual btw) and like, i haven’t read chocolate war in years but something about traditional comedy scene stuff really reminds me a lot of this cult mentality where if you don’t sell yourself we are all going to gang up on you for daring to refuse to join our aggro traditions, or like WHATEVER that vibe is i have always been very much the person who works quietly on something for months at a time and comes out of my hole to present it and goes back to edit and write new things. this idea that you need to be running the same jokes you wrote x amount of years ago into the ground in order to be considered a Real Comic is so bizarre and far past the expiration date in concept alone. i also just get sensory overload like cannot handle constant stimulation i get very exhausted in rooms full of people it takes a lot out of me and i don’t need to explain myself to someone who thinks they’re being slick by trying to sneak diss me me as loudly as possible in some side convo that i have no desire to pay attention to in the first place. like i’m glad you’re better than me on every level good for you homie idk what you want me to say to that. i can die having done a total of two performances and as long as they were solid and something i’m proud of it’s better to me than a million where i’m just going through the motions like a zombie robot BUT i am sure that’s not everyone’s experience it just feels like it is for me when i try to do literally anything at all the Normal Way. idk what to tell you man i don’t need to assert my dominance over things that are not that serious to me and thank god for that bc a few years ago anyone in the scene would have warned you i would have easily been like yo what the fuck did you just say? which is maybe what people want or have come to expect on some level and it’s like, i’m very anticlimactic in my emotional responses and lashings out i know it’s disappointing sorry!do you want to eat italian and hate on sammi or

#need to replace my no war but class war shirt #the majority of the graphic is all rubbed off

1 note · View note

blanc-ci · 18 days ago

Text

Managed to read half of it on my first flight! Took notes, of course

(I am currently operating under the assumption that I know who the duplicate is (bc spoilers that I’ve seen) barring any last minute twists, and “knowing” does make this read very fun to me- the Spocks are such divas )

First off, this book opens with the CRAZIEST McCoy monologue. (It fills the entire first chapter) The most existential raving I’ve ever read, and I understand the narrative purpose of it- setting up the theme for the story- however I do really enjoy the exploration of McCoy being this incredibly philosophical over-thinker. Like yeah he’s paranoid but he’s got the WORDS to explain and rationalize his paranoias. And tbh he’s pretty damn convincing!

Also very funny to see Kirk trying to keep up with him, but it just ultimately comes across as him nodding and going “right.. right.” (+ the whole mini crisis he had about being insecure in his understanding of McCoy’s “character”)

“Will you relieve me, please, Captain?” HUH?

Spock why are you begging

Kirk giggling and kicking his feet and fantasizing about having two Spocks indefinitely aboard the Enterprise: “I might even come to like it”

Spock: you need to END that mf

Ring exchange scene ftw

“Spock. Give me your ring too. No reason…”

And following it up with an Amok Time reference? Blish? which definitely makes this already intimate weird exchange between k/s more Normal. That definitely helps lessen the homoerotic subtext going on here. Definitely.

Reading this going “haha Kirk is totally in the “I can fix him” category when it comes to Spock….…. WHAT???”

So glad McCoy immediately shot him down. That was so— man who thinks he’s Deep and Enlightened making an outlandish and pessimistic social theory. More for the edge-factor than actually attempting to understand the reasoning behind it.

McCoy however did NOT have to go on a whole tangent describing Spock’s attractive qualities to say that it’s understandable that women find him attractive

“Much as I hate to admit it… yea I’d hit that too🙂‍↕️”

Kirk: ….so it’s Freudian?

McCoy: oh my god would you shut the fuck up

+ very funny for Kirk after this to be like “oh yea… I wanted to discuss figuring out who the duplicate is, haha how did we get on the topic of dating Spock? Thats crazyyyyy”

“It’s suspicious to me that Spock Two would immediately insist on the destruction of his counterpart. It seems extreme as opposed to Spock Ones neutrality.” Girl if there’s one thing you must know about Spock, it’s that he knows himself intricately and absolutely DESPISES himself. He can barely handle one of him existing. He needs that man DEAD

I enjoy how McCoy is very aware/conscientious of Spock’s emotional suppression, towards Jim anyway. No insult-laying or being like “fucking emotionless Vulcans, I have no idea”, just a surprisingly deep understanding of how Spock processes his feelings/a very empathetic assessment of how this situation will affect him.

Overall, McCoy’s characterization in this book is ODD, (maybe Blish is using him as a kind of insert to talk abt his own philosophies/psychology analysis- I’m not familiar enough with his writing to tell) but I don’t wholly dislike it.

I do HATE that Jim calls him “doc” instead of “bones” though.

The fact that Spock Two and McCoy spent two seconds near one another and immediately started bickering is very convincing proof that he’s the OG. To me.

More after my next flight if I don’t pass tf out (the exhaustion… it’s Getting me)

Gonna start reading Spock Must Die on my sucky 5am flight, will update as I have wifi >:)

#seriously though why ‘doc’?#this book is so painfully British #Blish moved to England and now I can smell it on every written word #spock must die #Star Trek

99 notes · View notes

yourmidnightlover · 3 years ago

Text

all my fault

Request: spencer and y/n are married, and they’ve been trying to have kids, and then she finds out she’s pregnant. a few weeks into the pregnancy, she has a miscarriage, and at the hospital the doctor said it’s bc she had an abortion as a teenager, and it fucked up her it yet us. spencer didn’t know she had an abortion, and blames her for the death of the baby, and they end up sleeping separately for a while and they have to grieve by themselves. spencer ends up talking to emily about it bc of her experience and it has a comforting ending!

Summary: when reader has a miscarriage after trying to have a baby with spencer, and things about her past are revealed and leaves things rocky within their relationship.

CW: miscarriage, pregnancy, mention of abortion, spencer’s rly harsh at first, teenage pregnancy, mentions of surgery, a cervix condition that i kinda made up, depressive thoughts, negative self-worth, HAPPY ENDING. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

A/N: i’ve been working on coming up with a series, which i posted last thursday! i’m sorry i haven’t been as consistent with my schedule, this summer has really taken a toll on my mental health and school is about to start back up. i promise i’m not quitting writing, but my writing might become a bit more sporadic in terms of my posting schedule. i’m still not sure if i like how i’ve executed this piece, so please let me know what you think!

IMPORTANT A/N: this contains serious topics centered around pregnancy and abortion. reader end up blaming herself and it is a very triggering subject to some. if you aren’t comfortable with those kinds of depressive thoughts PLEASE DONT READ. i don’t want anyone to be triggered by my writing. your mental health matters. you matter. do not read if your sensitive to the subject matter, please!

———————————————————————

when you and spencer checked the third pregnancy test and saw those two, very clear lines on the stick, you felt an unbelievable amount of joy.

“oh my god,” you clamped your hand over your mouth, your eyes welling with tears.

“y/n…” he held his breath, holding your free hand with both of his own.

“you’re gonna be a dad,” you huffed out a laugh as his arms flew around you.

“and you’re gonna be a mom! we’re gonna have our own little family,” he cheered as he breathed in your scent, elated from the news he had hoped for since you said ‘i do.’

spencer had wanted to be a father since he met henry, you remember how attached he was to the child who wasn’t even his own. you hadn’t always wanted children, only when you were absolutely ready for them. now, you were more than ready.

your arms flew around spencer’s neck as his went around your waist. he dropped to his knees and began pressing kisses against a bump that wasn’t even visible yet, praising you and your body for carrying his child.

because it was so hard for you to get pregnant, spencer decided to baby you every chance he got. you didn’t do the dishes or sweep, you weren’t allowed to reach for high shelves or even step on a chair to do so. he was worried about you and the baby, so you let him. you found it endearing.

the perfect man that you married was so worried about the little bean inside of you, worried for your safety, that it drove him a bit mad. who were you to complain? each time he’d do one of the new little quirks like not letting you lift anything above 10 pounds, you just smiled to yourself and brushed it off.

being pregnant was something that you had lost hope for, in all honesty. spencer had been talking to a few friends who had adopted children prior to finding out you were pregnant. if this hadn’t worked out, the two of you were going to look into adoption.

spencer had planned your doctors appointment for 6 weeks after your last period. the appointment was in three days. and then the perfect outline you had for your future went down in crumbles.

you had been having pains in your lower abdomen, and you figured it was just because you were pregnant. you went to the bathroom like you normally would when you felt queasy, kneeling by the toilet in preparation for what was to come. only nothing came.

you decided to just go pee and get back to bed. there was a pain that wasn’t like you’d felt before when you were peeing, like someone had been pulling your intestines out of your body. when you looked down, you felt your stomach drop.

“spencer!” you cried out. “spencer, hurry!” you felt tears well in your eyes until he ran up beside you. his hand was on your thigh as the other one was trying to steady your shaking hand.

“what is… oh,” he looked in the toilet to see blood inside of it.

“spencer… what happened? i don’t know what happened. everything was doing so well and the baby-we just found out and now they’re-wh-what’s gonna happen?” you rambled out, unsure of how something this horrific happened so quickly.

“i-i don’t know, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t know. but we’ll go to the hospital right now, okay? we’ll get answers.”

you just nodded. you couldn’t speak anymore. you felt your throat closing in on yourself. you cleaned yourself up and got dressed. even looking in the mirror with spencer’s arms around you, you didn’t feel anything but guilt and worry.

spencer’s touch would usually be something to ease your mind and take away the thoughts of everything else around you. only this was something wrong inside of you. you were the problem this time. and you didn’t think anything could fix this feeling.

“let’s get to the hospital, yea?” you nodded as he held onto your hand, trying to ground you to himself as he guided you to the car.

you were silent the entire drive to the doctor. there was nothing to say. there was nothing to do. there was just… nothing. you were numb.

“hey,” he spoke up, “we don’t know what happened yet. there’s a chance it’s just a fluke, right? the baby might be okay.”

“what’re the statistics, spencer? tell them to me,” you ordered as tears flowed from your eyes.

“y/n…”

“tell me! why don’t you want me to know?!” you accused him, looking over at the man driving as he but his lower lip. “1 in 4 women who experience bleeding during a pregnancy are fine. 25 percent. the other 75 percent of people have either a miscarriage or serious complications. those are the statistics.”

“y/n…” he sighed, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t want this to happen. besides, there’s still a 25 percent chance that nothings wrong.”

“whatever,” you rolled your eyes and opted to look out of the window for the remainder of the drive to the hospital.

“alright,” the doctor entered the room. “we have the results from the test and we’ve examined the ultrasound pictures. i’m so sorry, but you’ve had a miscarriage.”

what were you supposed to feel? an overwhelming sense of sorrow? like a failure? like the one thing you wanted most in the world fell through?

“how-how did this happen?” you spoke through the tears. “we were so-we were careful. i didn’t lift heavy objects, i didn’t do repetitive motions, i just… we tried so hard to make this work,” you shook your head in disapproval, as if you wouldn’t accept the answer that had already been proven to you.

“there’s proof of an abortion when you were a teenager. there was severe damage done to your cervix that wasn’t assessed pre-pregnancy. now, we can repair the damage within the next two months, but it will still be difficult to become pregnant after the surgery,” the female informed you.

“then what’s the point of getting the surgery?” you scoffed, looking at spencer who was just staring off in space.

“while getting pregnant will still be difficult, maintaining the pregnancy is much more likely. the fetus would be more protected and secure after the surgery,” she explained with a pitiful smile, you couldn’t help but wonder how she could smile after giving you the worst news of your life.

“right,” you nodded curtly, allowing her to sense the mood of the conversation.

“i’ll leave you two be. i’m so sorry for your loss,” she gave the both of you a pitiful smile before exiting the room, the only sound audible being the closing of the door.

it didn’t feel real. it felt as though you were in a nightmare. only this time, you wouldn’t wake in spencer’s comforting arms. you wouldn’t hear the soft soothing voice of the man you love trying to calm you down. you wouldn’t feel the solace he would provide by merely being himself in your proximity.

the drive home was eerily quiet. there was an inkling of animosity between you. looking over at spencer in the driver’s seat, he had a dead look on his face, the only sign of previous emotion being his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he didn’t even look like your spencer. he looked like a stranger in the drivers seat with a cold expression that you could barely read.

you knew this was something you should talk about. when the nurse came back in the room it was only to offer a few referrals go therapists that specialized in this kind of grief. clearly, any couple should talk about losing an unborn baby. but you knew that’s not what spencer was truly upset about.

you waited until you shut the door to your apartment before saying anything.

“maybe we should talk about it?” you whispered, not knowing how he’d react.

“about what? the fact that you’ve lied to me for our entire relationship?!” he wouldn’t even turn around to face you. “i thought we were in this together, y/n. we aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other - especially not any that just killed our child!”

“hey…” you winced at his words. “why would you say that?”

“that’s the truth! your choices when you were a teenager just killed our child! my child!” he finally turned to face you, and you wished he hadn’t.

“do you think i knew they would botch my abortion, spencer?! do you think that’s what i wanted?!” you stepped closer to him, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“i don’t know what you want anymore, y/n,” he shook his head, clearly exasperated.

“i want you. i want to get the surgery to fix my cervix. i want to grieve our child. i still want kids… with you, spencer,” you tried to ease the mood, calm him down. you reached your hand out to cup his cheek before he dodged your touch, afraid of touching you. “but you don’t want that?” you whispered so quiet, too afraid of the answer to raise your voice.

“i-“ he sighed and bit his lower lip. “i don’t know.”

“right. of course you don’t,” you shook your head before sitting on the couch, dropping your face in your hands.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed as he took off his coat.

“it means that: of course, you’re making this about you! it can’t be about us grieving our loss together like the doctor recommended?!” you peeked between your hands at the man you still didn’t recognize.

“maybe we shouldn’t grieve together since we can’t even have a conversation without getting angry at one another,” he tried to reason.

“the only reason i’m getting mad is because you’re blaming me for my baby’s death,” you spat back at the doctor before you.

“because it’s your fault!” he stood strong in his belief. “when you were a teenager, did you or did you not have an abortion?”

“i did,” you admitted.

“and the nurse said that in said abortion, they screwed your cervix up! if you didn’t have that abortion, our child would still be alive! we would be on our way to become happy parents!” he accused, rubbing salt in the already stinging wound. “it’s your fucking fault!”

“stop saying that,” you shook your head and dropped it back in your hands, trying to hide the tears that began to flow down your face.

“it is, y/n! i can’t believe you’re even trying to say this isn’t!” he chuckled, clearly getting under your skin.

“shut up, spencer!”

“i can’t, y/n!” he sat in the chair across from you before standing back up, too hyper to sit. “no wonder it was so hard for you to get pregnant.”

“spencer,” you begged him to stop, meeting his face with your teary eyes.

“y/n,” he stared you in the eyes, and you saw a glimpse of the man you loved for a second before he retreated to the bedroom.

you sat on the couch in confusion of what had just occurred.

when you were 15, you’re boyfriend was adamant about taking your relationship “to the next step.” you didn’t think you were ready to have sex, but you wanted him to stay with you. so, you gave in. it just so happened to be that you were one of the lucky girls that ends up getting pregnant her first time in spite of birth control and a condom. you couldn’t tell your mom about your pregnancy, she’d have your head on a pole.

so, you earned enough money from your job to get an abortion yourself. you went to a clinic and had your boyfriend’s mom come with you to sign as your guardian. was it smart to get an abortion that cheap? probably not. but you had no other choice. your mom had made it abundantly clear that if she caught you fooling around with him that she’d kick you out.

you were 15. you were young and still had to finish high school. there was no support system for you. you would’ve been on the streets with a little baby - not to mention the amount of debt you’d go into for just giving birth to a child in a hospital. it was the only choice.

and now you were being berated for making the only choice you even had - and by the person you loved most in the world.

you curled into yourself on the couch, laying your head on the arm and crying into the fabric. you released all of the tension and turmoil. you held onto the cushions as if it were the man that you wanted - no, needed to comfort you. because as much as you’d hate to admit it and try to fight those thoughts, part of you thought that spencer was right. it was your fault.

you fell asleep on the couch that night. you didn’t have the strength to get up to grab a blanket so you just sucked it up.

spencer didn’t sleep at all. he was used to having you curled into his chest, or himself on yours. he felt terrible about how he had talked to you, but he was too stubborn to admit anything just yet.

in the middle of the night he went out of the room to grab a glass of water. he saw you curled up in a ball, you head resting on the arm of the couch as you slept. it was the most peaceful you looked in the past 24 hours. but you began shivering as you slept. you were probably too exhausted to get up to do anything.

he went to the hall closet on a detour and grabbed your favorite, soft blanket and laid it on top of your body. after placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he went into the kitchen and made his glass of water before taking one more glance at you. you had snuggled into the blanket, pulling it up to your chin with a gentle smile that always appeared when he kissed your forehead as you slept.

maybe he didn’t screw up too badly, after all.

the next few days were spent avoiding one another. spencer couldn’t face you after knowing you had kept something so dire from him for the entirety of your relationship. you couldn’t face him after he made you feel as though it was your fault you lost your baby.

you would stay on the couch all day, barely eating or drinking anything while spencer would go out - only mentioning the library or the office to do more paperwork. eventually he just started sleeping at morgan’s house - probably because he couldn’t stand being around you.

you didn’t know how to grieve your baby, you were hoping that spencer might help, but that clearly won’t be happening. on top of that, you were worrying about your marriage. he couldn’t even look at you, how was he supposed to talk to you and sleep beside you?

a lot of times, it’s perceived that the only reason women were put on this planet were to have children - of course that’s a false notion, but it didn’t make it sting any less. your body had betrayed you. you had betrayed yourself.

it was only 12 days after spencer left when he came back home, if he could call it that anymore. once he walked into the living room, he saw you curled up in that same position on the couch. you had a blank stare that was directed towards the black tv. the only evidence that you were doing something was the empty water bottles surrounding you - certainly not enough considering he’d been gone for over a week.

when he entered you didn’t even flinch. your gaze stayed on the empty screen and your face remained vacant of any emotion.

in all honesty, morgan was the one to tell spencer he should check on you. spencer hadn’t told him everything about your argument, he knew he was in the wrong. but he was just so angry. regardless, he was here now, and it’s a good thing he was.

you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. spencer had morgan and savannah checking on him, but you had nobody. he only realized this when morgan pointed it out. and as upset as he was, spencer would always love you. your expressionless face only worried him more. your clothes had been changed from when he last saw you, but he doubts you’ve had a shower.

he stayed silent as he began picking up the empty water bottles from around the table and couch. you looked at him quizzically with furrowed brows.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, your chin already quivering as tears threatened to stream down your face.

“i’m trying to help,” he whispered as sensitively as he could, making eye contact with the most pitiful face you’d ever seen.

“i think you’ve helped enough,” you rolled your eyes before resuming your serious stare-down with the television. “you can leave.”

“no, i can’t,” he replied, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch while being sure not to touch you - he didn’t know if you were ready for that.

“you already did,” you brought to his attention, briefly looking at him. “just go.”

“y/n, i-“

“i don’t want to hear it! what’re you gonna say that could make me feel worse, spencer?!” you let the tears fall past your waterline. “i know it’s my fault. i know i screwed up! and i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!” you replied with far too much sincerity, the tears streaming down your face before he scooted closer to you, planning on wrapping his arms around you. “stop! don’t come near me!” you pushed his shoulders away. “it’s my fault,” you lowered your voice significantly before wrapping your arms around yourself.

he had called emily as soon as he got back into the bedroom. he knew she had previously had an abortion when she was a teenager, and he just needed to hear her side of it. part of him didn’t even expect her to pick up the phone.

“reid, what’s wrong?” she immediately answered.

“i-i think i need to talk to you,” he whispered in a hushed tone.

“right now?” she asked in a mildly concerned tone.

“if you can? the sooner the better,” he answered honestly.

“alright. you want to meet somewhere or just come over?”

“can i just come over? it’s really personal and i wasn’t sure who else to go to,” he began tying his shoes and hoping she’d agree.

“of course, come on over,” she replied in a worried voice.

“ok. i’ll be there in twenty.”

he quietly left the apartment, not before sparing you a regretful glance. he lost his child, but you also lost your child as well. he just couldn’t control his anger. and partially, he thought he was right.

how could you not have told him about something so serious? the second you had began having issues getting pregnant, maybe you should’ve been open about previous pregnancies.

“hey,” emily greeted before giving him a hug after seeing his teary eyes. “come inside.”

“thanks,” he sniffled before stepping into her apartment.

she guided him into her living room and sat down on the couch beside him. they sat there for a few silent minutes before he was able to work up enough courage.

“y/n was pregnant,” he whispered, barely audible if she weren’t right beside him.

“was,” she pointed out, already feeling as though she knew the rest of the story.

“she uhm-she miscarried two weeks ago,” he somberly admitted for the first time to someone else. “the doctor said it was because she had an abortion when she was a teenager that somehow ruined her cervix.”

“and that’s why you felt like you needed to talk to me?” she gathered, she was a great profiler for a reason but this was far more obvious.

“i was pretty harsh. i-i told her it was her fault,” he bit his lower lip as he grimaced. “i really rubbed it in, too.”

“spencer… “ she sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “you’re mourning a life, right now. obviously, that would raise tensions and emotions would be heightened. but… have you apologized? for telling her it was her fault?”

“no?” he replied after thinking about it. “i was going to do that today but she’s… she’s not in good shape. i’m not saying she needs to be perfect, but while i was at derek’s i can tell she didn’t take care of herself. she barely drank any water.”

“did you ask her why she had an abortion? why she didn’t tell you? did you ask her anything about how she’s feeling?” emily asked once more.

“no,” he cowered down, feeling even worse about the truthful answer. “i was just… selfish. i didn’t think about how she’s feeling. i just-i feel so bad now, seeing what state she’s in.”

“when i got an abortion it was because i wasn’t ready for a child,” she began to inform him. “i was a child, myself. how was a child supposed to take care of another one? my mother would’ve been disgraced. i basically had nobody there for me. i kept it a secret because having an abortion is so controversial. i knew people would look at me differently for making a responsible decision for my future.”

“god, i feel so bad,” he began to tear up himself. “i love her so much and i told her these horrible things.”

“make it right, spencer,” she gave him a supportive smile and pat his thigh before he stood up.

“i-i have to go,” he wiped the tears from his face before giving emily a hug, grateful she would listen to him at such an ungodly hour.

he quickly drove back home, where he decidedly belonged in the first place. he never should’ve left home. he never should’ve left you. you were his home, and he didn’t know how he could possibly lose sight of that.

“y/n,” he cooed as he entered the apartment once more. it was noticeably a bit more clean. the trash was taken out, the dishes were done, and your hair was wet from a shower - he assumed. “hey,” he smiled when he saw you sitting on the bed, cheeks still red and tear-stained with red, puffy eyes.

“hi,” you sighed as you brushed your hair, spencer sat down beside you.

“how’re you feeling?” you shrugged. “i need to apologize to you,” he admitted, placing a hand on your thigh. “i’m so, so sorry for what i said. telling you that it’s your fault that we lost our child… i-there’s no excuse. i was clearly upset, but so were you. what i said was so out of line, and i’ll never be able to express how sorry i am to you.”

“you’re right,” you shrugged. “it was my fault.”

“no,” he rubbed his thumb on your skin. “it was not your fault. i’m so sorry i made you believe that.”

“when i was 15 my boyfriend at the time pressured me to have sex. we used a condom and i was in birth control but i still-i still ended up pregnant,” you began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i couldn’t tell my mom because she would’ve kicked me out, so i saved up some money and had his mom take me to a cheap clinic. she signed as my mom and i got the procedure done. that was the end of it,” you finished tears streaming down your face. “a few weeks after the procedure i started having pains in like my lower back, but i didn’t think anything of it. so… it is my fault. i shouldn’t have gone to a cheap clinic, but i couldn’t live on the streets with a baby and no way to clothe or feed them.”

“y/n,” he got your attention, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “you were a teenager who had no other choice, love. it’s not your fault, it’s the clinic’s.”

“i just… it hurts so bad, spencer,” you shook your head in defeat before he wrapped his arms around you. “not even just emotionally, my body physically hurts so bad. i don’t know what to do and i thought i lost you and i didn’t know what i would do without you because i didn’t think you loved me anymore because it’s my fault,” you ranted out, sobbing into his shoulder before he moved the two of you around the bed to lay down, you on his chest.

“i’m so sorry you had to go through that, and that you’re still dealing with the repercussions,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “but know that i’m not leaving you. i love you and nothing will ever change that.”

“there’s nothing we can do now,” you whined, clutching to his shirt as if he’d disappear once more.

“we can go to the recommended therapy. we can get that surgery to fix your cervix,” he reminded you, rubbing circles onto your back as you sniffled. “then, if you’d like, we could try again for a baby.”

“so you still want to be with me?” you whispered by his ear, clearly worried of the answer.

“of course i do,” he said as if there were no other option; there wasn’t. “i’m so, so sorry, love.”

“the reason i didn’t tell you is because,” you sighed as you shuffled on top of spencer, now sitting on his lap and facing him. “because there’s this stigma that comes with having an abortion - and i didn’t know how you’d react. i also didn’t know it didn’t go well in the first place, but that’s a different story,” you chuckled. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you about something so serious.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “that was from your past. this is our future, we shouldn’t get caught up on it and allow it to ruin this.”

you nodded, “you’re right. are-are you staying here, now? or are you going back to derek’s?” there was an obvious look of hope in your eye that spencer never planned on squashing.

“i’m staying here,” he smiled. “home. you’re my home.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes as a laugh left your lips.

“i’ve missed your smile,” he pressed a kiss to those very lips, your smile not going away but growing even bigger.

“i’ve missed you,” you pointed at his chest. “please don’t leave again.”

“i won’t. ever again,” you held your pinky out, he smiled and wrapped his own around it. “i’m so sorry.”

“we’ll work at it,” you sighed. “we’ll build back the trust and fix my stupid cervix and then maybe try again for a baby.”

over the next few months spencer and you had been going to therapy once a week, mourning the loss of your baby and working through your other issues.

five months after you found out about the miscarriage, you had the surgery to fix your cervix.

one year after you fixed your cervix you and spencer began talking about having a child. you were extremely nervous, rightfully so. you voiced your concerns to spencer about what if the surgery didn’t work? what if your cervix wasn’t the only issue? and he replied by reminding you that you would both take this one step at a time.

seven months after having the conversation with spencer about having children, a miracle had caught up to you.

you were pregnant.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@spenxerslut

@spencerreid9

@spencyreidpls

@spencerreid9

@spencersmagic

@calm-and-doctor

@the-local-pendeja

@spencersrose

@spencersmagic

@shemarmooresfedora

@pastelbabygirl19

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me or leave a comment!

#tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage #tw abortion #tw abortion mention #tw depressive thoughts #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort

412 notes · View notes

myherowritings · 4 years ago

Text

PART 7. WHAT’S BETTER THAN EATING THE RICH? THE RICH EATING YOU OUT

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 4.7k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. the filthiest thing i’ve ever written, fem!reader for this part and shouto uses “princess” an excessive amount of times, sir kink i’m sorry, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (just bc i totally forgot abt condoms ok my bad), too much foreplay?, shouto’s a soft dom i think?, very much so 18+!!! and the title is exactly what it sounds like

A/N. here we are !! the final part !! my first shouto series i didn’t put on hiatus LMAO,, the moment you’ve all been waiting for HFSJKG ;) this was very fun to write i hope it’s not too bad BHFBDSHS i’m so in love with ceo!shouto and this series was my fav to write in a while!! now without further ado pls enjoy some smut with feelings :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

You almost didn’t make it into the elevator to Shouto’s penthouse before you wanted to pounce on him, but to your complete frustration, he was showing such restraint that the only contact he let you make was holding his hand.

For someone who was so eager to kiss you earlier, he was showing a lot of patience now, you thought with a huff.

You tapped your foot against the tile flooring as Shouto took his sweet time unlocking his suite. Even when he entered, instead of taking you straight to the bedroom like you anticipated, he pulled out two glasses and filled them with water.

Handing you one, he asked, “Did you want something to eat?”

“No. ‘M not hungry right now,” you mumbled, trying not to appear too pouty.

Apparently, it didn’t work very well since he stifled an amused chuckle. “How about some water?”

Your eyes narrowed but you begrudgingly accepted the glass. “Hmph.”

“Someone seems a little tired right now, hmm?” he placed his glass down and led you towards his bedroom. “Maybe we should go straight to sleep—”

You couldn’t help yourself any longer. “Shouto,” you whined, drawing out the ‘o’ sounds, your lower lip jutting outwards in a frown.

“Yes, Y/N?” His tone was too innocent for the events he had in mind for the night.

“If you don’t take me to bed and fuck me right now, I’ll…”

“You’ll…?” Shouto teased, but the darkened gaze in his eyes told you his own restraint was wearing thin.

You turned away with a huff. “I’ll be upset!”

“Well, we don’t want that.” He laced his fingers through yours, bringing your hands up to his lips to give them a kiss. You were slightly placated, but that was still nowhere near the amount of contact you desired. “But I think you’d find it more comfortable if we continue this with your dress off first. Come.”

Your stomach clenched at the simple command and you willfully followed behind him into the second door to the right. You hardly had time to admire the design of his room and size of his bed before Shouto moved from his spot next to you to one behind you. He placed one hand on where your waist met your hip and the other on the small of your back, making your spine straighten at the touch.

“Did you need help taking your dress off?” he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

“Yes, please, sir,” was your airy reply.

His breath caught in his throat and his grip on you tightened. When he spoke, his voice was hoarser than normal. “Since you asked so nicely.”

So, he liked when you called him sir? You made a mental note of that with a smirk.

But your cocky expression didn’t last very long when Shouto skillfully unfastened the top few buttons of your dress, softly placing his lips on your now exposed skin and gently planting kisses all the way down your back. He didn’t stop until he reached the curve of your ass, unbuttoning the final button and nipping a kiss right at the base of your spine. You jolted, hugging the fabric of the dress to your chest so you wouldn’t be completely exposed.

“Finished unbuttoning your dress for you, princess,” he said, placing one final kiss on your spine before gently twirling you around to face him. At your flustered gaze, he smiled. “Now what would you like for me to do to you?”

You lifted your chin despite your slight embarrassment at having to voice your desires. “I want you to kiss me.”

“Hm. Have I not been kissing you this whole time?”

“On the lips,” you emphasized, tugging at his tie as you tried to pull him closer to you. You batted your lashes at him. “Could you please kiss me on the lips, sir?”

A small chuckle escaped him, but he was happy to oblige. “You know, you’d be good in business. You certainly know what to say to get what you want, hmm?”

You answered with a smile as he finally—fucking finally, after a whole week of waiting—pressed his lips against yours. They were soft and warm and tasted like strawberries and ice cream, his favorite flavor of the candies the two of you stole from the gala.

Delicious.

Shouto must’ve thought the same thing since, not long after the start of the kiss, he coaxed your mouth open with his tongue, deepening the movements, one hand softly cupping the area where your head met your neck while the other was hot against your exposed lower back. He applied the slightest bit of pressure at the right time—just enough to make you sigh in pleasure.

Your own hands found a way to tangle themselves in Shouto’s hair, completely abandoning their job clutching your dress to your body. Now, you were so tightly pressed up against him, the only thing that could possibly keep the fabric up was his chest against your own. One sudden movement and it might just…

He nipped at your lower lip with his teeth and you jumped, gasping at how good the light stinging sensation felt. You felt your dress slip down your body to expose the swell of your breasts, but before it could fall any further, Shouto gingerly picked you up and laid you down on his bed.

“Oh—” you managed to say as your head landed on a pillow and your back on the plush, silk sheets that covered the mattress.

His left arm rested on the pillow beside your head as he hovered over you. “Have something to say, princess?”

“Y-You may continue,” you sniffed, lifting your chin up. Your heart skipped a beat at the teasing pet name and then another beat when Shouto leaned down to give you a kiss. But instead of landing on your mouth again, he chose to leave an open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive part of your neck, gently biting and sucking at the skin.

His feathery light touches tickled you, your nerves working on overdrive and every stroke feeling like it was amplified. You couldn’t help but giggle at his soft nibble and he paused to look at you questioningly.

“Tickles,” you replied, laughing at his confused expression. “But it feels nice.”

Shouto hummed, the vibrations buzzing against your neck. “That’s good to hear.”

Returning to your lips, he kissed you with a smile creeping on his face and you returned it. His forehead rested against yours as you toyed with the fabric on the front of his suit. You unknotted his tie as your lips clashed against each other, the motion no longer soft and gentle but instead more fervent and intense.

Finally getting his tie to come undone, you flung it off the bed and worked to unbutton his shirt collar, not caring if it got wrinkled in the process. Shouto reciprocated the eagerness by sucking the tip of your tongue with his mouth before pulling away from you completely.

A whimper left your lips at the sudden loss of warmth and you couldn’t help but pout, grabbing at his shirt again to pull him back.

“Be a good girl and be patient, okay?” he said, running the tip of his index finger against your jawline.

You huffed. “I’ve been plenty patient. I want you to do something now!”

In other times, you’d probably be embarrassed about how whiny you sounded, but at this moment all you wanted was for Shouto to finally touch you more.

He nipped at your collarbone before looking down at you. “Hm. Are you a princess or a brat?”

“I can be both. I’m very multifaceted,” you said haughtily, sticking your tongue out to let him know you were only joking.

“You are,” he agreed.

It seemed Shouto decided to finally listen to your pleas since his attention swiftly returned to that of your neck, dragging his lips down until he reached the swell of your breast. Over the fabric of your dress that was barely clinging onto you, he placed wet, open-mouthed kisses over your chest, his teeth accidentally grazing against your nipple.

You cried out quietly and he felt encouraged by the sound, this time taking your peak into his mouth with purpose. He formed his mouth into the shape of an ‘o’ and softly sucked your nipple, the tip of his tongue making circles around the bud. His saliva wet the fabric of your dress, leaving you to shiver at the cold against your wet breast when he pulled away from you.

“S-Shouto,” you whimpered, squeezing your legs together to relieve some of the tension. “More.”

“More? What exactly do you mean by that?”

“I want you to…” You gestured towards your body.

“To what? Take your dress off and fuck you? Or just continue playing with your breasts?” he asked, listing off suggestions in a low rasp. He kissed below your chest and down your stomach all the way to your navel. “Or maybe you want me to go lower until I reach that pretty pussy of yours.”

You nodded fervidly, not trusting your voice. “A-All of the above?”

He chuckled in amusement but was ready to dutifully continue his work.

“But…” you murmured, running your hands down his half-unbuttoned shirt. “I want to see you too.” You looked down at his crotch area then back at his face, biting your lip nervously. “And I want to make sure you’re also having a good time.”

A guttural noise sounded from the back of his throat as he ran his hands down your body, giving you an appreciative look. “I’m having the best time.” He kissed you chastely. “Are you?”

You looked like a mess sprawled out on his bed, dress half hanging onto your chest and the fabric of the skirt only covering one of your legs. You didn’t know for sure the state of your hair and makeup, but you were sure it was thoroughly roughed up as well. “I think it’s quite obvious I am, sir.”

Shouto smirked, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. “Good.”

Instead of answering him, you brought your fingers to the lower-half of his shirt, unfastening the final buttons and untucking it from his suit pants. His shirt hung open, exposing his lean yet muscular torso. You ran your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, absentmindedly brushing against his nipples which caused him to shiver. When you reached his collar, you threw the fabric behind his shoulders and he got the message to take his shirt off.

“So pretty,” you whispered breathlessly.

“Your turn.” Slowly, Shouto slid down the silky fabric that was just barely covering your breasts all the way to your navel. He tapped your thigh and said, “Up,” and you immediately obliged, lifting your lower body up so he could remove the dress completely.

Taking his sweet time—much to your frustration—he folded the dress and placed it on a dresser near his bed. When he turned his gaze back to you, you were holding your arms over your chest, feeling bare in nothing but your panties with sheer detailings.

His stare burned holes into you. You felt like his gaze was leaving a trail of fire against your skin. Shouto’s expression looked sensual but soft as he admired you, giving you enough confidence to lay your arms down by your sides instead of over your chest. He zeroed in on your breasts as he gave them a kiss.

“Beautiful,” he whispered and your cheeks burst into flames. Your whole body felt hot as you folded one leg over the other so he couldn’t see the arousal gathering at your thin undergarments.

Noticing the movement, he raised a brow at you and uncrossed your legs with his large but slender hand, his grip firm on your thigh to prevent you from covering yourself like that again. Shouto pressed one of your thighs into the bed with his palm, and your other thigh with the gentle weight of his knee, holding your legs open for him.

The cool air from his room hit your wetness seeping through your underwear and you felt yourself clench around nothing.

You shifted under his weight, desperate for some release. “Shouto, please.”

It seemed he no longer had the restraint to tease you further since he nodded, moving lower down the bed so his face was hovering above your clothed pussy. “May I?”

“Fuck— Yes,” you moaned, core heating up in anticipation.

Shouto landed his lips on your fabric-covered cunt, licking a stripe across your slit. Your growing arousal mixed with his spit through your panties, a lewd noise sounding when he pried the fabric away from your pussy. He slid them off your legs, holding it up to examine the arousal slick on the garments. As if he had no shame, he politely folded it and placed it on top of your dress with a smile.

“T-That’s not what a gentleman would do,” you managed as he returned to his position in bed in front of your now-bare cunt.

“And what is it that a gentleman would do, princess?” he whispered dangerously close to your most intimate parts. “This?”

Without warning, he tenderly kissed the bud between your legs. You moaned, legs attempting to kick out in surprise and pleasure, but they remained immobile since Shouto held them down in place.

“Or perhaps this?” Shouto ran his tongue down your folds and back up to your clit, rubbing small and steady figure eights against the sensitive nub.

“Yes!” you cried out, canting your hips towards his mouth in pleasure. “Oh, god— Yes to all of it. Please… Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” He hummed as he continued his ministrations on your pussy, the vibrations shooting right up your core and causing more wetness to seep out onto his face, but he didn’t let that bother him. In fact, it only seemed to encourage him further.

Not removing his mouth from your clit for even a second, Shouto hooked one of your legs over his shoulder while leaving the other flat against the silky sheets of his mattress. He dragged his opened mouth down to your dripping pussy lips and entered into your slit with his tongue. The new position sent ever more waves of euphoria through you and Shouto licked and sucked at your folds.

You lifted your hips higher and he nuzzled his head deeper, his tongue reaching places you had only ever imagined. The lewd noises of Shouto’s mouth smacking against your slick cunt filled the quiet room. As you moaned, your hands threaded themselves into the base of his hair, lightly tugging him even closer than either of you thought possible.

With his hand that wasn’t holding your thigh down, Shouto found his way to your chest, reaching up to palm at your breast all while still sucking your pussy. He flicked your nipple and gently rubbed it with his thumb and forefinger. Your breathing hitched at the mix of sensations, your core tightening and heating up as Shouto continued to eat you out. “Fuck— Oh— Shouto!” you cried, unable to hold back the volume of your voice.

As if he knew what was coming, he removed his hand from your breast and briefly paused, though his face was still resting against your thigh and pussy. “Not yet, princess. Do you think you can hold on for me?”

You whimpered at the thought of postponing your release, but you trusted that he would make up for the wait. “Okay, sir. For you.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Shouto continued his attack on your cunt with his lips, this time bringing his hand down to rub lazy circles around your clit. His tongue was deep in you, his nose teasingly bumping against your sensitive bud as his fingers flicked against it harsher. Rougher. He nuzzled his head from side to side to hit places far within you as you whimpered and moaned.

The stimulation of both his fingers and his mouth on your pussy was almost too much to handle as your thighs quivered and your cunt clenched uncontrollably.

“S-Shouto, please I—” Your voice broke off as a moan of pleasure ripped through you.

“You can come now, princess,” he murmured into your folds, the vibrations only pleasuring you even further.

And so you did.

You felt yourself orgasm as Shouto continued to suck at your cunt and brush against your clit, moving slower and more gently as you came down from your high.

When he finally looked up from your pussy, the lower half of his face glistened with your fluids, sending you into another state of desire. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you want more of him.

Shouto smiled as he wiped the fluids of your arousal and ecstacy on his chin with his index finger. Instead of taking it into his mouth, however, he held it in front of your lips. “Look at the mess you made for me, princess. See how good you taste.”

After only a moment’s hesitation, you brought his finger that was coated in your arousal into your mouth, swirling your tongue around and sucking him, giving him an idea of what you would do if that were his cock. You released his finger with a soft ‘pop’ and smiled innocently at him.

“Are you going to fuck me now or should I suck you off first, sir?” you asked, tone of voice all too pleasant.

His bulge strained against the snug fit of his pants and you wanted nothing more than to relieve some of his pressure. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to take my cock into your mouth, but right now I just want to feel you around me. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine with me!” You nodded eagerly, the thought of being filled up with Shouto now taking over your mind completely.

He chuckled at your excitement, though he was feeling the same thing himself. Swiftly, he removed his belt and took off his suit pants. You helped by tugging his black boxer briefs down and watching gently stroking his erect shaft in awe.

Was every part of Shouto pretty? He was just a gift that kept on giving.

Your mouth almost watered in anticipation, biting your lip as he lowered you back against the mattress, your head falling onto the plush pillows. He positioned his member against your slit that was still dripping wet from his spit and your first orgasm.

Shouto rubbed his tip against your already sensitive clit and your slightly parted folds, not yet entering deep enough to satisfy you. He moved his cock back and forth against your pussy as you both watched, the fluids of your arousal and his mixing for further lubrication. Your eyes were fixated on the sight, the thick head of his member disappearing into your sopping pussy lips before coming back out, slowly getting you prepared for his full length.

It was sweet of him to be so patient, but you were on the verge of tears at the frustration you felt. “Please, Shouto! More.”

“What should you call me again, princess?” he drawled, continuing the leisure movements of rubbing his head against your lips. The fluids smeared all over your pussy and dribbled down onto your thighs and his bedsheets. If you weren’t so aroused, you might’ve been a bit embarrassed. But there was no time for that when all you wanted at this very moment was for Shouto to fuck you silly.

“Sir—!” you corrected yourself in a whimper. “Please, sir, I want your fat cock to fill me up.”

He groaned at your words, pulling out of your folds until only the very tip of his dick was touching you and then thrusting forward into your wet depths as you let out a loud cry of pleasure. You felt a stretch inside you as you adjusted to his length, Shouto taking note of how you stiffened and giving you time to get more comfortable.

He began to nibble at your breast, sucking and biting your perk nipples as your arousal built. He nipped you, causing you to gasp in surprise (a very pleasant surprise) before soothing the bite with his tongue. As you arched your back, he swirled the tip of his tongue around your nipple and you hooked your leg around his hips, pushing into his lower back with your calf to signal for more.

“Ready now?”

You nodded fervently.

“Words, princess.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” you managed, voice shaky from your gratification being filled by Shouto. “Use my pussy to make you feel good. Please.”

“You always make me feel good, Y/N,” he said sincerely, removing his mouth from your breast to kiss you on the lips. Your tongues intertwined and you tasted yourself on him. “You’re amazing, you know?”

You smiled into the kiss. “Show me how amazing you think I am with your cock then.”

“Anything for my princess.”

With that, he pounded into you, holding you at the waist to steady your squirming. You hitched your leg higher and higher around his back, canting your hips to let him thrust into you at deeper angles until he hit the spot.

“Oh—! Oh, god,” you mewled in satisfaction, his cock making you feel so good you were certain your eyes almost rolled back into your head. “Fuck, right there, Shouto— Yes!”

At your vocal encouragement, Shouto pushed into you even deeper, his swollen tip rubbing into you at the perfect angle. Your head lolled to the side and your cheek pressed against the soft pillow as you salivated at the intense feeling of his cock thrusting in and out of your weeping pussy.

“Mn,” he made a noise, softly tapping your cheek. “Keep your eyes on me, princess. Don’t look away.”

You struggled to blink away how dazed you felt, feeling so good it was almost unbearable. Somehow, you managed to turn your head back to face him, trying to hold eye contact. “‘M sorry. You feel so good,” you sighed contentedly. “Like your cock was made for me.”

He held your leg higher and you just about screamed from pleasure. “You feel so good too,” he said, one hand stretching your leg up and the other reaching down to toy with your clit. “Never want this to end.”

With his fingers and thumb rubbing against your clit and his member hitting your g-spot, you were certain your throat was going to grow hoarse by the end of the night from all your screaming. You swore you saw stars.

“Want to,” you panted, thrusting your hips up to match his movements, “do this...with you...every...day.”

“Please.”

When his lips found your breast again to tug at your nipple, you couldn’t help yourself any longer.

“S-Shouto, I— I’m going to come,” you told him, voice pleading. You really hoped he let you come.

He hummed in agreement. “Me too. Come with me, princess.”

You lifted his head from your breasts to meet your mouth, kissing into him as you both felt the sweet release of pleasure coursing through your bodies, all the way from the top of your head to the curl of your toes.

His pace slowed as he carried the two of you through your highs. Shouto removed his finger from its position of making circles onto your clit to let you cool down with him. In a state of euphoria, you kissed him, both of you riding your orgasms until you felt nothing but completely happy and thoroughly satiated.

Still not taking his lips off of yours, he moved from being on top of you to lying beside you. Your eyes fluttered shut even as you kissed, nuzzling into his hot, sticky body and ready to pass out.

“‘M sleepy,” you mumbled onto his lips. You just wanted to stay like this. Forever if you could.

Shouto smoothed down your brow, his thumb moving in gentle strokes. “Let’s get you cleaned up first, princess. Then you can sleep.”

The rational part of you knew it would be best to clean up. But your overwhelming desire was simply to never let go of him. “Wait! I still want you.” Lazily, you murmured, “Let’s do it again.”

“You’re about to fall asleep but you want to have another round?”

You nodded. “I...might fall asleep during it, but yes. Want to do it with you again and again.”

Shouto smiled, shaking his head in amusement. But you pouted. It wasn’t a joke, you meant it. You just wanted to stay by his side.

“We can,” he said and you instantly brightened up, “another day.” You huffed. “When you can stand on your own two feet without falling over.”

Your lower lip jutted out in a frown.

“Don’t look so down, princess.” He kissed the top of your head. “It can be tomorrow or the next day.”

Slowly, you perked up again. “Or the day after that? And the next day after that?”

With a laugh, he nodded. “Anytime you want me. I’m yours.”

“I’ll always want you, Shouto,” you told him sincerely, gazing into his eyes.

His face was colored a light pink, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his lips were swollen and bright red. He looked beautiful. It was a sight you’d never tire of.

“I’ll always want you too, Y/N. More than anything. I...love you.”

And in that moment, there was nothing else in the world you would rather hear. No one else you’d rather be with. You were happy to have Shouto and that was better than all the money in the world.

“I love you too.”

— ✩ —

A few days have passed since the fateful night you exchanged ‘I love you’s with Shouto and now you were back at work.

As usual, you were working the morning shift with some cranky customers, trying your best to make the start of their day go as smoothly as possible. And, as per usual, Shouto walked into the cafe a few minutes after rush hour to spend a part of his morning with you.

“Good morning, sir. How can I help you today?” you said teasingly, giving him a brief kiss over the counter, chaste enough that no one else would notice but you two.

“Morning, princess.” He smiled. “I’ll have a medium flat white, please.”

“Of course. And could I interest you in some of our fresh pastries?” you laughed. “Oddly enough, we have your favorite today.”

He perked up at your words. “Cheese danishes?”

“Yup!”

“I’ll have five boxes of a dozen, please.”

Humming to yourself, you entered his order into the register and told him the price. “Your order will be to your left when it’s completed,” you recited, knowing he’s heard this plenty of times before. After he paid and got ready to walk away from the counter, you playfully called out, “So, no tip this time?”

Shouto smirked, glancing back at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe I can pick you up tonight and give you a tip then.”

“A...tip?” you asked, stifling a giggle behind your hands. “Was that an innuendo?”

“Innuendo—?” A look of realization crossed his face and his cheeks colored.

You grinned to yourself. As confident and well put together Shouto could be (which you very much enjoyed and found incredibly attractive), you also got extreme pleasure in seeing him blush and grow flustered.

“No… I didn’t intend it like that.” He paused, thinking on it. “Well, I guess I did. But I didn’t mean to make a pun of it…”

Your laughter rang out across the whole store, smile spreading bigger and bigger. “You’re cute, Shouto. Thanks for the laugh.”

He looked sheepish but nodded. “Thanks for letting me hear your laugh. It’s radiant.”

“Smooth talker.” You stuck your tongue out.

“Just the truth.”

“Hmm,” you sighed happily, a feeling of contentment and euphoria settling within you. “But about your tip…”

Shouto blushed.

“I’d love to come over tonight,” you told him. “Any excuse to see my lovely boyfriend.”

“You never need an excuse to see me. Because I always want to be with you too.”

The two of you kissed again, unable to help yourselves. Though it was brief and light, it still sent tingles down your spine.

Shouto was sweeter than any cheese danish or chocolate croissant you could ever make, better than any tip you could ever receive, and you couldn’t wait to continue your life with him.

a/n: omg...this is the end ╥﹏╥ thank you to every who read and commented and sent asks and just supported this series in general ! it was very fun to write and i have a toothache from all of shouto’s sweetness and fluff hfjhggg tysm for reading ily !! xx sof

#PHEW THIS IS DEFINITELY NOT GOING IN THE MAIN FANDOM TAGS LFMDSOGFO #very filthy and also unedited but i really hope u enjoy the final part of etr!! <333 #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha fanfiction #mha smut #todoroki shouto smut #todoroki smut #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n

2K notes · View notes

shotorozu · 4 years ago

Note

hello !! I'd rlly like to request Monoma if that's alright! I've had a huge soft spot for him for a while now and I'd love to see more content of him ;v;

anyway! we all know that superiority complex of his is definitely hiding some insecurities, but I also feel like he'd be quite touchstarved too bc of his peers seldom physically interacting with him due to his quirk, yknow?

with that in mind, I'd love to see how he'd handle an s/o who has "physical touch" as their main love language. they can give verbal praise/comfort, but they always get so shy abt it that they prefer giving physical affection to show their love. and maybe combining that with "quality time" being their second love language, they love to just cuddle him or toy with his hands/hair during quiet moments uwu

if you wanna do multiple characters, I'd love to request Shinsou, Midoriya, and Amajiki (separately) for the same idea, but if you'd rather do this with just Monoma then I'm okay with that !! no worries if you don't wanna do all four ♡

thank you if you do this request, and make sure to take care of yourself !! ♡

physically affectionate s/o

character(s) : monoma neito, shinsou hitoshi, midoriya izuku (i cut out tamaki for this one, sorry :[ but i’ll do another part if anyone wants it)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, strong quirk but the details aren’t specific, reader is a part of 1-A

headcanon type : fluff (and if you squint, then crack)

note(s) : yes i do agree :,) monoma should be getting a little bit more content, and i’m sorry that this came out so late! i was multitasking with other requests (because i took a 2 day absence,,) but this doesn’t mean i don’t read people’s requests

»»————-　♡　————-««

monoma neito

monoma 🤝 bakugou “the pros at sending mixed signals”

if there’s one thing he’s known for— then it’s for the persistent teasing, and his quite obnoxious attitude (especially at 1-A)

but he’s not a terrible person, he sure does have his reasons. and by now, people either choose to ignore him, or they simply knock the wind out of him

so, he was not prepared to encounter someone that was tolerant of him, AND also his type— like.. huh. that’s.. odd

and he was even more surprised when they accepted his wild love confession. there must be some catch to it, right?

so like i’ve said— monoma sends a lot of mixed signals. it’s either he’s complimenting your existence, or teasing you in various ways.

so— it’s just another normal day of monoma mouthing off to you, teasing you in a playful way, while you guys are hanging out this is way of making you remember him

but then, you just.. leaned forward and placed your hand on his head— not exchanging any words at all.

monoma’s first reaction is (・・?) because what?? someone is touching him right now.. wait.. someone is touching him!

honestly really shook, and at a lost for words— because everyone has refrained from coming into any physical contact with him? what a surprise! what even is this?

after said incident, you decide to speak “you had something in your hair.” and for once, monoma is the one that’s sitting in silence

“R-REALLY, Y/N? DID YOU REALLY THINK THAT WAS GOING TO W-WORK ON ME OR SOMETHING?” he questions in his usual mocking tone, but his cheeks are accompanied in a flushed red

he’d only experience field day when he realized that touch was basically your love language, with quality time in the second lead

so whenever you guys are spending time together, you’d,, actually go closer to him! this has never happened before, let him be

he doesn’t really like the idea of getting his hair touched, so you usually choose to fiddle with his hands— sometimes observing his details, and other times you’ll be comparing hand sizes

he’ll ridicule you for being so touchy— but he’ll ask if he’s “that irresistable?” while also moving you closer to him. he loves it a lot, okay?

don’t let class 1-b see this, he will flex on them because when he starts getting annoying again, they’ll use you as blackmail.

“monoma, i swear— if you do that, we’ll tell Y/N-”

“HAHA— ok, i’m sorry.”

shinsou hitoshi

he probably has the most chill reaction out of the bunch

again— another person that has been antagonized because of their quirk. he’s been perceived as villanious ever since his middle school days

kids have been told to keep their distance away from him at a young age so.. you’d bet that he’d be really touch starved

he never had any serious experiences with dating, and he never had any real friends— that weren’t cautious of his quirk

that was until he met you, which he just assumed you were another highkey stuck up person in the hero course

but, you were basically the opposite, and you were a real pleasure to have around. one thing lead to another, and now you guys are dating

he thought it was really cute whenever you got too shy to just sit in silence during dates, or to even give out words of affirmations

but hitoshi was surprised at first when he felt you pull yourself closer to him— resting your head on his shoulder. the concept of someone wanting to be in his presence is still sinking in for him

lucky for you! shinsou knows how to adapt to situations quickly, immediately slinging an arm around your shoulder, as he listens to you talk

he’ll be surprised when you start touching his hair, because golly!! are you guys close

but do it more pls, he loves it a lot— it sometimes makes him really drowsy.

if you play with his hands omg, his heart will do somersaults. he’s lucky that he’s able to keep himself composed.

loves watching you choosing to cuddle him, after briefly giving up on trying to form coherent words of affirmations.

it’s something he brings up quite often, but not in a teasing manner!

sometimes he’ll pat the free spot beside him, basically begging you to come closer to him.

eventually, denki notices on how touchy he’ll get whenever you’re around— but hitoshi will just shrug it off

“it’s always been that way.” he simply says, but he’ll turn around with this big ass grin on his face 💀

he’s whipped for your touch. so please, do it more

midoriya izuku

he’s also touchstarved. actually, all of them are really touchstarved, and for different reasons 💀

well.. it’s not like he had a choice from the getgo. he was born quirkless, and that lead to him becoming an outcase— and also the victim of bullying i wanna hug him

and being told constantly that he won’t ever be enough, or he won’t ever be a hero— it’s obvious that he doesn’t have any dating experience

but he didn’t think he’d be dating anytime soon— especially since he was ‘just’ pinning over you. he was convinced it was going nowhere

until you confessed. he’s surprised that he didn’t pass out

ever since you guys started dating, he noticed that you’ve been a little timid— not in the way that you feel awkward, more like,, you wanted to say something

or do something, because when you guys were studying together, you just suddenly sat closer to him— and started counting his freckles

he short circuited for a second.

he was reduced to a stuttering, and blushy mess— and you just laughed, telling him “you should continue what you’re doing!” as you ran your other hand across his shoulders

that night, he was wide awake in his bed— recalling your gentle and loving touch, running his hands along the parts of his hair, that you’ve touched

he loves quality time, because while he does like to ramble a lot— he does enjoy spending time with you in silence, but it’s the touches that makes him flustered

despite him being quite shy to initiate any sort of touch, you— on the other hand, were shy with saying praises. so you coped with physical touch, and quality time

man, izuku never gets used to it. no matter how much he tries to— he’s just.. needy, touchstarved.

he doesn’t realize how lost he looks when you’re sitting beside him, and not touching his hair or hands for once. please feel free to do so

oh, and since we’re on the topic of hands— he’ll tear up if you start playing/fiddling with his hands, and especially when you start tracing his scars. it makes him feel so warm.

okay but,, please give him a heads up if you’re going to act touchy in public. he’ll start stammering and blushing hard you might have to put him in rice or smth

the dekusquad talks about that quite a lot, especially when they accidentally witnessed it in the common room (for the first time)

in short— he adores it. sometimes he’ll initiate it, by asking you if you want to sit beside him, to play with his hair. he’s so inlove

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing, and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or use my works for audio readings without my permission :))

1K notes · View notes

toburnup · 2 years ago

Note

I usually don’t really like pov switching in fics bc like you said for me it disrupts the flow of the story and sometimes I like not knowing what the other person thinks and feels and their intentions bc it feels like I’m living the story with the person whose pov it is, but let me tell you, you blew my mind with the Eddie chapters. It was so interesting to look inside his brain and to see his point of view and realize that I, just like Steve, was blind to some things. Like how Steve was always the one to show up unannounced, how he could spend a week without coming not knowing Eddie was waiting for him bc he’d come every day before that. And to see that Eddie was also blind to some things like Steve’s alcohol problems (from what I understood he noticed but didn’t realize how bad it actually was?). And I also loved that those chapters weren’t just a retelling of Steve’s chapters word for word, it just felt like I was watching a montage of some moments through Eddie’s eyes, the ones that were memorable to him and maybe the ones that he still thinks about. I’m sorry for this essay, I just wanted to tell you that this fic has already become one of the best ones I’ve ever read in any fandom, thank you for this. I hope you know how talented you are❤️ Can’t wait for the next chapter!

💙💙 i'm!!!! ahh!! i'm so happy! writing eddie's pov was both very fun, and also very clarifying for myself.

also :) the examples you gave! love them. and i want to get into both a little more, so.... rambling below the cut!!

steve letting days go by without visiting because he doesn't realize eddie is waiting!! such a big misstep between them both. in steve's (slight, biased) defence, he didn't know that bothered eddie. steve said (fairly early on) that he "can't tell if you want me to keep coming over" and eddie's response sums up the different way they communicate their feelings. eddie doesn't say, "yes, i want you to come over." he says "if i didn't want you here, you wouldn't be." which is very different in terms of messaging. less direct. also untrue, lol. but steve is more comfortable with verbalizing that kind of thing so he follows it up with "so you want me to stay?" and eddie doesn't answer, just holds out his hand, which is an answer of sorts.

but steve asks again: "is that you saying it?" so that's 3 times that steve is asking this question of do you want me here? and eddie is unable to answer. because to him, admitting that he wants steve there is admitting that he notices when he's not, that something fundamental is missing. that he's lonely. and it's much easier to tolerate being alone when you don't think of it that way.

eddie not realizing the extent of steve's drinking - they wouldn't have the language for this, but eddie's dad was pretty much a functioning alcoholic. like in the opening section of eddie's first pov chapter, his dad is drunk when he drives them out into the storm. i've both struggled w/ addiction, and later on worked with people in recovery, and some people are able to live their lives while being heavily addicted w/o their communities noticing. eddie knew his dad was drunk because he'd seen it happen so many times, but it was also normal for his dad to be drunk and not necessarily act like it. so steve's own drinking wouldn't really be a red flag for him, it's just something he Notices and then moves on from. he's not concerned because why would he be?

the only time it seems to bother him (from steve's pov) is when steve drives over drunk on new years, but even then, from eddie's pov we see that his irritation isn't from steve being drunk at all. it doesn't really register for him like that. he moves steve's car, lets him climb into bed. he's just annoyed because he thinks steve has been avoiding him (not visiting) since he was "back in hawkins" after christmas. this isn't a judgement of eddie that i'm making, either. i think he's a victim of circumstance in a similar way steve s in this particular instance.

a montage of some moments through Eddie’s eyes, the ones that were memorable to him and maybe the ones that he still thinks about - nothing much to add, i just really really like how you phrased this. lovely.

as i went through steve's chapters and picked out some sections to write eddie's pov, there were a few that i wrote bits of, or added to. i had a lot of fun writing the sections where steve's perception misaligned with eddie's. or when he'd say things when he was drunk or post-orgasm lmao, and wouldn't necessarily remember.

super long answer. thank you for sending this message!!

#is your light on #my fics #wheeeee meta talk #vio answers #iylo meta

16 notes · View notes

alrightberries · 4 years ago

Text

“may i?”

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff & angst. ❈ word count: 8k

❈ summary: you’re the medic assigned to take care of captain levi as he heals from the explosion. you’re also the only person he tolerates.

alternatively: in which you create prosthetics for humanity’s most war torn soldier.

❈ trigger warnings: manga spoliers. profanity. mentions of violence, blood, gore, and death. mentions of sexual themes.

a/n: levi’s kinda ooc bc i couldn’t write the progress of his relationship with reader without making it longer than it already is. also this is medically inaccurate (re: healing time of broken bones and amputations) for the sake of the plot so pls no one throw hands.

Levi doesn't like looking at mirrors.

There was no tragic backstory behind his distaste for the reflective surface, no deeper meaning or hidden symbolism as one would expect from a man with his past. The reason behind it was simple: he just saw no reason to.

He wasn't vain, wasn't too concerned about his face, didn't care much to look at his physical appearance aside from when he had to cut his hair or get ready for the day to look presentable to his comrades. He knew he was attractive, and effortlessly so. The little letters and gifts he’d received from fans and admirers proved as much, and his title of “Humanity’s Strongest” only added to the appeal. Really, there was no reason for him to always be looking into a mirror.

But now... Levi simply couldn’t understand why that mindset had vanished. It was replaced with the fervor to always be staring at his own reflection— not out of vanity but out of disgust.

The disgust of staring at his mutilated face.

He warily lifts up the small mirror he held in his hand, features contorting into a grimace at the man staring back at him. Scars and cuts littered his cheeks— some deeper than others, but none as terrible as the long jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face. It started from his forehead and ended at his bottom lip, held together by ugly black stitches the medics had hurriedly sewn on him the second he got back to the base. His right eye was split in half, completely useless, completely blind; held together by the same black stitches that donned the ugliest scar of all.

And Levi couldn’t help but think that this man was hideous.

He was hideous.

Levi reaches out with his right hand to touch his scars out of habit. He feels his heart tighten when he realizes there’s only air where his fingers should be and he nearly breaks the small mirror he held in his good hand from how hard he was squeezing it.

The mirror makes a gentle clink as he sets it down onto the mahogany of his desk. Bitterly, he stares at his three fingered right hand. His pointer and middle finger were gone, nothing but pathetic stumps protruding from his knuckles where they used to be. It was still covered in bandages and a makeshift brace so he wouldn’t strain himself when he moved, but he knew it was useless. He couldn’t move those stumps even if he tried.

He probably should’ve been thankful to have made it out of that explosion alive— not unscathed, but alive nonetheless. Though Hange had tried cheering him up (“Look on the bright side, we can wear matching eyepatches now!”) he simply couldn’t find it in himself to celebrate coming back so... useless.

His writing was as legible as chicken scratches. His right eye spasmed in pain every time he blinked. He couldn’t even try to relearn how to use the ODM gear with his new circumstance, and he mentally curses out his orders to stay put and heal.

Too many things were lost, too many people, too many lives.

All because of that damned explosion.

All because of that damned bearded bastard.

Levi is pulled from his thoughts when three soft knocks reverberate throughout his otherwise quiet office, and he rushes to put his eyepatch on and hide the mirror in his desk drawer. He attempts to sit in what he hopes was a seemingly ‘professional’ position but his stiffness gives away his discomfort.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

He feels himself release a breath he didn’t even know he was holding once he hears the voice. Your voice.

“Come in.”

The wooden door creaks open before it closes with a soft click, floorboards making minuscule sounds at the weight as you make your way to his desk. Levi pretends to look busy as his good eye scans the document he held in his hand.

The sound of porcelain clinking against porcelain grabs his attention.

“Brought you tea.” You murmured. “I figured it won’t be up to your standards again but I did try my best.”

Levi still doesn’t look up as you set the tray down on his desk, and his good hand reaches for the steaming cup to take a small sip. His eye twitches at the taste.

“If you were going to bring me shit tea anyway then why bother.”

He hears a gentle chuckle but doesn’t see the way you smile at his contradictory words and actions. He made no move to throw the “shit tea” away, something he was infamous for with teas that didn’t meet his standards. Instead, he keeps sipping, gently placing the cup down onto his table once he finished.

“I thought that maybe distracting you with terrible tea would keep your mind off me changing your bandages.” You explained, and Levi nods but doesn’t speak. When silence once again filled the room, interrupted only by the occasional crumple of documents you knew he wasn’t reading, you take it as your cue to pick up your pen and clipboard to start the checkup.

“Have you felt any discomfort or pain in any of your extremities such as your right eye or your right hand?”

“No.”

“Have you felt any throbbing or other sensations in any part of your body?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any fevers, headaches, dizziness, or sudden spasms in any part of your body?”

“No.”

He hears you set your clipboard down and his skin tingles from your doubtful stare. He didn’t have to look to know it was there. He risks a glimpse at the papers attached to the wooden board in your hands but just as he expected, you didn’t write down any of his answers.

“Have you lied to any or all of the questions I’ve asked during your routine checkup for today?”

“...yes.”

A soft sigh escape through your nose and your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. “Captain, lying to your medic won’t get you to the battlefield faster. You’re of no use to anyone when you’re injured.”

Levi clicks his tongue at your reply but he holds his smart ass comments back. He knew you were right, and it infuriated him so much.

“Fine,” he grits out. “My right eye’s been twitching all day. The fucking stumps on my right hand don’t feel like stumps. It feels like I still have fingers there, and I know it’s complete bullshit since they were lying next to my face when they got blown off.”

His angry glance finally lands on you. “That the answer you were looking for, oh medic of mine?”

It was now your turn to click your tongue. “Not quite,” you mumble, writing down his answers onto the file in your hands. “Feeling your missing limbs even after they’re amputated is normal. It’s called phantom touch.”

You place the clipboard back onto his desk and reach into your pockets, pulling out pristine white gloves before gingerly putting them on.

“Your right eye still spasming though, that’s concerning.” You add. Your hands slowly reach out to his face, and Levi momentarily flinches away out of habit. But you made no move to touch him.

He eyes you warily, tense muscles relaxing even just the slightest as he sees your gentle stare.

“May I?” You ask softly, a caring smile on your face.

Levi only nods, not trusting his words, and he once again tenses up as he feels your hands unbuckle the leather straps of his eyepatch before setting it down onto his table. He keeps his bad eye shut.

Your hands are gentle as you touch his face, touch nothing but a soft caress in such a way that his tender stitches felt no pain. Your eyes are focused on his stitches, lacking any judgement or ill will, and Levi’s suddenly aware of how close you actually were to his face.

Your eyes were beautiful, he noticed. They always were. The little furrow in your eyebrows as you concentrated was cute, and the soft caress of your hands on his cheeks as you inspected his face felt... nice, and dare he even say relaxing. Momentarily, when he finally lets himself adjust to the atmosphere, he lets his tense muscles ease.

“Can you open your right eye, Levi?”

“Y-yeah.”

FUCK.

What the fuck.

Did he just fucking stutter?

Levi’s surprise is only painted on his face for a few mere seconds before he schools his expression back to one of stoicness and neutrality, and he prays to all the existing gods he knew of that you wouldn’t notice.

He risks another glance at you. One of your eyebrows is arched and the corner of your lip is quirked up in a small smirk, but you dared not comment on the captain’s speech mishap.

Fuck. So you did notice.

Before he could try to save face by dishing out some bullshit reprimand of being disrespectful for calling him by his name and not his title, the words die on his tongue as you lean in impossibly close and oh god your noses were almost touching, your eyes are even more beautiful up close, and what the fuck is—

“Captain,” you repeat. “Can you open your right eye please?”

Oh, right.

He doesn’t speak as he does what he was told. He feels his eye open but no vision comes to his senses.

“It’s looking... not so good.” He hears you mumble, face contorted into one of concern. “It’s actually looking pretty bad.”

Levi scoffs. “Not one to beat around the bush, are you.”

You roll your eyes, the small smile once again returning to your lips.

“How long have you been keeping the eyepatch on?” You ask. Your hands are holding his head in place now, grasp a little more firm but not enough to hurt.

“An hour at most.”

“Are you lying again?”

He sighs. “Yes.”

You nod but made no further comment, leaning back to grab the clipboard once more to write down your observations.

“So,” you start. “Are you going to tell me the truth or do I have to poke your bad eye?”

Levi’s lips turn into a frown at the notion. “I’ve kept it on the entire day. And I know you’re probably lying about poking my eye, but in case you’re not, no. I do not want you poking my eye.”

You nod your head again, writing more things down onto your little clipboard.

“You should let it breathe. Keep it on for an hour or two at most but take it off when you sleep. Too much friction with the eyepatch might cause irritation.”

As the consultation draws on, Levi tries (keyword: tries) to be as honest as he could. Not that he could be dishonest when you were so good at snooping out his lies, though. You were already used to his stubbornness.

He wasn’t lying, however, when he tells himself that his heartbeat did not speed up when your hands gently held his own as you changed his bandages and cleaned his amputation; he wasn’t lying when he tells himself that the tips of his ears were not burning a bright red, cheeks flushed as you asked him to take off his shirt; and he definitely wasn’t lying when he tells himself that his dick did not twitch in his pants when your hands caressed his abdomen and back, accidentally hitting sweet spots he didn’t even know existed, to inspect his still purple bruises and healing ribs.

Yeah, he definitely was not lying.

“Okay, I think we’re done for today.” You say cheerfully. “I’ll be back same time tomorrow for another checkup.”

He glances up as he finishes buttoning the last buttons on his shirt. The gloves from your hands are taken off and tucked back into your pockets, and you hand him a small vial full of pills.

“Take one of these, twice a day at most, whenever you feel pain in your right eye.”

“I’m not feeling any—“

“Sure you’re not.” You cut him off with a smile. “I believe you. But feel free to contact me for any pain or discomfort you feel at any time of the day. I’ll be more than glad to find you.”

Levi says nothing, opting to instead stare at you as you gather the now empty teacup and kettle, placing them back onto the tray along with your clipboard and pen.

“Oh, by the way.” You speak, walking towards the door and opening it. You don’t spare him another glance as you finish your sentence. “I don’t think I can prescribe any pills to lessen blood flow to your dick.”

The door shuts with a soft click behind you, and Levi’s momentarily mortified as he processes your words. He risks yet another glance, this time down to his lap.

Shit, he thinks before he sighs. His hands readjust the hard-on in his pants.

Nothing goes past your observant eyes.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi doesn’t bother to look busy like he did last week, you noticed, because this time he was actually busy. Which was odd considering he was taken off paperwork duty until he could write again.

“What’re you up to?” You ask, setting the tray down onto his desk and pouring him a cup of tea. Your eyes curiously glance at the papers scattered about his usually clean desk, each filled with indiscernible writings of his name.

“Trying to write. I’m useless until I can.” He mumbles before he scoffs. “This would be easier if I had all my fingers.”

You nod along to his replies yet made no move to stop him. You picked up your pen and clipboard to write things down as well.

“You’re not supposed to be using your right hand, your amputation is still too tender.”

“Tch, what do you expect me to do then?”

“Uh... use your non-injured, complete left hand?”

Levi blinks at your words, and he has half a mind to slap his forehead for being dumb and not thinking of that. Which he undoubtedly would’ve done had you not pushed the steaming cup of tea closer to his sitting form.

“Have some tea. You look like you’re about to pop a vein.”

Your smart remark is met with silence and a steely glare, and surprisingly, as Levi drank the tea you prepared, he notices it’s not downright terrible.

“Your brew’s better.”

“Yeah. I finally took your advice of using a thermometer to get ‘the perfect temperature’ after you complained about my ‘shitty tea’ for the nth time that week.”

Levi hides his little smirk behind the teacup, silently reveling in his small triumph before setting it down. From the corner of his eye, he notices you eyeing something, and his heart drops as his gaze follows your own.

The mirror. He forgot to hide the mirror.

Discreetly (or as discreet as he could) he takes the mirror and shoves it back into his desk drawer. You had many questions, that much he knew, but he was thankful when you didn’t push it further.

“Shall we begin?” You ask instead.

“Yeah.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi’s been trying to write again, you surmised, as you glanced at his focused eyes and the tenseness of his shoulders. Scattered papers still littered his desk and he was still trying to write his name. This time though, you were relieved when you saw he was using his left hand.

“Finally took my advice?” You asked, pouring him a cup of tea.

“Regretting it.” He doesn’t look up from his task as he answers, something you noticed he always did. “It’s been three days since I took your advice and my handwriting’s shittier than it was then.”

You smile, hand reaching out to hold his incomplete one that was clenched into a fist on the desk. He immediately stops writing, opting to instead stare at your hand atop his before glancing up at you.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you relax. You might tear your stitches.”

He feels you give his hand a gentle squeeze, and the warmth of your hand is suddenly gone from his own. You reach for the cup of tea you prepared, and he wills his cheeks to not show his blush at the small gesture. You slide the teacup across the table.

“What makes you think holding my hand will make me relax?” He asks snarkily. He reaches for the tea with his good hand.

“Are you relaxed?”

Levi ponders the question in his mind, noticing how his muscles were no longer tense, his shoulders were now slumped down, and his eyebrows were no longer scrunched. He sips the tea.

“Your brew’s still shit.” He replies instead.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I came here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Your head peaks out from behind his door as you enter, closing it with your foot and making your way to his desk. You were no longer surprised when you saw him still writing and scribbling messily at his desk as he’s done for days now, and you discreetly eye the papers as you pour him his tea.

“You don’t have to keep bringing me tea.” He comments, still focused on writing.

“I know.” You reply. “But how am I going to perfect your brew if I don’t practice?”

Levi glances up, and he raises his eyebrow as he sees you sat on his table, a cheeky grin on your face. He makes no move to scold you for being so casual in his office and instead reaches out to take a sip of the tea. He notices your expectant eyes, the grin on your face widening as he nods in approval.

“Your tea’s not bad today.”

“Really?! You think it’s good?”

“I said not bad, I didn’t say it was good.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

The first thing you noticed as you entered Levi’s office was, of course, the scattered paper around his desk, face focused as he continued to practice his writing. The second thing you noticed was that he was no longer using his left hand.

“It’s barely been two weeks. Did you give up already?” You ask as you pour his tea.

“I write better with my right hand.” He simply replies, not even glancing up as you slide him the beverage. He uses his good hand to reach out for the cup, silently preparing his tongue for another unpleasant attack.

He takes a sip and his eyebrows shoot up from surprise. The tea was... delicious, absolutely delicious, and Levi couldn’t find anything to complain about. The temperature was right, it wasn’t too bitter but wasn’t too sweet, and the aroma was delectable. He takes a sip once more to double check if his taste buds were deceiving him, but the second sip was just as good as the last.

His suspicious eye makes contact with yours, a shit eating grin painted on your face as you eagerly awaited his feedback. The porcelain makes a sound as he sets it down.

“You bought this from the tea shop across the barracks. That’s cheating.”

“For fuck’s sake!”

Three soft knocks reverberate through the door to Levi’s office. The captain hastily hides the papers with your name scribbled on, shoving them inside his desk drawer. A shiny glint catches his eye before he could close the shelf and he pauses as he realizes it was his mirror. He hadn’t taken it out in a while. He was always too distracted with criticizing your piss poor tea to even think about his appearance.

“Name and business.” He calls out, still eyeing the shiny object.

“Hange Zoe. Y/N asked me to do your daily checkup.”

Levi's eyes widened, heartbeat stopping for a second as he heard Hange’s voice. Where were you?

“Come in.” He closes the drawer as the door opens and Hange walks in.

Levi couldn’t help but notice that he was becoming uncomfortable the closer his friend got; skin prickling, hands sweating, his collar feeling a little too tight. Little by little getting more conscious of himself as Hange walked closer.

Was this what insecurity felt like?

He briefly wonders why he didn’t feel it with you, but his mind answers him with a simple fact: you were the only person who’s seen him mangled and bruised, and each time, you showed nothing but gentleness and care. Yet even with this knowledge, the notion that a person other than you would be doing his checkup today didn’t sit right with him.

He pushes his discomfort to the back of his mind, telling himself to remain objective. But it didn’t stop him from subconsciously adjusting his eyepatch and hiding his incomplete hand underneath the desk. He eyes the tray in Hange’s hands, spotting the kettle and teacup.

“I don’t want your shitty tea.”

Hange doesn’t look up as they pour him a cup, humming a tune Levi doesn’t recognize as they hand him the warm beverage.

“It’s not my shitty tea.” They reply. “It’s Y/N’s shitty tea. They made you a batch before they left for the mission.”

Levi’s good hand pauses for a brief second as he reaches for the cup, mind still processing the fact that Hange said Y/N and mission. You hadn’t mentioned anything to him, and since he wasn’t allowed paperwork duty until he could write legibly, he wasn’t aware of any missions.

“I see.” He takes a sip, and he immediately squints his eyes in doubt once his tongue caught taste of the flavor. “This isn’t Y/N’s tea.”

Hange looks up from the clipboard they were writing on, eyebrows are arched in curiosity. “What?”

“This isn’t Y/N’s tea. This is from the tea shop down the road.”

Hange’s confused face stays still for a few seconds, silently assessing whether Levi was being serious or not. A smile cracks on their face, turning into a grin as small chuckles left their lips, before finally turning into full blown laughter. The captain waits for the eccentric soldier to stop cackling and start explaining, but Hange’s answer only serves to confuse him more.

“Nice try, shorty. You crack me up.”

Levi ignores the remark about his height. “What do you mean?”

“Y/N owns the tea shop down the road. Made the recipe for the black tea you love so much, even.”

The captain’s good eye twitches, and if Hange notices, they don't comment. Levi takes a sip of the tea once more, a little more doubtful this time, before sighing in content as the drink makes its way down his throat.

“Why did Y/N go on the mission? I thought they were to be my caretaker until further notice.” He chooses to ask, placing the cup down and pretending to busy himself as he absentmindedly starts practicing his writing.

“Y/N is our topic medic, their skills are more valuable on the battlefield than in an office with you.” They reply, and the captain pretends that the truthfulness of the statement doesn’t sting the slightest.

“Besides,” Hange pulls out white gloves from their pockets, sliding the cloth over their hands to prepare for the checkup. “Y/N personally asked to be reassigned.”

Levi sputters and chokes on his tea at the sudden revelation, and he feels Hange’s hand patting his back as he tries to compose himself. You asked to be reassigned? But why?

“Why?” He manages to choke out before once more descending into a coughing fit. Hange silently hands him a napkin.

“They didn’t say.”

Perhaps you were done with his incessant criticizing of your tea making skills (if so, then why’d you keep brewing him a crappy batch? Clearly you could’ve made good tea whenever you wanted.) Perhaps you grew tired of watching over him everyday when you could’ve been attending to more injured soldiers in the medical wing or the battlefield. Or perhaps you felt a little cooped up in the office with him, hating that you were confined when you could’ve gone on missions to help the wounded.

Whatever your reason may be, Levi finally gets himself to stop coughing and wipes his mouth. Any questions he had, he would ask you. For now, he pushes his feelings to the back of his mind to ask a more important question.

“Why are you here and not on the expedition, Commander?”

Hange shrugs.

“I wanted to bond over eyepatches with you.”

Levi was trying, okay? He was really trying.

But god, the new caretaker assigned to him was nothing short of a complete and utter noob. His bandages were always either too loose or too tight, his touches every time he tried to inspect Levi’s scars were always an ironclad grip, and worst of all, his tea was pure and utter shit.

“Watch it!” Levi barks, and his caretaker jumps about two feet away from him at his yell. “What’re you trying to do?! Are you inspecting my broken ribs or trying to give me a broken rib?”

Oh, that too. His caretaker was the hands on type, something Levi wouldn’t have minded if not for the fact that his caretaker was also heavy-handed, and Levi had had enough of this bullshit.

“Stop it, just stop. Get out of my office, right now, and find me a new caretaker.”

“B-but, Captain, there’s no one else who can—“

His caretaker is cut off when he makes eye contact with the enraged captain. Levi’s eyebrows were knitted together in anger, and the glare on his left eye was nothing short of terrifying. The fact that he only had one good eye left did nothing to lessen the intimidation of his glare; if anything, it made it even more intimidating.

“I will not repeat my order. Go.”

The boy in front of him nods nervously, head bowed down and metaphorical tail tucked between his legs as he quickly scurries out of the room. Once Levi hears the soft click of the door shutting, he takes a deep breath and lets his body slump into his chair.

That was the fifth caretaker he’d kicked out this month. He wasn’t picky, he tells himself; he just had standards. Standards that apparently these damned amateurs they kept sending him couldn’t meet.

Briefly, his conscience contradicts him; the image of a certain top medic popping in his mind, one that he hadn’t spoken to in almost a month since they dropped him out of the blue. Maybe, just maybe, he was being picky. With a dash of passive aggressive and a sprinkle of butthurt. But Levi quickly brushes that thought aside when he remembers the incompetence of all his recent caretakers.

That was definitely it. He wasn’t petty, all his caretakers were simply idiots.

The captain hears three loud knocks on his wooden door, and he grits his teeth as he mentally prepares himself for whatever fuckery the clown caretaker they assigned to him was about to do this time. True to his words, Levi did end up breaking a rib from how heavy handed the last one was, and though he knew it was partially because his body was still quite fragile, it didn’t hurt his request for a new medic.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here to do your daily checkup.”

Levi feels his eyes widen and heart speed up, and he once again rushes to hide all the papers scribbled with your name as he shoves them into his desk drawer. He composes himself, trying to appear uninterested and professional as he speaks.

“Come in.”

The door squeaks open and Levi doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes soften and his shoulders slump in relief as he sees the familiar sight of you. A soft smile dawned on your face as you gently kicked the door close, walking towards his desk and setting down the tray you held in your hands.

“Heard you fired everybody who came after me.” You mused, eyes teasing as you poured him a cup of tea. He didn’t think he’d miss someone pouring him a cup of tea as much as he did now.

“Their tea was shit.” He replies, taking a sip of the warm beverage and holding back his sputter at the god awful taste. “Yours is too.”

You chuckle, picking up the clipboard and pen to start writing for today’s checkup. “Can’t help that I suck at brewing tea.”

“You don’t have to keep making me shit tea anymore. The secret’s out.”

You freeze in your spot, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before you nervously clear your throat. Levi definitely noticed.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know you own the tea shop, Y/N. Stop lying.”

You let out an irritated sigh. “Hange told you, didn’t they?”

“Yep.” He replies, popping the ‘p’.

I’m going to fucking kill Hange, you think to yourself, silently gathering your composure once more. Levi watches you intently, continuing to sip on the terrible tea before deciding that he’d assaulted his taste buds enough and placing it down.

“Why’d you do it?” You hear him ask. “And don’t lie to me. You’re not the only one who’s gotten better at spotting lies.”

Why’d you brew shitty him tea? Is he that affected by it?

Your reply was already on the tip of your tongue, head glancing up from your clipboard to say your answer. But your words don’t come out and your mind suddenly cleared when you saw the look in his eye.

Levi’s eyes were nothing short of gorgeous; a beautiful gunmetal gray with a gaze deadly enough to kill a man with one mere look. But right now, even though they were schooled into his usual look of disinterest, you could see him... wavering. A mix of unanswered questions, curiosity, and— for the briefest second you swore you saw— hurt.

“I take it you’re not asking me why I brewed you crappy tea for the past three months?”

Levi clicks his tongue in irritation. “No, you idiot. I’m asking you why you left out of the blue. If you had a problem you could’ve brought it up with me—“

“No!” You quickly interrupt. “No, god no, you’re perfect.”

The captain’s eyes widen, and you suddenly realize the words you’d spoken as you quickly try to explain before Levi could interject.

“There was no problem, okay? I didn’t request to be reassigned because I had a problem. It’s quite the opposite, actually.” You murmur.

He eyes you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“I think I have a solution. May I?” You gesture, asking if you could sit on his desk. Levi nods, not understanding why you needed permission now when you’ve done it of your own volition countless times before, but he suddenly understands when you sit directly in front him and not across from him like you usually would.

He watches as you pull a small brown box from your jacket, placing it down onto his desk before opening it. Levi is quiet as he eyes the item inside.

“It’s just a prototype for now. I was hoping to carve out a better one in my free time, one that would be a custom fit, but my free time kinda went flying out the window when you started firing people left and right until no one would accept you but me.”

You pick up the wooden prosthetic fingers and gently place them onto his desk. Your hand opens palm up, waiting for Levi to be comfortable enough to lend his hand to you, and he does so silently.

“The prosthetic’s made from redwood and the joints are connected by small metal rods. It’s light and durable, and I weatherproofed it so it wouldn’t break down so easily when you use them.” You explain, unwrapping the bandages around his hand. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out the concept, actually. I just took a pair of standard issue Survey Corps gloves and cut out all the fingers. Then, y’know, attached the wooden fingers to where the pointer and middle should be.”

Levi could only nod. You weren’t sure if his silence was good or bad and you couldn’t read his look. But Levi— Levi was speechless. In his mind, he dared not speak in fear of looking like a fool. Especially not in front of the person who gave back a piece of himself (quite literally, at that.)

He tenderly looks at the way you fitted the prosthetics onto his own hand, fastening brown leather straps around his wrists to secure the glove. The minute the glove is on and he sees all five fingers for the first time since the explosion, he feels like he’s about to cry.

“I had Hange help me with the anatomy so you could still bend them as you would normal fingers. I couldn’t figure out how to make them move on their own though, so you’d have to manually do that yourself.”

To demonstrate, you bend one of the prosthetics, the wood imitating the bend of his finger but not springing back up despite his brain commanding it to do so. You watch intently as he fumbles around with his hand, moving the fingers about. The wonder and astonishment in his usually unimpressed eye didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it spurred you to continue on.

“Unfortunately, it’s not strong enough to flick the switches on ODM gear. You still have to relearn how to hold your blades when you’re cleared for training again.” You say regrettably. “But it’s strong enough to hold a pen.”

Your hand reaches for the forgotten quill across his desk, dipping it in the inkwell before offering it to him with a small smile. Levi slowly takes it, still speechless, as he readjusts his prosthetic to hold the quill and write.

His writing is still shit, undoubtedly; still no better than chicken scratches as he messily writes down the words. But god, the sight of the indiscernible handwriting next to five fingers brought tears to his eyes as he finally finished writing his name. The slightly legible letters of ‘Levi Ackerman’ stared back at him.

Levi couldn’t hold it back anymore. He immediately set the quill down before standing up to engross you in a warm embrace. You tense in his arms, not used to Levi willingly initiating any form of physical touch at all. But as he tucks his head into the curve of your neck and his shoulders start shaking, splotches of wet dripping onto your collarbones, you feel your arms encircle his waist, bringing him closer as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear and let him cry in peace.

Your hands ran through his scalp, willing him to calm down. Though normally the sight of a crying Captain Levi was something you never thought you’d see, you couldn’t help but feel honored he chose to share this rare moment of vulnerability with you.

You let him cry, still holding onto him, giving him his time. Briefly, you wonder what he was thinking. What pushed him to tears? Did the captain ever let himself mourn his losses? Does he mourn his friends, his family, the little pieces of himself that he’d lost along the way?

Though you had a million questions in your mind you dared not pry as you continued to comfort the weeping man in front of you.

Finally, after a few moments of nothing but silent sniffles and your sweet words, Levi finds it in himself to finally speak.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Night had fallen around the base, encasing the world in darkness that beckons slumber. Levi continued to stay awake, still in his office, staring at the prosthetic you had given him hours before.

Curiously, he feels himself form his right hand into a fist, not surprised that the two wooden fingers didn’t comply like the rest. It was imperfect and he himself thought it could use some tiny adjustments for the sake of comfort— something he definitely would bring up to you as requested.

And yet, despite knowing his ‘fingers’ were nothing but wood, leather and metal, he couldn’t help but think it was the best thing he could ever ask for.

Silently, under the lone glowing light of his oil lamp, Levi pulls out a blank sheet of paper and begins to turn his feelings into thoughts, thoughts into words, and words into sentences as his quill meets the white surface.

Hours later, he finds himself in front of your quarters, a candle in his left hand while his right held a pristine white envelope. The envelope containing unsaid words, unspoken wishes, and hidden feelings.

Your eyes are sleepy when you answer the door, half lidded and hair a mess when his knocks had woken you from your slumber. You rub your eye, adjusting to the light as you stare at the person in front of you.

“Captain?” You ask, stifling a yawn. “What’re you doing here so late?”

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he opts to look at you with an unreadable expression as he asks, “Can I come in?”

You stare at him for a few seconds more, and the thought of you slamming the door on his face crossed Levi’s mind; but that didn’t happen. Rather, you nodded and ushered him inside your bedroom, closing the door behind him as you once again flopped onto your bed.

He places the candle down on your bedside table and now he was unsure what to do. He had a plan— or, he thought he had a plan— but awkwardly standing in your room in the middle of the night wasn’t part of it.

Quietly, you chuckle at the sight of Humanity’s Strongest looking so odd and out of place, unsure and slightly panicked. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to sit, and he complies.

Both of you had your knees pulled up to your chests and you were thankful when you noticed Levi had taken his shoes off before sitting on the bed. A comfortable silence encompasses the atmosphere in the dimly lit room. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the close proximity.

From the corner of your eye, Levi looked like he was deep in thought. Not the kind you saw plenty of times in the battlefield or in strategy meetings, not the kind you saw when you entered his office as he hastily tried to hide his mirror. But the kind you saw when he quietly suffered through his own living hell.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, finally breaking the silence. He shakes his head.

“Well, what brings the mighty Captain Levi to my humble little room?”

“Levi.”

“What?”

“Call me Levi.” He murmurs, downcast staring intently at the envelope on his lap. “In this room, I’m not your captain. I’m not your patient. I’m not Humanity’s Strongest.”

You feel your eyebrows scrunch as surprise and curiosity paint your face, but not because of the captain’s offer to call him so casually. No— the surprise you showed was because he unclasped the prosthetic you made, not even sparing it a second glance as he carelessly threw it to you, and you barely managed to catch the limbs you’d spent countless hours and sleepless nights to create.

“Levi, what are you—“

“But I’m not a broken teacup for you to fix either.” He says, eyeing the stumps on right hand. “I’m not a doll who’s missing some parts. I’m not a charity case accepting donations.”

You were looking at him now, head turned in his direction as he unclasps his eyepatch and lets it fall onto his lap. He raises his head, eyes making contact with yours.

“I’m just Levi.”

A few moments of silence pass but neither of you look away. The reason why the captain continued to stare wasn’t something you knew. But the reason why you never looked away was because of his eyes.

Levi’s eyes were still as gorgeous as you remembered them to be. Though his right eye was a different shade from his left, a lighter and paler shade of gray; though it lacked the light and emotions his unharmed eye bore; though it had a jagged scar running through it from where he was hit, you couldn’t help but think that his eyes were still the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen.

Gingerly, you lift up your hand to touch the right side of his face where his battle wounds lie, the prosthetic forgotten as it falls somewhere in the sheets. He doesn’t flinch like he did the first few times you did it, when you reached for his face during checkups to inspect his scars. But it didn’t stop you from asking.

“May I?”

Levi doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings your hand to rest on his cheek as his head leaned closer to your touch. His eyes closed momentarily, almost as if he were reveling in your warmth. But they opened once more, and you willed yourself not to get lost in the sea of gray.

“You were never a charity case to me, Levi. Or any of the things you just said.”

“Then what am I to you?”

Your heart stops, eyes widening ever so slightly at his question. Would you tell him? No, you couldn’t. Not when—

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” His grip on your hand tightens a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to distract you from your thoughts. You realize the hand that held your own against his cheeks was his broken hand, his mutilated hand.

...would you really tell him?

You sigh, eyes finally leaving his. “You’re just another soldier who got hurt from a battle, asking a medic to take the pain away.”

Your hand slips out of his grip and goes back to your side, and you turn away from him once more.

“Are you lying?” He asks.

“No.”

“Then look into my eyes and tell me what I am to you.”

“I can’t.”

Your voice cracks ever so slightly, hesitant but determined to stick to your words. And Levi knew that he was never going to get an answer. He sighs, shoulders slumping down in defeat. It was now his turn to look away from you, gaze falling to his lap. The envelope holding the letter crinkles and he’s reminded why he’s here.

“I know.” He whispers back. “But do me a favor.”

He doesn’t look your way as he hands you the letter. He doesn’t look your way when you silently took it, eyeing the red wax seal that bore his initials, fingers tracing over the edges before—

“Don’t open it yet. Open it tomorrow morning before you come in for my checkup.”

You only nodded in response. You reached out, placing the envelope on your bedside table before once again sitting next to Levi. Just as you had started, a comfortable silence blankets the atmosphere. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the proximity.

But this time, it was he who breaks the silence.

“I don’t know what the future holds.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know what the future holds.” He repeats. “I could die in action tomorrow and be one of the bodies they wheel back from war, or you could die trying to save someone in the battlefield. Even if neither of us die tomorrow, there’s always a possibility that we’ll die the day after that. And the day after that and the day after that. Such are the risks of our jobs.”

He takes a deep breath. “But tonight, I don’t want to focus on tomorrow. I don’t want to focus on what the future holds. I don’t want to focus on titans or enemy troops or looking after my team.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You.”

Your eyes soften. “But what am I to you?”

You didn’t know what to expect, what his answer may be. But you know you didn’t expect it when Levi’s fingers gently grabbed your chin and coaxed your head to look in his direction. You didn’t expect it when you opened your eyes and met his, his warm palm resting on your cheek. And what you didn’t expect most was for his eyes to look at you with so much love, so much care and adoration. Gone were the facades of boredom and disinterest; the stoicness and detachment they always seemed to reflect. All there was left was softness, warmth, and what seemed to be the unmistakable swirls of vulnerability.

“You’re just another medic too busy putting other peoples’ lives before your own.”

“Are you lying?”

“No.” He whispers. “But you make me want to plan for a future I know we won’t have— a future we can’t have.”

And for the first time, you knew he meant it. You knew what he meant.

In your line of work full of death and violence and risks almost too big to take. In what you once thought was your little world, turning out to be too big for you to handle. In your personal brand of hell where tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, and loss was the only constant— it was enough. This small moment was enough.

“You have the most beautiful eyes.” You whispered, entranced. A soft chuckle leaves Levi’s lips, eyes turning into crescent moons so fitting of his gray orbs and your heart twitches at the sight and sound of his melodious laughter.

His thumb brushes over your cheek and your eyes meet his once again, the beautiful shades of gray staring you back. You didn’t know who did it first but at this point you didn’t care enough to find out because slowly, you both leaned in. Slowly, you both closed your eyes. And slowly, you both tilted your heads.

He pauses.

“May I?” Levi asks, lips merely inches away from yours. You nod.

“You may.”

And suddenly, the distance between your lips was no more.

There were no fireworks, no explosions in your heart or butterflies in your belly. There was no feeling of cloud nine, no feeling of want or need. There was only warmth in your chest, the feeling of a small fireplace crackling and glowing in the coldness of the night. The feeling of warm sheets and warm bodies cuddled up in an embrace.

Home.

The feeling of home.

Because that’s what you were to Levi, and what Levi was to you.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your routine checkup.”

“Come in.”

As the door opens and you set the tray down on his desk, hands gently holding the kettle to pour him his cup of tea, you noticed that Levi was still trying to write. But what caught your attention wasn’t the fact that it was no longer his name he tried to scribble, opting to write down complete sentences. What caught your attention was that he was wearing his prosthetics, and his eyepatch wasn’t on.

“Did you read the letter?” He asks. His hands were still writing and his eyes were still staring at the papers in front of him. But you could tell he was anxious.

“Yes.” You simply reply, and he nods.

“Good.”

If you want to be added to the tag list, click this link!

#the bit where levi visits oc #is my favorite part to write #and the lil banter at the start too #i love banter but i also love sweet little words #this is proof that i can be romantic without calling someone a dumbass #writing #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi imagine #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk imagine #shingeki no kyojin imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan imagine #aot imagine

2K notes · View notes