#i still had to get rid of every character's name

[finelinefae]

tongue-tied

synopsis: y/n has a stutter and harry likes to hear her talk

word count: 3.1k

contains: fluff, highschool romance, harry's a football player, popular boy x shy girl, brief mentions of bullying

a/n: happy soft girl Sunday !! I wasn’t planning on posting just because I posted the second part of the aviator a little later than I was meant to but I could resist putting this one out <3

. . .

“E-excuse me!” Y/N weaved her way through the mass exodus of students heading in the opposite direction to the lunch hall. She had tried to leave class a few minutes before the lunch bell to avoid the large groups of people but she had been so invested in writing her essay, she’d lost complete track of time. 

She was running as fast as she possibly could to get to the library, knowing the person waiting for her wouldn’t get too impatient but she didn’t want to waste a second of their lunch break not being with him. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, her braids flying behind her and her knee-high socks falling down her calves. 

Y/N barely registered the people around her, wondering where she could be going in such a rush, until her face collided with soft, grey fabric. Before she could even get embarrassed and profusely have to apologise for bumping into them, long arms snaked around her, hands clasping behind her back. She caught a whiff of his woody cologne and the floral fragranced detergent his mum always used to wash his school uniform.

“There y’ are, Dove.” He murmured, “I was starting to get worried.”

Y/N looked up and settled on those familiar green eyes she loved so much. She relaxed into his embrace, “Harry,” She sighed. 

Harry and Y/N had been dating since they were fourteen. If it weren’t for the fact that their parents all worked together at the local hospital, they probably would never have met at all, although Harry liked to believe they were fated to be together so they would have ended up meeting each other some way or another. 

Harry had always been popular at school. For one, he was on the football team which instantly made him a name within their year group. He was also very handsome for his age. Girls would whisper and giggle whenever he passed by in the hallways even those from the lower years. Despite the fact they had just turned seventeen, Harry could honestly pass for an almost twenty-year-old with how tall and mature he was. 

Y/N was the complete opposite. When it came to her social life she was shy and not often one to make friends easily. She was part of the arithmetic club and had made a few friends there and in some of her other classes. She liked to keep to herself and struggled to talk in class not only because she was quiet but also because she had a particularly bad stutter. 

It had developed when she started High School. She had been to multiple speech therapists to help her get rid of it and although it wasn’t as bad as it used to be, it still never failed to make her life all the more difficult than it already was.

A lot of the other kids liked to pick on her for it too. Whenever teachers picked on her in class and she’d reply, the rest of the class would start snickering, whispering in each other’s ears. She wanted to be invisible to everyone but it was her stutter that made her stand out.

When Harry’s family would come over to Y/N’s house for dinner, her parents would often force them to go off together whilst the adults spoke in the dining room. She remembered the first time she invited him into her room and how embarrassed she was when he saw all her comic books lying on the floor that she had forgotten to put away. But it eventually became the seed of their relationship, the common ground that allowed them to bond. 

Soon Harry was inviting Y/N to his football games and up to his room every other weekend when she’d come over with her parents. They’d exchange comic books and talk about their favourite characters. Y/N was always apologising for her stutter whenever she’d ramble on for too long but Harry never cared, he loved hearing her talk. 

Their first kiss was on her bed whilst their parents were in the room below them. Harry was the one to initiate it and Y/N hadn’t been expecting it so it was slightly awkward at first but then she got used to it and eventually all she ever wanted to do was kiss him. Every weekend, whether at her place or his, all they did was sneak around and kiss each other, giggling and falling in love all at the same time. 

Now, three years later, things were still the same except they were older now and more in love than they were yesterday. 

Wherever you looked, Harry was there, and Y/N was never too far behind. Students had grown accustomed to their relationship, and the bullying Y/N endured wasn't as severe as it used to be. Even teachers couldn't help but be enamoured with their young love — how fortunate it was to find love at such a young age. 

Things were great, everything was great and Y/N had hoped she could finish her last year of High School on a high note. That was until she entered her English class on a Friday afternoon when the teacher announced it was time for their presentations which would go towards their final grade. 

“I can’t Harry!” Y/N cried into her pillow after school, Harry was sitting on the end of her bed with his back against the wall as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. 

“I know Dove,” He comforted her, already knowing the reason she was so upset over it.

“Everyone’s going to l-laugh at me,” She could already picture herself standing up in front of her class and everyone pointing and laughing at her. 

Harry sighed, “Dove,” He shook her gently, “Will y’ look at me?” 

Y/N hesitated before turning her head so her cheek lay against the pillow. Harry smiled and lay on his side in the spot next to her, their faces inches apart, “There’s m’ pretty girl,” He cooed, his heart hurting at the tears on her cheeks. He cupped her cheek in his big hand and wiped some of those tears away with his thumb. 

“I-It’s not fair,” She huffed, “Why’d I have to have this stupid stutter.” 

“Hey,” He frowned, “Enough of that hmm? Everything about you is beautiful, y’ know I love to hear y’ talk. Could sit here for hours and just listen.” 

“But you’re d-different,” She whined, shuffling closer to him so she could hide her face in his grey jumper. Her stutter was rarely ever that bad in front of Harry which was why he was the easiest person she could talk to. 

Harry laughed breathily, his hand going to her hair to play with the strands, “Would it help if I helped you a little?” 

“How?” Y/N asked, her words muffled by his jumper.

“We could practise in the library at lunch, y’ could read me a few things and it might help your stutter.”  He thought.

Y/N’s head looked up to his face where she could count every mole and freckle on his nose and cheeks. She couldn’t help but pucker her lips to kiss his jawline, “That’d be nice,” She murmured. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, kissing the top of her head in return, “I only want to help you so if you don’t enjoy it or you’d rather practise alone then y’ can tell me,” 

She shook her head, “N-No, I want to do that with you. I’d like it very much.” 

So it became a daily occurrence, five days a week during lunch hours when Harry didn’t have practice, they’d sit in the library and Harry would pick out a book for them to read. They started with simple YA books with less complicated words. 

“Good job, Dove!” Harry cheered every time Y/N finished a chapter. 

“Wait I’m not done,” She huffed and then said the last line just for Harry to cheer for her again just as proudly as the first time. 

Now that the day of her presentation was getting closer, they had finally made their way onto Classical novels which Y/N had come to despise. 

They walked with their hands intertwined to the library after Y/N had bumped into him in the hallway. It was natural as they stepped into the library and headed straight to their table in the corner hidden away by two tall bookshelves. 

Y/N placed her bag under the chair whilst Harry unzipped his to pull out the book they were currently reading. It was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, even looking at the front cover made Y/N’s stomach turn. 

“A-Are you sure we can’t go back to YA books?” Y/N huffed, taking the book and opening it up to the chapter they were last on. 

Harry laughed, “But you’re doing so well, Dovey.” 

“I-it’s hard though and the w-words are so tiny.” She pouts, Harry can’t help but lean forward and kiss her. 

“C’mon, jus’ a few pages and then I can show y’ something I got for you.” He tried to persuade her, knowing the surprise would be enough to win her over.

“Fine,” She sighs dramatically. 

She read for five pages, Harry listening intently to every word. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke, stumbling over a few words here and there. He tried to hold back from smiling so much with how concentrated she was on each letter of every word. He thought it was adorable how her eyebrows creased and her hands gripped the book. 

Eventually, she had enough, placing the book down on the table and closing it shut. “Good job baby!” He cheered, pressing multiple kisses to her cheek, “M so proud of you.” 

Y/N giggled, “Thank you, Harry.” 

Harry smiled and reached into the pocket of his blazer for the surprise he had promised her. Y/N looked down and saw a small, black pouch in his hand. He gave it to her, her fingers carefully pulling on the ribbon before pulling out the small item inside. 

“It’s an anxiety ring,” Harry explained as she held the silver ring in the palm of her hand. He picked it up and slid it on his pinkie finger to show her, “Y’ can twist this band whenever you feel nervous, thought y’ could wear it on the day of your speech.” 

He passed it back to her, Y/N narrowing her eyes to look at the spinning band which had a small inscription written on it, ‘i love the way you speak almost as much as i love you, your harry.’ 

Y/N’s eyes watered, unable to come up with the right words to say how much she adored it as well as the boy sitting in front of her. Instead, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Thank you,” She murmured, “I love it. I love you.” 

Harry softened even more from her embrace, “I love you more, Dove,” He whispered. 

Y/N pulled away enough to kiss his lips, she was thankful for the privacy they had in the back of the library since she was never that good with public displays of affection and all she wanted to do now was kiss him because she was so grateful for him being there all the time. 

It wasn’t long before the day of her presentation. After school, Y/N had been working on a short essay. She was going to speak to the class about her favourite comic books and why she loved them so much. She had recited the words out loud to herself and Harry and even her parents, that she could probably speak it off by heart. 

Harry and Y/N stood outside the school. Her English class wasn’t until the third period but she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate in her morning classes until the presentation was over. Harry was wearing his football uniform because he had a game against another school in the morning. Y/N had been with him after school as he practised for it, wearing his coat as she wrote out her speech on a notepad. 

They stood side by side facing the school building as if it was some kind of beast they had to tackle, “O-okay,” She huffed, “I can do this,” 

Harry looked down at her smiling and then reached for her hand, “You can do this,” He squeezed her fingers in encouragement. 

“Good l-luck with your game today,” She grinned, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

“Thank you, baby,” He spoke softly, “Y’ can tell me all about your presentation and how well it went afterwards.”

“Okay Harry,” She nodded, completely determined despite how nervous she was. She had spent weeks preparing, she couldn’t let fear get the best of her. 

“Good luck kiss?” Harry grinned, cheekily. 

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes and craned her neck to kiss his lips. Harry held her face in his hands, unable to pull away from her even when she tried to, “I love you,” He murmured against her lips.

“I love you too.” She sighed, blissfully. 

When third period came around, Y/N stood outside her English classroom, counting to five in her head. She clutched onto the piece of paper where her speech was written out in gelled ink, spinning the ring Harry had gifted her on her finger. With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped foot into her classroom. 

. . .

Harry could hardly concentrate during the football match but he was trying his best. His team were two points ahead and it wouldn’t be long before the game was over. Since it was the morning and the game was mostly practice for the two schools competing, there wasn’t a huge audience watching them. 

He was glancing down at his watch every few minutes when he was supposed to have his eye on the ball, checking to see whether third period was about to start. All he could think about was his little dove and how nervous she was when they stepped into school this morning. 

She had been working so hard on reading things out, even stopping in shops when they went to town together to read the labels on the backs of food containers. He fully believed in her and her ability to speak in front of the class even when she didn’t and it killed him not being able to watch her do it. 

So when the whistle finally blew marking the end of the game, Harry ignored the celebrations with his team after they won the match and ran across the field through the entrance of the school. He raced up the steps, his football boots clicking against the crowd. He knew he probably didn’t smell the best and his knees were muddy from falling over but he didn’t have much time to think about it as he searched for Y/N’s English classroom. 

“Y/N?” He heard the teacher’s voice call her name as he approached. 

“A-Already? O-Oh, O-okay.” He could hear her nerves just by listening to her speak. 

Harry was about to knock on the door but he hesitated, wondering if it would worsen her nerves if he was in the classroom watching her. He knew how much of a big deal this moment was for Y/N and he didn’t want to intervene or make a spectacle of the moment especially since he wasn’t in her class. 

He lowered his hand and instead pressed his ear up to the door. 

“H-Hello,” Y/N started, “My name is Y-Y/N and today I will be sharing with you m-my love for comic books,” Harry’s heart ached as her voice came out quietly. 

“C’mon Dove,” He whispered, wanting her to do well. 

Y/N cleared her throat and let out a shaky exhale, “A-As you can probably tell, I-I am not all that good at speaking. I s-stumble over letters and sometimes even have to replace words with o-others because my mouth t-turns into mash potato and I can’t seem to get t-the words out.” People chuckled and Harry’s heart began to beat against his chest, “T-That is why I love comic books so much because of the l-lack of words. Instead, there are pictures,” Y/N continued, her voice gaining strength the more that she spoke, “T-They tell stories without the need for p-perfect sentences or flawless speech.” 

Y/N continued her speech and Harry spent the entire presentation with his ear pressed up against the door. He ignored the looks of teachers and other students walking past as a huge grin spread across his cheeks the more Y/N spoke in front of the class. 

By the time she had finished, it fell silent before the class responded with a round of applause, “Brilliant work, Y/N,” Her teacher said. 

Y/N felt like she was floating on a cloud as she left her English classroom. Even if her speech wasn’t perfect, she had done it and gotten through it all in one piece. As she stepped out, two arms snaked around her waist and lifted her off the ground, “Harry!” Y/N giggled as he spun her around.

“M so proud of you, Dove.” He kissed her softly, lowering her to the ground but refusing to move his hands from her waist. 

“I-I can’t believe I did it, Harry!” Y/N almost squealed. 

“Heard every word, y’ did so good, M so proud of you.” He rambled, unable to cease his admiration for her. 

“You heard?” Y/N’s eyebrows creased, her lips pouting slightly. 

“I ran here as fast as I could and stood outside to listen to you,” Harry explained, “Y did perfect, honestly, the best speech I’ve ever heard.”

“You really ran h-here to listen?” Y/N asked, still in disbelief.

“I did,” Harry smiled, “It was all I could think about when I was on the field.”

“Did you win?” Y/N asked. 

Harry pulled her flush against him, “You already know I did baby,” He smirked, kissing her. Y/N smiled against his lips.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Harry murmured, “To celebrate.”

“And do w-what?” Y/N wondered, even though the idea of spending any time with Harry was always her favourite. 

“Maybe go to the bowling alley and get dinner after,” He shrugs.

“O-oh and maybe we can stop at the comic book store on the way home!” Y/N said, excitedly. 

“Course m’love,” Harry’s smile widened the more she spoke, “We can do whatever you want as long as I get to hear you talk.” 

Y/N grinned broadly as Harry interlaced his hands with hers, feeling the cool metal of her ring against his skin. Together, they walked hand in hand down the hallway, Y/N unable to stop talking the entire time, while Harry hung onto her every word.

[archaeren]

Hello!! I hope you're having a good day ^^ I came across your post about writing non-linearly on Notion and I'm excited to try it out because the advice resonated with me! Though, I'm really new to using the app and, if possible, need help with how to do this part: 'where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry.' ;v;

Hello! Thank you so much for messaging!!! Since that post about writing non-linearly (linked for context) blew up roughly ten thousand times as much as anything I've ever posted, I've been kind of meaning to make a followup post explaining more about how I use Notion for writing non-linearly, but, you know, ADHD, so I haven't done it yet. XD In the meantime, I'll post a couple screenshots of my current long fic with some explanations! I'd make this post shorter, but I'm unable to not be Chatty. XD (just ask my poor readers how long my author notes are...) (There is a phone app as well which syncs with the desktop/browser versions, but I work predominantly in the desktop app so that's what I'm gonna be showing)

(the table keeps going off the right side of the image but it's a bunch of unimportant stuff tbh) So this is more complicated than what you'll probably start with because I'm Normal and add a bunch of details that you might not need depending on what you're doing. For example, my fic switches POVs so I have a column for tracking that, and my fic follows a canon timeline so I have a column for dates so I can keep track of them, and I also made columns for things like if a scene had spoilers or certain content readers may want to avoid, which they can access in my spoiler and content guide for the fic. (As I said, I'm Normal.) I also do some complicated stuff using Status and estimated wordcount stuff to get an idea of how long I predict the content to be, but again, not necessary. Anyway, you don't need any of that. For the purposes of this explanation, we're just gonna look at the columns I have called Name, Order, and Status. (And one called Part, but we'll get into that later) Columns in Notion have different types, such as Text, Numbers, Select, Date, etc, so make sure to use the type that works best for the purpose of each column! For example, here I'm using Select for Character POVs, Number for Order and WC (wordcount), and Text for the In-Game Date. Okay let's get into it! Name is a column that comes in a Notion table by default, and you can't get rid of it (which drives me up the wall for some purposes but works totally fine for what we're doing here). As you can see on the scene I've labeled 'roll call', if you hover over a Name entry, a little button called 'Open' appears, which you click on to open the document that's inside the table. That's all default, you don't have to set anything up for it. Here's a screenshot of what it looks like when I click the one titled 'I will be anything for you' (I've scrolled down in the screenshot so you can see the text, but all the data fields also appear at the top of the page)

(This view is called 'side peek' meaning the document opens on one side and you can still see the table under it on the left, which is what mine defaults to. But you can set it to 'center peek' or 'full page' as well.) All my scenes have their own entry like this! Note that I've said scenes, not chapters. I decide the chapters later by combining the scenes in whatever combination feels right, which means I can often decide in advance where my chapter endings will be. This helps me consciously give most of my endings more impact than I was usually able to do when I tried to write linearly. So hopefully that gives you an idea of what I mean by writing inside the table and treating the table as a living outline. The 'Status' column is also pretty straightforward, and might require a little setup for whatever your needs are. This is another default column type Notion has which is similar to a Select but has a few more specialized features. This is how mine is set up:

(I don't actually use 'Done', idk why I left it there. Probably I should replace it with 'Posted' and use that instead of the checkmark on the far left? whatever, don't let anyone tell you I'm organized. XDD)

Pretty straightforward, it just lets me see easily what's complete and what still needs work. (You'll notice there's no status for editing, because like I mentioned in my other post, I don't ever sit down to consciously edit, I just let it happen as I reread) Obviously tailor this to your own needs! The Order column is sneakily important, because this is what makes it easy for me to keep the scenes organized. I set the Sort on the table to use the Order to keep the scene ordered chronologically. When I make the initial list of scenes I know the fic will have, I give all of them a whole number to put them in order of events. Then as I write and come up with new scene ideas, the new scenes get a number with a decimal point to put them in the spot they fit in the timeline. (you can't see it here, but some of them have a decimal three or four digits deep, lol). Technically you can drag them to the correct spot manually, but if you ever create another View in your table (you can see I have eight Views in this one, they're right under the title) it won't keep your sorting in the new View and you'll hate yourself when it jumbles all your scenes. XD (And if you get more comfortable with Notion, you probably will at some point desire to make more Views) The Part column isn't necessary, but I found that as the fic grew longer, I was naturally separating the scenes into different points along the timeline by changes in status quo, etc. (ex. "this is before they go overseas" "this is after they speak for the first time", stuff like that) in my mind. To make it easier to decide where to place new scenes in the timeline, I formalized this into Parts, which initially I named with short summaries of the current status quo, and later changed to actual titles because I decided it would be cool to actually use them in the fic itself. Since it's not in the screenshots above, here's what the dropdown for it looks like:

(I've blocked some of the titles out for spoiler reasons)

Basically I only mention the Parts thing because I found it was a useful organizational tool for me and I was naturally doing it in my head anyway. Anyway, I could keep talking about this for a really long time because I love Notion (don't get me started on how I use toggle blocks for hiding content I've edited out without deleting it) but that should be enough to get started and I should really, you know, not make this another insanely long post. XDD And if anybody is curious about how the final results look, the fic can be found here.

[macabrebatz]

HOW YOU MET THE SLASHERS PT. 2

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I'm currently moving some of my old fanfiction onto here. These one-shots/drabbles are old (some are far older than others) so some of the writing is very short and in my opinion, not as great as some of my more recent stuff. But I have a soft spot for all of this since I know my younger self was working hard lol. So here’s a mini collection of my old “How You Met” series.

Characters: Brahms Heelshire, Otis Driftwood, Tiffany Valentine, Jack Torrance, Pavi Largo, Art the Clown, Billy Lenz, Luigi Largo, Will Graham

Warning/tags: Canon typical violence mentioned, occasional use of (Y/N) (I tried to get rid of some but there's still a few), not beta read

Word count: 6.1k

Brahms Heelshire:

You were hired by the Heelshires to take care of their son. When you arrived at the home you were shocked to find a doll instead of an actual person. You decided to shake off the strangeness of the situation.

You followed every rule. You were getting paid so being in a spooky situation wasn't going to deter you away from a good paycheck.

After a couple of weeks, things started to get more strange. A couple of your t-shirts had gone missing, leftover food disappeared, and you could have sworn you heard footsteps walking on the creaky wooden floor at night.

One night you heard a knock. It was faint but it didn't go unnoticed. You got out of bed and put your ear up to the wall. You could hear shuffling.

"Someone's in the house," you thought to yourself.

You made your way to the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. The door to Brahms's room was closed. You could've sworn you left it open.

Stepping closer to the door, you gently placed your hand on the nob. You turned it quickly, opening the door. And there he was.

A grown man sat on the end of Brahms's bed. He had a mess of black hair on top of his head and his face was covered by what appeared to be a porcelain mask. You squinted your eyes. The mask resembled the face of the doll that you had grown fond of taking care of. No, it can't be.

You stepped back in shock. Fear and confusion clouded your mind. You wanted to run but your legs were frozen.

"Please don't be scared," the man pleaded.

The voice was gentle and soft. Your mouth fell agape.

"Brahms?" you questioned, stuttering his name.

The man nodded his head.

"So...you are alive."

Otis Driftwood:

You lived down the street from the Firefly family for years so you've known Otis early on. As you got older you started to stay over at their house. Baby Firefly was your best friend and she could tell that you had a crush on her brother.

"You know he likes you too," Baby said as you sat behind her, braiding her curly hair.

"I highly doubt that," you mumbled.

Every time you came over, Otis would shut himself in his room. He never seemed to even be remotely interested in you.

You finished Baby's braid and she turned around to face you.

"Don't believe me? Go talk to him," Baby insisted.

"Go talk to him? About what? We've barely ever spoken to each other," you said.

She took you by the hand without saying anything, dragging you upstairs. The two of you busted through Otis' door uninvited. He sat there watching an episode of The Munsters.

"What the fuck are you two doing in here?" he said aggravated.

You turned to leave but Baby caught you by the arm, pulling you back.

"We want to watch TV since there‘s not one downstairs," Baby said, flopping down on Otis' bed.

You stood there, looking down at your feet.

"Gonna stand there all day or are you gonna sit?" Otis asked, peering up at you.

You hesitantly sat down on the bed by Baby.

"I'm going to go get something to drink," Baby said, hopping back up from the bed.

Before you could insist on going with her, she was gone, leaving you seated by Otis.

"She's not coming back," Otis mumbled.

"Oh, then I probably should go after her," you said.

"Nope. You're watching TV with me," Otis said.

It sounded like an offer, not just a statement.

You nodded your head and sat watching TV with Otis for the rest of the night.

Tiffany Valentine:

You sat down in one of the last couple of seats in the movie theater. It was late at night, 11:45 to be exact. Every year on Halloween night you found yourself sitting in this theater, patiently waiting to watch the annual midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Most years, you would have had someone come with you. Your friends usually would tag along. But this year you were alone. You didn't exactly mind. The energy of the other Rocky Horror fans made up for it.

You had a small bucket of popcorn sitting in your lap, along with a grab bag full of props. The theater would pass them out since audience participation was always encouraged at the showings. You took a sip from your drink and sat it back down in the cup holder on the seat. Glancing around, you took note of how full the theater was. Almost every seat was filled, besides a few seats here and there. One of those empty seats was right beside you.

"Hi, may I sit there?" a voice asked beside you.

Looking up, you saw a woman with wavy blonde hair. She wore a black leather jacket with a bustier underneath, along with tight black pants.

"Oh, of course," you said.

She sat down beside you.

"Thank you," she said with a smile.

"You're welcome."

"If I would've known the theater was going to be packed I would have left home sooner," she said.

"I got here just in time as well," you said with a chuckle.

"I'm Tiffany, by the way."

She reached out her hand and you shook it. You told her your name and smiled.

After the movie had ended you found yourself walking out of the theater with Tiffany, talking about movies as the two of you made your way to your respective vehicles.

“It was good talking to you,” she said, slipping a small piece of paper in your hand.

You looked down at the tiny note, which had her phone number scribbled on it.

“Give me a call sometime,” she said with a wink.

You watched the blonde saunter away to her car before hastily adding her number to the contacts in your phone.

Jack Torrance:

"Is this seat taken?"

You turned to see a tall man who looked rather scruffy. His eyes were dark and there was some red puffiness around his eyelids.

"Nope," you said, offering him the seat.

The bar was rather empty. Only a few stragglers were inside, including you. You needed a late-night drink. Something to clear your mind. Or fog it up. You just needed to forget.

The man beside you ordered a Scotch and didn't hesitate to drink it down quickly.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

He then ordered another drink. This time he asked the bartender to just leave the bottle. Either he was going through a tough time or he was just an alcoholic.

"I had a bad day. Needed a drink," you said, "What about you?"

The man was silent for a bit as if he was struggling to answer.

"Divorce," he stated simply.

His voice was quieter than before. It seemed as if the divorce was rather fresh. His face dropped a bit and he looked as if he wanted to throw his glass across the bar.

Hesitantly, you patted him on the shoulder. It was a kind gesture. You didn't need to know the details. You could tell that this man was hurting. His outward expression was one of anger, but somewhere deep down you could tell that he was upset.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Don't be. It was a long time coming," he said.

A long time coming. You could say the same thing about your current situation.

You had just cut ties with your ex. A part of you was relieved. The other part of you was enraged that you hadn't ended things sooner. But now it was time to move on to new and better things. And why not start by making a new friend? You took a sip of your drink and then turned in your seat towards the man.

"I'm (Y/N), by the way," you said, sticking out your hand.

"I'm Jack," he said, shaking your hand.

Pavi Largo:

You had known Pavi for a little over a year. You had worked with Amber Sweet before, making her dresses and personalized latex corsets, and she had introduced you to him.

After that, Pavi soon fell in love with your talent and hired you as the entire Largo family's official personal stylist. The last one had to take a personal leave after a violent encounter with Pavi's brother, Luigi. You on the other hand found your job to be much safer than anticipated. You knew beforehand that taking a job working for any member of the Largo family would be a risk. But after a few months passed you started to have fun.

"My sister wants you to make this," Pavi said, entering your workshop.

He opened up a magazine and sat it on your desk, revealing a model in a latex mini dress. You walked over from your workstation and went over to the desk, picking up the magazine.

"She's really getting obsessed with latex and vinyl, isn't she?" you mumbled, taking a closer look at the picture.

For the past two months, almost everything Amber had asked you to make was made from shiny black vinyl, PVC, and leather.

"Almost as obsessed as she is with going under the knife," Pavi laughed.

You glanced up at Pavi, taking a good look at the woman's face he wore as a mask. You squinted your eyes as you noticed the skin was starting to look rather splotchy.

"Pavi, you need a new mask," you said.

"No, I don't," he said, sitting down in a chair in front of your desk.

"I think you do," you insisted.

He simply shrugged and put his legs up, resting his feet on your desk. You sighed as you watched him do so.

"You can go now."

"And why would I do that? It's much more fun in here watching you work," Pavi said.

Pavi had a habit of doing this. He'd come in with a minor request and then find an excuse to stay. It didn't bother you all that much but today was a busy day. You were making two outfits for Amber, a suit for Luigi, and a dress for some guest who would be arriving at Gene-Co for an event.

You didn't have the time to entertain him.

"I have to work, Pavi," you said sternly.

"Take a break. Talk to me," he said, pouting his faux face.

"I don't have time."

"Alright...alright. But may I make another request?"

You rolled your eyes. There was already so much work to be done in such little time.

"Yes," you said.

He stood up and walked over to you. His hand reached up and caressed your face, grazing over your skin.

"Come with me tonight and help me find a new face," he said.

It wasn't much of a request. It was much more of a statement. A demand.

You nodded your head in agreement.

"Consider it a date," he said with a smile.

Art the Clown:

It was the middle of the night on Halloween. You stumbled on your feet as you made your way down the sidewalk. The air was proceeding to get colder as time passed.

You weren't sure what time it was. Your cell phone had died hours ago at the Halloween party you had left.

You couldn't drive home. You were far too intoxicated to do that. Plus, you didn't have a car of your own. Your friend had picked you up before the party. When you went to leave the party there was no sign of her or the car. Figuring that your friend had ditched you for a late-night hookup, you decided to tread back to your house.

Your outfit wasn't providing much warmth either. The clown costume you had picked for the Halloween costume was cute but it was made out of thin fabric. Cursing to yourself, you looked around.

Across the street from you was a pizza restaurant. The open sign still glowed and the lights were on inside.

"I could go for some food," you thought to yourself.

You walked across the street and entered the restaurant. A feeling of warmth cascaded over you as you stepped in.­­­

"Welcome! Great costume! What can I get you?" a man greeted you from behind the counter.

He was heavier set with tan skin and dark hair that was slicked back with styling gel.

You looked over the multiple options of pizza behind the glass of the counter. You ordered a slice of your favorite pizza and sat down at a booth.

As you ate, you heard the bell on the door chime. Glancing up, you noticed a tall figure dressed in a white and black clown suit with an alternating pattern. His face was painted white, and his face was covered in what you assumed to be prosthetics. In his hand, he carried a black bag.

For just a second, you forgot it was Halloween, and a chill ran up your spine. The feeling disappeared quickly as you assumed he was in a similar situation as you. Either going to or coming from a Halloween party.

The stranger sat down at the booth closest to the door without ordering anything.

"May I help you?" the man at the counter asked the clown.

There was no answer; the clown just looked away.

You decided to ignore it and continued to eat your pizza. It was Halloween after all. All types of people were bound to be lurking around.

As you ate, you couldn't help but feel a strange sensation. Goosebumps were forming on your neck. You glanced over to the clown. He was staring at you. Almp began to form in your throat and a part of you couldn't help but stare back. You couldn't tell if you were scared or just annoyed that someone was staring at you while you ate.

You decide to wave at him. A small gesture to break the ice. He smiled back at you.

You turned back to your food and finished your pizza rather quickly. The clown's smile wasn't necessarily a comforting one. You went to get up from your booth and couldn't. A small gasp left your mouth as you looked up. The clown stood in front of you, peering down as he blocked you from exiting. You hadn't even noticed him get up or walk over.

He put up his finger, gesturing for you to hold on. With a few dramatized miming motions, he reached into his bag and slowly pulled out a flower. He held up a singular rose, and you hesitantly took it.

"Um…thank you," you said quietly, smiling a little.

He tipped his hat and walked away, leaving the shop. It wouldn't be the last time you saw the mysterious clown.

Luigi Largo:

The repossession of organs was a regular occurrence in the city. By the year 2052, everyone's body seemed to begin to fail. Organ transplants and regular cosmetic surgery became the norm. Hell, even you had had a few organ transplants yourself to save yourself from an early death.

And with the new way of life, a new set of rules had to be made. Organs were now a rental property. If you didn't pay, they could be repossessed. You understood the rule, and you never missed a payment. Even when you didn't have the money, you still found a way to have the cash by the time payment was due.

You were good at keeping your payments, but you couldn't say the same about other people. When Gene-Co came knocking on your door months ago, you didn't know what to expect. It's not every day that Rotti Largo comes down to talk to civilians. You had seen him and his children on TV. His daughter was around your age. They lived a glamorous life, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to know that they were a mess.

Rotti offered you a job that day. He wanted to hire you as an assassin. There were fuzzy details about the current Repo-Man betraying his trust. He mentioned that it was good money and an easy way for you to pay off your organ payments. He even said that the company would give you grace periods to pay. Blah. Blah. Blah. Long story short, he wanted you to be his new "Repo-man".

At the time you weren't fond of the idea. Not many people lived through repossession. It essentially would kill a person each time. Also, really? The company that was paying you would just be getting the money back from you anyway. It didn't make much sense.

But that was months ago.

The past version of you would be absolutely disgusted with the present version of you.

Oh well.

Currently, you had your hand shoved into a man's chest. Normally you would have brought someone like this back to your home. It was much easier to cut the entire chest open to retrieve a heart. But you didn't have time for that right now. You were on the clock.

You had tracked this guy down as quickly as possible once you had realized you were late for drop-off. You had quickly stunned him, causing him to pass out.

And now he would never wake up because you were elbow-deep in his chest. You carefully pulled out the man's heart. You didn't care too much about properly cutting arteries. If Gene-Co didn't care about the condition of the heart then why should you? They just wanted to be able to cross a name off their list.

You placed the heart in a bag and then in your small ice cooler. Looking down at the guy you couldn't help but feel sorry. If only he had kept up with his payments. You started making your way down the streets.

You had on a respirator and tinted goggles. Not only did it help with keeping your identity sealed but it also helped protect you from the ungodly amount of pollution. The air was so thick with smog that it always looked like as if there was a haze of smoke in the air. You hadn't seen the stars in years. Just the cloudy light from the moon.

You remember your mom telling you what it was like when she was your age. She had been born in the early 2000s. She turned 18 around 2020. Your mom had grown up in a rural area, full of green fields and forests full of trees. You could tell that it made her sad.

None of that existed anymore.

Her home had been replaced with parking lots and skyscrapers. By the time she had you, she was 30, and there wasn't much grass left in America. Not many trees either. Most plants were grown in greenhouses now. They wouldn't survive the outside conditions. Now you were in your twenties, and you wished your mom had gotten pregnant sooner. You wished you hadn't had to grow up in a time where Earth had been wiped of nature and replaced with chaos.

As you walked down the sidewalk, you could see the glowing Gene-Co sign from down the street, looming over the city. It felt as if a giant eye was watching over you.

Although you worked for them, you didn't know much about the Largo family. You just knew what you saw on TV and the news. And based on what you heard, the family was nothing short of dysfunctional. You had never met any of them other than the patriarch, Rotti Largo. Your business was usually with Genterns and receptionists, not the Largo family.

You entered Gene-Co, pushing past the big glass doors. The building was an odd combination of a hospital and a business. On some floors, there would be operating rooms and Genterns. On other floors, offices and meeting rooms. You reached the front desk and looked at the blonde Gentern behind it.

God, you hated their uniforms.

The red visors and scrubs that looked like a mini dress bothered you for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that you always got a face full of their rear ends that irked you.

"Delivery," you said behind your mask.

She picked up her desk phone and pressed a couple of buttons.

"The repossession delivery is here," she said to the person on the other end of the line. She nodded her head and hung up the phone.

"You know where to go. They'll buzz you in," she said.

You walked away from the desk and made your way down the hall, entering a back room. It looked like a loading dock but was used for organ storage. And by the looks of it, very poor organ storage. The room wasn't even cold. No wonder people's organs were still useless after surgery.

As you walked past the shelves of unkept organs, you heard a group of voices arguing.

"What the hell?" you thought to yourself.

You knew it couldn't be Genterns arguing. These were two masculine voices.

You turned the corner of shelves and saw two men in suits arguing as Genterns looked on.

"You think you could run this company? Are you mad?"

"The only mad person here is you! God, look at you! You think that fake face looks good on you?"

You then realized who the men were. You recognized them from the news. The Largo brothers.

One had medium-length black hair and wore what appeared to be the face of a woman. The other man's shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a chest full of scars. In his hand was a knife. It took you a second to remember their names.

Pavi and Luigi.

"Ahem," you coughed.

Everyone turned to look at you as if you weren't supposed to be there.

"Ah, is this our new Repo-man," Pavi said.

"I've been working for this company for months. I'm not new. Here," you said, handing the heart-filled cooler to the closest Gentern.

"You're new to us," Luigi said, stepping closer as he buttoned up his shirt.

He circled around before stopping right in front of you.

"What's this for?" he said, tapping his knife on your respirator.

"To filter out pollution," you said. Honestly, what type of question was that?

"And these?" he asked, poking at your goggles. His fingerprint smudged the lenses, causing you to have to take them off and clean them.

"I wear them so I don't have to make eye contact with people. Thanks a lot for messing them up," you said, frustrated.

"You're welcome," Luigi said.

He walked away from you, going to stand back by his brother.

"Well, goodbye. I'm sure you have more repossessions to do," Pavi said, smiling.

You stuck out your hand, waiting for the Gentern to pay you.

"What do you want now?" Luigi asked.

"This is the part where a Gentern normally pays me," you said, annoyed.

"Oh, I got you covered this time," Luigi said, walking back over to you. He took out a wad of cash, and you could tell it was way more than your usual pay. You expected him to go through it, but he just sat all of the money in your hand.

"Wait, this is too muc-"

"Keep the change," Luigi said, winking at you.

Billy Lenz:

You slumped onto the couch as you listened to music. It was Christmas break, and the rest of the people in your (fraternity/sorority) had gone home to their families. Only you and a couple of the other members had decided to stay for the holidays. You were left alone in the house while the other members left to go to the bar.

The music played at a low volume and echoed throughout the house. You closed your eyes as you listened to it, droning off as you finally began to relax. The past few weeks had been stressful due to finals, but now all the tests were finally over. It was also the first time you had been alone in months. You could feel the weight of the tension leaving your body. It was a great feeling that you hadn't felt in a while. It wasn't often that you could just sit down and relax.

Just as you began to get comfortable, the house phone rang.

"Damn it," you mumbled to yourself.

You got up and walked into the foyer of the house, picking up the phone with a sigh.

"Hello?" you said. Instead of an answer, you were met with fuzzy garbling.

Strange noises came through the phone. Screams and whispers flooded through the phone.

"Hello?" you said, again, getting more frustrated.

"Billy...." a voice said, drawing out the syllables.

"There's no Billy here. You've got the wrong number?"

"What are you doing, Billy?" the voice whispered with a growl.

"You got the wrong number, man. Goodbye," you said, hanging up the phone.

"What the hell was that?" you thought.

You gritted your teeth as you went to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, you began to pour yourself something to drink. As you did so, you heard a creak upstairs. Your head shot up. You were on edge due to the strange phone call, but you decided to brush off the feeling. The (fraternity/sorority) was old and would sometimes creak in the middle of the night. You were sure that was all it was. Your nerves, plus the old house, were just not getting along.

You went back to the living room and turned up the music in an attempt to get back to your relaxed state. Right before you sat down, the phone rang again. You paused for a second, contemplating whether you should answer it.

You took a deep breath and made your way back into the foyer, picking up the phone slowly and bringing it up to your ear.

"Hello?" you said.

This time you could tell your voice was more frustrated. And your frustration got worse as you heard the caller on the other end. Once again, you were met with more grumbles, screams, moans, and whispers.

"Hey, man. I don't know who you are, but stop calling this number!" you said. You slammed the phone back down on the receiver.

Almost on cue, you heard a creak come from upstairs again. This time, you could hear it more clearly. It sounded like the floorboard creaking under the weight of someone's foot.

A shiver ran up your spine as you were suddenly struck with a dreadful feeling of fear.

"Who's there?" you called out. Maybe it was just one of the members of the (fraternity/sorority). Maybe they had come home from the bar while you were in the kitchen.

"Guys, are you home?" you asked. You hadn't moved from the foyer, too scared to even budge. Your eyes were glued to the stairs of the house.

Suddenly the phone rang again, causing you to jump at the sudden noise. You turned away from the stairs and brought your attention back to the phone.

"Look, man. You're really starting to piss me off," you said.

"What are you talking about, (Y/N)?" a familiar voice said on the other side of the line.

It was your mom.

"Jeez, I'm sorry mom. Hi, how are you?" you greeted, taking a sigh of relief.

"I'm fine. I could ask the same about you. Why'd you answer the phone like that?" she asked.

"The house has been getting some weird phone calls, and I'm the only one at home right now. I'm just a little scared is all," you explained.

"Have you called the police to see if they can track the number?"

"No, I don't think it's that serious," you answered.

"Well, please be safe. I was just calling to check up on you and tell you we miss you," she said.

"I miss you too. I'll see you guys once spring break rolls around," you said.

"Okay. And (Y/N)...." Your mom trailed off a bit.

"Yeah?"

"Please be safe," she said.

"I will. Bye, Mom. I love you."

You hung up the phone putting it back on the receiver. You turned back to the stares and let out a gasp. Your body was tackled to the ground and suddenly you were struggling to breathe. You looked up and saw a man with brown hair and a dark green sweater.

His hands were around your throat and your breath was becoming more and more restricted. You clawed at his hands and kicked your legs.

After missing a couple of times, your knee hit the man in the groin, causing him to loosen his grip. You then raised your legs, kicking him back with both of your feet. The man fell back, giving you enough time to get back on your feet. You quickly grabbed the heaviest thing around you which just so happened to be a weighted candlestick sitting on the foyer table.

The man stumbled back to his feet. You gripped the candlestick, just waiting for an excuse to use it.

"Who are you?" you asked.

He smirked, and his eyes glanced over at the house phone on the foyer table.

The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning. The mysterious caller was in the house standing right in front of you.

"Man, you got a lot of explaining to do."

Will Graham:

You tapped your fingers on the desk while you waited for Jack Crawford. The door to his office had been open, so you were sure he would return soon. On his desk sat a stack of folders and papers.

If you weren't in a professional setting, you might have not resisted the urge to snoop. But alas, this was your work setting, and you had a great level of respect for Jack. Your eyes pried away from the papers and looked elsewhere around the empty office.

Over the past month, you had been hospital-bound after a nearly fatal encounter with an active shooter. You were just a criminal investigator. And all though you had a firearm on you constantly, most of the time you didn't need it. Crime suspects rarely came back to the scene of the crime. But this one did, and he had pulled out his own gun before you had time to react.

You were shot four times and, you were lucky to be alive. After a grueling recovery phase, you thought it was about time you got back to work.

"I expected you to be home, (Y/N)," a voice said from behind you.

You turned around in your seat. Jack stood at the doorway of his office. There was a small smile on his face. You could tell he was happy to see you.

"I got tired resting in bed. I need some excitement, I guess," you said.

He walked into the office and sat down at his desk.

"Are you sure you're up for it? Your leave technically hasn't ended yet. You still have time to recover," he said.

You shook your head.

"I'm done with recovery. I might need some therapy, but other than that, I'm good," you said with a laugh.

"I can recommend you a good therapist," he said. He was partially joking, but he seemed sincere.

"I might have to take you up on that offer," you said, "So what have I missed? Got anything for me, boss?"

Jack's hand made its way to one of the folders on his desk. He slid it across to you.

The front tab was labeled 'Minnesota Shrike/Chesapeake Ripper'. You opened the folder up and started reading.

"We've been called out to Minnesota to investigate a series of murders. All of the victims so far are all teenage girls. As you can see most of them look rather similar," Jack began to explain.

You flipped through the contents of the folder, reading about each victim and examining their photos, mainly the ones that were taken post-mortem.

You wiggled out a picture from underneath a paperclip that had been taken at one of the crime scenes. A girl was sprawled out in the sun in what appeared to be a grassy field. She was nude. Her skin was very pale and had begun to turn greyish-blue. Right underneath her breasts were two apparent puncture wounds. And what was coming out of those wounds made you squint to make sure you weren't seeing things.

She had been impaled with deer antlers.

"What does this have to do with the Chesapeake Ripper?" you asked.

"There may be a possible connection. We have to search every lead," Jack said.

You nodded and continued to look through the folder.

"And what do you want me to do?" you asked.

"One, get ready to go to Minnesota. We just got the call about an hour ago that there's been another murder," Jack said.

"Really? Man, whoever this guy is he's resilient," you said.

"And two, do me a favor and take these down to Will Graham at the Academy."

Jack took the stack of papers and folders and sat them all down in front of you. You closed the folder you were looking at and put it on top.

"Who's Will Graham?" you questioned.

"Your new investigation partner," Jack said.

"Well, I guess I should meet him sooner than later," you said.

"I agree. I'll see you later, (L/N)," Jack said.

You got up from your seat and took the paperwork into your hands. You exited the office and made your way out of the FBI Crime Lab.

Instead of taking your car, you decided to walk to the academy. It was only a couple of minutes away, so the walk would be rather short.

The leaves on the trees had almost all turned dark shades of orange and yellow. Leaves fell on the sidewalk as you walked down the sidewalk. The changing color made you realize just exactly how much time had passed since the shooting. You remembered how the air had felt that day. It wasn't necessarily hot but it was warm. Warm enough to wear all you wanted to wear was a t-shirt and jeans. But now the air was crisp and cool. In a couple of weeks, the temperature would be in the freezing temperatures. Time had changed so quickly.

You approached the front doors of the FBI Academy and entered. You weren't sure where to go. You figured Will was a teacher but Jack hadn't mentioned what he would be teaching. Now that you thought of it, you had no idea what the man would even look like.

You walked down the hallways, peeking into the open doors. You weren't really sure where to even look. You heard faint talking and footsteps down another hall and decided to follow the sounds.

As you turned the corner you saw what you knew to be students based on their uniforms.

"Excuse me, guys. Do you know where I can find Will Graham?" you asked as you approached them.

"Oh, yeah. We just got out of his class. Down this hall, third door on the right," one of the girls said, pointing down the hall.

"Thank you so much," you said.

You walked down the quiet hallway and turned at the open lecture hall. It was a smaller class with a large projector. You saw who you assumed was Will Graham facing towards the projector, looking up and examining it.

You looked up and paused. It was the same picture from earlier. The girl was impaled by deer antlers.

"In all of my years as an agent, I've never seen anything quite like that," you said aloud.

The man jumped a bit at the sudden sound of your voice and turned around. He had wavy brown hair that cascaded around his head. His face dawned a good bit of short whiskers and he wore dark glasses that rested on his nose.

"Neither have I," he said, "May I help you?"

"Will Graham?" you questioned.

"Yes, and you are?"

"(Y/N) (L/N), Jack Crawford sent me," you said. You walked over to him and offered him a handshake, which he took without hesitation.

"Jack sent you. So you're not a student?" he asked.

"No, I'm an agent. I've been out on medical leave, but I just got back," you explained.

You handed him the pack of paperwork. He took it in his hands and sat it down.

"Welcome back," he said.

"Thank you."

"So what are your thoughts on...all of this?" Will questioned, gesturing up to the projector.

"I'm not sure yet. I guess I'll come up with a better opinion in a couple of hours. I'm coming with you and Jack to Minnesota," you said.

"Oh, you're going with us?" Will said.

"Mhm, it's time for me to get back out there in the field. I'm glad I won't have to do it alone. According to Jack, it sounds like we're partners now," you said.

"I guess so," he said with a small smile.

[sunny-ssunset]

Pretty in pink!

Yandere South park x Girly! F! Reader Headcanons

What kind of yandere they are!

Includes Kenny, Stan, Kyle, Wendy and Bebe

Masterlist

TAGLIST: @giyusdarling

♡Sorry if this is really scary you don't have to read it, its not important to pretty in pink as of now, just depth into the characters. AGED UP

TW: SLIGHT NSFW, panty stealing, mentions of m*sturbation and s*x, Perverted Kenny, Stalking, Mentions of zaza, Slight hints to Body horror/gore

Kenny!

♡Poor little Kenny.....

♡Such an unfortunate situation

♡Addict parents...

♡Little to no money...

♡I mean, He didn't really care though

♡He didn't care the minute he spoke to the Y/n L/n.

♡Before He met you, he thought you were hot.

♡But he didnt really care to much about you until you had your first conversation with him.

♡You complimented his 'beautiful ocean eyes' as you called them.

♡No one compliments him

♡To put it nicely he stinks and he cant afford new clothes

♡He didnt realise how kind you were

♡Or how pretty you were

♡He was in love instantly

♡No, He was obsessed.

♡Now. Kenny is the type of yandere to steal pretty much anything you had.

♡From used bottles and Applecores to.... Underwear

♡And you do not want to know what he does to that stuff....

♡You being the sweet angel you are let him stay around some nights

♡Sometimes with Karen, Sometimes without

♡He is so fucking obsessed.

♡He obviously needs to protect his precious Y/n....

♡So wherever Y/n walks, Kenny follows

♡Sometimes He'll take pictures of you without you knowing

♡He cant help it.... You look so beautiful when you bendover....

♡He has a shrine of you

♡Kenny is just so lucky to walk on the same planet Y/n does

Stan

♡Now, Stan doesnt believe in god.

♡But the minute he saw you, He prayed you'd talk to him one day

♡And your pretty little self did!

♡God you were so perfect

♡He tried turning Wendy into you

♡I mean if he cant have the real thing why not just force her to be you

♡Now Wendy is already trying hard to be you

♡So Stan had a headstart

♡But Wendy could never shape up to you

♡He was so obsessed with you to the point where the only thing that got him off was you

♡Once he was having s*x with Wendy, He accidentally moaned your name and got really embarrassed. little did he know Wendy was into it

♡He was very obvious about his crush on you, with out even knowing it

♡Plus you're THE Y/n L/n! You knew everyone was obsessed with you, and you knew how to use and abuse it!

♡So when you figured that Stan had like unlimited access to a certain dr*g you liked

♡You were all over him!

♡Hooking up in the janitors closet, Or his truck, pretty much anywhere you can

♡Stan loved you so much, He started making his own Y/n.

♡Only to fufill the time being, He's planned to capture the real thing soon!

♡Unlike Kenny, He'd ask outright for your stuff, using the excuse

♡"Y/n you should leave some of your clothes here, For when you stay over"

♡When you obliged, He'd put them on to he doll and try gaslight you into thinking you never left your clothes there

♡Stan doesnt think you'd take lightly to doll Y/n.

Kyle

♡I think Kyle's the most normal out of everyone here, but even he's still a Yandere soo

♡He thinks bacause he knew you first, He deserves to have you

♡Kyle gets extremely insecure, He knows alot of his friends have a 'crush' on you.

♡And He gets really fucking jealous

♡Like He takes it out on you, and gets into fights with his friends

♡He doesnt care how many people he has to get rid of to be with you

♡He is so fucking lucky you're so kind

♡You forgive him every fucking time he acts up

♡You are just so kind

♡Your both meant to be

♡So so kind

♡Y/n and Kyle forever

♡You help him when he gets mad

♡And you love his attention

♡He cant wait until he can take you for his own

♡I mean Kyle loved you before anybody else did

♡He loved you before anybody else did

♡He was the first and only person to see you for what you really are

♡A God.

Wendy

♡Wendy Testaburger.

♡Your best friend

♡She knew almost everything about you

♡I mean she thinks she does

♡She likes to believe she does

♡She also knows about everyone liking you

♡Everyone except maybe Stan, I mean Its not like she'd care if you liked him

♡But she'd hope you'd tell her

♡Wendy thinks you are perfection

♡You and her have been very close for a WHILE

♡She's helped you through your ups and downs

♡She loves the fact your comfortable enough to be some what indecent around her

♡Like once you asked her if your boobs looked weird, Wendy almost fainted

♡She wants to see more of you like that....

♡Wendy wants to know everything about your body

♡So she can try replicate it on herself

♡Mutilate her hips into the correct shape

♡She doesnt care how much it hurts

♡She wants to become you so fucking bad

♡She picks up every habit you have

♡Wendy is your shadow

Bebe

♡Bebe is your typical Yandere

♡She adores you

♡Y/n does no wrong in her eyes

♡She hates the fact Wendy is your best friend not her

♡Or how you flirt and cuddle Kenny so much

♡Why can't it be her?

♡She acts like the others do

♡But you treat her no different to how you did before

♡What will it take for you to love her!!!!

♡Until, the perfect oppurtunity came to light

♡You were hooking up with Stan.

♡If She told Wendy

♡Wendy would hate you

♡Leaving you all to Bebe

♡It was the perfect plan

♡Perfect

♡No more Wendy

♡Just Y/n and Bebe

♡Y/n and Bebe forever!!

♡Forever

♡And ever

♡Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever

f̧̨̛̗̗͎͉̦̾̊͒̂ͧ̉̌̇͆ͣ̌ͩ̅̂ͣ͊̀͠o̵̸̡̰͈͎̭̦̼̼̱̼̤͚̻͇̎̎̈̏͛̌̈ͬ̃̎͌̔ͫ͊ͯ̽́ͥͣͭ̎ͪͬ̕͞͝ͅr͎̩̤̠̺̯̈́ͣ͂̑ͦ̽ͧͧ̊͜͡ͅͅe_̵̟͔ͦ̒̀̈́͛̈́_̵͚̞̗̫̿̓́̾ͩͬ̓̇́̆͞v̨̼̦̪̼͎̟͑̄̍̃ͭ̃͛̾͒ͫͭ͝͠_̷͉̟̤͕͚̋ͭ̌͗͌̌͗̐̀͛͞͞ë̶̳͈͔̲ͪ͝͡͠ͅ��̵̷̧̢̘͓̺̩̞͎͍̻̾ͥ̑̎͒̓̒ͣ͘͜͝͞͡r̵̥̩̀ͫ̇ͧ͒ͤͮͩ͒͐͜͠_̢̪͖̱̾͆ͮ́̒ͤ͆͜͝

f̃o̷̶̱̩̳̹̭̓̀̆͒̅ͬ͘͡͡r̵ë̝ͪ_͔v̴̸̡̡̳̹̥̱̞̩̻̗̀͌͋̋̄̊ͮ͆̈́̒̋̑̀̏ͯ̀̚͜͢͟͜͡͝͠ͅe̵̢̢̧̝͙̰̜̯̼͇͓̜̙ͦ̉͒̆ͪ͗̈̐̾̈́̎ͪ͋ͨ̄̄̈́̔̆̐͗͊̓̊̕̕͟͟͝r̵̨̡̦͓̮̻͚̦̗͕͕̋̿̾̐̀̔̊̇͗̆̏̅̌̋ͧ̐ͮ̒͘͡͠ͅ

f̃o̷̶̱̩̳̹̭̓̀̆͒̅ͬ͘͡͡r̵ë̝ͪ_͔v̴̸̡̡̳̹̥̱̞̩̻̗̀͌͋̋̄̊ͮ͆̈́̒̋̑̀̏ͯ̀̚͜͢͟͜͡͝͠ͅe̵̢̢̧̝͙̰̜̯̼͇͓̜̙ͦ̉͒̆ͪ͗̈̐̾̈́̎ͪ͋ͨ̄̄̈́̔̆̐͗͊̓̊̕̕͟͟͝r̵̨̡̦͓̮̻͚̦̗͕͕̋̿̾̐̀̔̊̇͗̆̏̅̌̋ͧ̐ͮ̒͘͡͠ͅ

f̧̨̛̗̗͎͉̦̾̊͒̂ͧ̉̌̇͆ͣ̌ͩ̅̂ͣ͊̀͠o̵̸̡̰͈͎̭̦̼̼̱̼̤͚̻͇̎̎̈̏͛̌̈ͬ̃̎͌̔ͫ͊ͯ̽́ͥͣͭ̎ͪͬ̕͞͝ͅr͎̩̤̠̺̯̈́ͣ͂̑ͦ̽ͧͧ̊͜͡ͅͅe_̵̟͔ͦ̒̀̈́͛̈́_̵͚̞̗̫̿̓́̾ͩͬ̓̇́̆͞v̨̼̦̪̼͎̟͑̄̍̃ͭ̃͛̾͒ͫͭ͝͠_̷͉̟̤͕͚̋ͭ̌͗͌̌͗̐̀͛͞͞ȩ̶̵̵̷̢̳͈͔̲̘͓̺̩̞͎͍̻̈ͪ̾ͥ̑̎͒̓̒ͣ͘͜͝͡͠͝͞͡ͅr̵̥̩̀ͫ̇ͧ͒ͤͮͩ͒͐͜͠

Dividers by @k1ssyoursister

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

My siblings in Primus, holy fucking shit. I made an Optimus Height Chart. This took me.. SO LONG TO DO. Were y'all aware of how many Optimus designs there are?? Because I don't have all of them on this chart, and I still have TWENTY NINE (29, a 2 and a 9) out of the THIRTY SIX (36, a 3 and a 6) that exist. I didn't include the SEVEN (7) because either they were just a temporary upgraded form, or I already had multiple designs from that universe that were the same height and having all of them is redundant and repetitive.

40 fucking years and nearly as many distinct designs, I deserve a medal, honestly. Optimus has been in every single piece of media the Transformers franchise has ever made. Working on this in tandem with the Megatron one was a wild choice of mine, but I did it.

I included Optimus Primal on this chart. Both are named Optimus, I should not have to explain myself. Big Monkey and Big Truck are the same. No, your honour, I do not plead insanity; why do you ask?

Quick Disclaimer, if any of the images look weird, it's because I had to stitch a few separate images together to create a full body shot of the character.

Links to my Bumblebee Chart and my Megatron Chart. !!NEW!! -> Shockwave, Soundwave, Ratchet, and Ironhide. For future reference, all these charts will be filed under my "Transformers Height Charts" tag and my "aka the adventures of a..." tag. Hopefully, my bumblebee post is acting up and idk if the same issue will happen here.

Master Post

Explanations below the cut because I have fucking WORDS to say. This is gonna be a long one... 29 separate designs...

G1 Beast Wars V1 - ~9 Feet (Primal. Straight from TFWiki, converted to feet and rounded, the tiniest baby man gorilla)

G1 Beast Machines - ~8 Feet (Primal. The wiki failed me, but I found a old forum discussion where they made a chart comparing all the BW/M characters. Glorious stuff, I commend their effort.)

G1 Beast Wars V2 - ~10 Feet (Primal. TFWiki with the clutch, I will not always be this lucky.)

Earth Spark - ~15 Feet (Prime. No official numbers have been given, but I have already figured out how tall Bee is, and I was able to compare the two and get a good estimate. This is the shortest non-animal universe to date holy shit. Look at this, I'm showing my work

I am having a conniption they are so short)

RID 2001 - ~16 Feet (Prime. TFWiki once more, we love one source for everything)

Unicron Trilogy V2&3/ENG&CYB - ~16 Feet (Prime. For the uneducated, the Unicron Trilogy has given each of its 3 seasons separate names and 3 separate art styles. These are the designs used in Energon (S2) and Cybertron (S3). The Wiki had Cybertron's numbers but not Energon's, so for my own sanity, I decided the two were the same height. I could have done something in between Cybertron's and Armada's (S1) numbers, but there was a lot of float between the two)

G1 Beast Wars V3 - ~16 Feet (Primal/Optimal Optimus, this is the result of a fusion between Primal and Prime. The TFWiki says this design is like 40 feet tall, but if that is true, Rattrap, a character stated to be 1.8m or ~6f tall across several sources across several different languages, is actually not that tall. So I call bullshit, this guy is 2.6 Rattraps tall, making him around 16f or 4.9m tall. Checkmate, I win)

Prime Wars V1 - ~17 Feet (Primal. Slight spoilers for further into this chart but I decided that the Prime Wars Trilogy and the Netflix Cybertron Trilogy Optimuses were the same height as the Gen 1 design, because they're nearly identical. So comparing Primal to Prime, Primal comes up to about Prime's tits, bada bing bada boom)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~17 Feet (Primal. Identical explanation to above, don't want to repeat myself)

One V1 - ~17 Feet 10 inches (Prime. Okay, the Wiki says 32.534 feet, and I call Bullshit. A: These numbers are sourced from the Walmart Promotional AR Experience that came out before the movie. B: There are three decimal points, and that number does not convert into a whole number in meters (which is originally what I thought was weird about it). C: The director has said that this movie is both canon to the LA movies and its own separate canon. I already stated all of this in my Bumblebee chart post, and I will be dying on this hill. This is as short as we see OP in the movie, him at his tallest should match his KCV height, he's never taller than Megsy, so knock a couple feet off the biggest number and voila, my brain hurts)

One V2 - ~18 Feet 10 Inches (Prime. Same explanation as above, but taller than he was without his cog, because he got bigger)

Gen 1 - ~19 Feet (Prime. TFWiki has saved me the effort of figuring it out myself)

Prime Wars - ~19 Feet (Prime. As I said before, since this design is identical to Gen 1, it is the same height)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~19 Feet (Prime. I've said it twice now, identical, therefore same height)

Knight/Capel-Verse - ~19 Feet 4 inches (Primal. No Robot height given, I have his monkey form height from TFWiki, but comparing him to Optimus he's only a few inches shorter)

Prime Wars V2 - ~ 20 Feet (Primal. Compared to Prime, Prime comes up to about Primal's nose area, and we all know how tall I think this Prime is)

Animated - 20 Feet 6 Inches (Prime. This number actually comes from @phoenix-inanis and the glorious calculations they have done on the TFA Characters. Go check it out, because animated has literally no actual numbers -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4)

Knight/Capel-Verse - 20 feet 10 Inches (Prime. TFWiki has graced me with a number)

One V3 - ~20 Feet 10 Inches (Prime. If it's canon to KCV, then it's canon here. I've already told you my reasons)

Cyberverse - 21 Feet (Prime. Oh, shitty screenshot from a random Russian YouTube video; you treat me so well. I would adore a better scan of this if anyone has one)

Unicron Trilogy V1/ARM - 22 Feet 11 Inches (Prime. Technically, this number is for the Armada video game, which isn't exactly canon to the show. But I don't have any other numbers and my brain is tired, so CANON IT IS)

Aligned Cont. RID15 V1 - 25 Feet (Prime. I'm really proud of this one: I can already hear some of your questions. "But I thought his second form was as tall as his TFP V2 form, and this one was as tall as TFP V1," "but his V1 forms and V2 forms look like each other," You thought Wrong!! And I can Prove it!! Let's refresh ourselves on the height difference between TFP V1 Prime and Bee.

As we can see, Bee comes up to the top of Optimus's hips. Lovely. Now, let's look at RID15's height difference when Optimus first returns. Keep in mind that RID15 Bee and TFP Bee are the same height.

Look, Bee comes up to Optimus's chest in this form, not his hips. He comes up to a similar point on Bulkhead in the previous picture. Let's look at Prime's second form.

This is from the intro; yes, Bee is crouched, but look, if he stood straight he only comes up to about Prime's hips, JUST LIKE IN TFP!!! With this evidence, we can conclude that Prime's first RID15 form is similar in height to Bulkhead! I was so fucking excited to show y'all this, I was so proud of myself, I still am)

Bayverse V1 - 28 Feet (Prime. From the first 4 movies. Straight from TFWiki, because Mr. Michael Bay loves me)

Bayverse V2 - 29 Feet (Prime. Only in The Last Knight. Mr. Bay has lovingly kissed my forehead because he always gives me numbers for his movies)

Aligned Cont. WF/FOC/TFP V1/RID15 V2 - 30 Feet (Prime. TFWiki/Fandom/Me respectively. I love you, Video Game Info Screens. I am still pretty syced about figuring RID15 out, oh I feel so good. Almost makes me forget about how FREAKISHLY HUGE this universe is. And how the games concretely prove this fact)

Aligned Cont. TFP V2 - 35 Feet (Prime. Yes this number comes from Fandom, but this entire universe is monstrously huge for no reason, I believe it. Go look at my Bee chart for more in-depth and insane rant about how huge this universe is compared to other universes, it's at the end of the post)

Not Pictured: Aligned Cont. Rescue Bots and Rescue Bots Academy Optimus Prime - 30 Feet. (Yes, Optimus in the Aligned Continuity has 7 distinct designs across the whole thing. I am in physical pain. SEVEN?? ONE GUY?? SEVEN??), Bayverse Optimus Prime Power Up - 40 Feet. (It's an upgrade form that does not stick around, why should I include it), RID 2001 Super Mode - ~21 feet (Optimus can turn it on and off at will, it's just an upgrade mode), Unicron Trilogy Energon & Cybertron Optimus Prime Super Mode - ~20 Feet (Once more, upgrade mode, it's like stilts, you don't count something you don't always have on.)

29 pngs, holy shit I've done it. This took so long. If anyone has any suggestions for which transformer I should aggressively analyze next please tell me I don't know which ones to do next.

Here are the different layers separated, just so you can see all the many Optimuses (Optimusi?) clearly. I know my og chart is crowded, there's 29 pngs on there you don't think I noticed?

[kksverse]

Winters Touch

A/N: So I am not entirely sure about this work. I hate literally everything I create but please let me know if you like this and I will continue with this plotline!

I also have this posted on ao3

masterlist

Summary:

Soulmate AU where the name of your soulmate is seared into the skin above your heart when you first make eye contact with them.

Reader discovers that Bucky Barnes is her soulmate when he is the Winter Solider.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1393

Chapter 1 - Seared Names

You felt the sun shining down on you as you walked out onto the busy street. Working for a prestigious law firm in downtown D.C had its perks but getting out during peak traffic hour was not one of them. The street was bustling with many different characters all getting off of work from white collars to the barista from your local coffee shop. You watched as she smiled and jogged to a man across the street holding flowers and brightly smiling back at her, which you assumed to be her soulmate. 

It was rare for someone to be in a relationship with someone that wasn’t their soulmate. Whether it be their soulmate rejected them or they simply did not have one, which was even rarer. Your heart ached at the sight of the pair in front of you. 

At the age of 26, you were constantly met with worried looks from your family about the fact that you haven’t found your soulmate yet. As much as you try to console them that you’re fine it has been harder to ignore the aching pain and emptiness in your heart that you wake up to every day. You shook your head slightly to rid that thought as you passed the couple. You barely made it past the coffee shop when the world exploded.

Your ears were ringing so loud you couldn’t hear the gunshots around you but you felt them as they hit the street beside you. Gasping you threw yourself into the side of the car to protect yourself from the shower of bullets. Your heart was in your throat as you screwed your eyes shut bracing for the impact of one of the bullets that slammed into the car you were pressed into. Suddenly you heard the crashing of metal beside you, your head twisting so fast to the sound you didn’t have a chance to recognize the metal disc before it was picked up and thrown across the street nor the man who threw it. 

Your heart was beating so fast you were convinced that if a bullet wasn’t the cause of your death a heart attack would be. Suddenly the street was eerily silent as the rain of fire ceased. You slowly looked over the car to see what had happened. You saw two men standing still staring at each other, one dressed in typical street clothes while the other was dressed head to toe in combat gear with one arm completely made of metal. Your world stilled when he locked eyes with you. You felt a burning on your chest and your heart stopped. You knew what was now seared onto the skin above your heart. His name. Your soulmate. 

You watched as he completely stopped, knowing he could feel the same burn on his chest. His face softened as his eyes stayed glued onto your as the other man spoke to him. 

“Bucky, it's me” the man pleaded, desperation in his voice. 

Bucky, your soulmate’s name is Bucky

Reality slammed into you as you watched him turn his gaze to the man. His face hardened as he looked at him with no emotion in his eyes. 

“Who is Bucky?” he growled as he lifted up the gun towards the other man with you in his sight line. 

The other man turned towards you and ran to you holding up the metal disc in front of both of you to block the line of fire. You recognized the metal as the shield of Captain America, you barely had time to process the fact that the man shielding you from your soulmate was Steve Rogers. 

You braced yourself for the sound of the gunshots. You waited for a minute and were only met with a deafening silence. You waited as Steve looked above the shield for the sign of Bucky. You slowly stood up and were met with the sight of a deserted street. You let out a heavy breath as the shock of your soulmate being the one who did this. 

Nearby buildings were decimated, shattered glass lining the pavements. Bullet holes lined every car on the street and your heart shattered when you heard the groans of the injured behind you. 

“Are you alright Ma'am?” You heard Steve speak. 

You didn’t look up at him as your shaking fingers slowly unbutton your shirt to look at the skin below your collarbone. You heard a sharp gasp beside you as you uncovered the name now permanently seared onto your body. 

James Buchanan Barnes 

You looked up to find Steve staring at you with disbelief, his face heavy with emotion. You held back the choking sob stuck in your throat as he looked at you with pity in his eyes. 

“You’re his” he said breathlessly as his eyes switched quickly between the mark and your eyes like he didn’t know if you were actually in front of him. 

You swallowed uncomfortably as you buttoned up your shirt a tear rolling down your face. Quickly wiping your tears from your face you tried and failed at regaining your composure. 

“You’re Captain America” you said with a sad smile trying desperately to cut through the tension. Even more so trying to get him to stop looking at you like your world just shattered in front of you. 

He stifled a humorless laugh as he looked up at you, his shield resting causally at his side. 

“I am” he gave you a light smile watching you carefully like he didn’t know if you were going to break down crying any second. 

Pulling your hair out of your face and tucking the loose parts over your ears, trying to look somewhat presentable in front of the avenger. You could laugh at yourself for worrying about what you look like after a day like this. 

Steve reached out to lightly touch your arm. 

“Please, can we go somewhere and talk about this? I need to explain everything” his voice coated with the same desperation as when he talked to Bucky. Or James you suppose. 

You looked at him with a sad smile as you crouched down to gather your bag. 

“What is there to talk about? He didn’t want me” you spoke softly the words stabbing you as you said them. Your brain couldn’t even process the fact that your soulmate injured people and tried to kill you. But despite this you didn’t know if you could’ve left him like he left you. You hated yourself for it. 

“That wasn’t him. Please you have to believe me, that wasn't Bucky” Steve pleaded with you almost sounding like he was trying to convince himself as well. 

“When we were young all he ever talked about was you. He would constantly guess what you were doing right in that moment, what you looked like, if you would like dogs or cats more” Steve continued, his face lighting up with the memories that he and Bucky shared. 

You didn’t know you were crying until you felt the tears roll down your neck. 

“You were all he ever thought. He would never leave you. Please, just let me try to fix this” Steve grabbed your hand in his as he spoke. 

You were grounded in place at the thought of the man Steve described as your soulmate. As Bucky. That he ached for his soulmate as much as you longed for him. You felt like you could hardly breathe at the thought of a happy life with him. 

You silently nodded. Watching as Steve’s face softened with relief. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a flip phone and handed it to you as a gesture for your number. You bristled at the old technology as you typed in your number and handed it back to him. 

“Please call me for anything at all. Even if you just need someone to talk to” Steve spoke in a genuine almost pleading tone. You smiled softly at him clutching your bag to stop him from noticing how hard your hands were shaking.

“Thank you” you spoke softly 

Steve nodded and didn’t try to stop you as you walked past him on shaky legs. With him out of earsight, you let out a heavy sob. Your heavy heart and the name on your skin kept you company as you walked home.

[theoceansluvr]

Multi-Character x Nerd! Reader

warning; none except my endless yapping !! author's notes; *comically loud gulp* it's finals season so i decided to drop this before grinding my grades and whatnot😿 gave all the characters different random interests of mine sooo yay !

PERCY JACKSON- Flowers

i like to think percy is pretty neutral about flowers; not his favorite, but doesn't hate them

but when you stepped into the picture ? ALLLLL of that changed !

probably has a flower language book sitting on his bedside table just because of you to be totally fair

because of you, he buys really specific colors (or asks the Demeter cabin to grow him some) of flowers for you because of their meanings

for example, he ABSOLUTELY got you yellow tulips when he asked you out :3c

as much as he's a blue guy, he knows what they stand for (hopeless love) and thought it'd be sweet

sometimes you name a flower he knows NOTHING about like what on earth is an azalea ??

listens to you carefully regardless since he finds it cute how often you ramble about why orchids are associated with royalty

received flowers for the first time from you and he's kept them ever since, claims it's because he keeps forgetting to get rid of them but he's just a sap like that

very supportive of your interests and WILL stay up for hours to hear you talk !

ANNABETH CHASE- Astronomy

at first she thought you were talking about astrology and wasn't all that interested, but then she saw the massive amount of books you had on the stars and understood

dare i say she takes you on stargazing dates where you just point out all the constellations and all the stars we'll never see

has watched about 8 space documentaries in one week, and still isn't tired of it

also ! when ever she's drafting up home designs, she ALWAYS puts a room with a glass ceiling or balcony so you can put your telescope there

she swears it's just for the visuals but she not very good at hiding it(i love you sappy annabeth chase <9)

bought you one of those little star projectors when you guys moved into New Rome !

you guys also made paper lanterns of all the planets + pluto and hung them up on the ceiling since you rarely get to go out much one you go to college

speaking of pluto.. you guys didn't speak for three days over an argument over the basis of it being a planet or not. annabeth refuses to say it is because scientifically it's not, but you say it is because "emotionally it's a planet to me !" (real conversation i've had btw)

takes you to the planetarium whenever you guys have the spare time mainly just to see to get all animated over all the facts you've probably already told her

she absolutely adores you no matter how many times she's heard about all the dwarf planets..

CONNOR STOLL- Comics

deep in my heart he's a flash or spiderman nerd, so it's perfect !

safe to say, if you like anyone else, you guys might dispute who the best superhero is every other day- lovingly of course !

dates probably consist of walking around comic books shops and talking about your favs or reading them in your cabin

swapping off comics whenever you finish one so you can talk about them

has absolutely stolen merch for you on numerous occasions because he can he let the love of his life go without that batman mug ?

definitely makes up insane theories about what happens whenever his favorite character dies..

"no, no, no, he's gonna come back in the next one, trust me !" "con.. he literally blew up." "SO DID JASON TODD BUT HERE WE ARE"

dare i say y'all have matching spider man and gwen or batman and catwoman keychains ?

you probably got him really into young justice on accident because you mentioned him reminding you of wally west(PLS TELL ME SOMEONE SEES THE VISION-)

honestly, you guys are just nerd for nerd but he won't admit to it as easily

LEO VALDEZ- Sharks

scratch what i said about connor being nerd for nerd, you and leo are THE nerd for nerd couple !!

made you a wind up shark toy as a gift because he was bored, and it was basically a marriage proposal to you

has definitely fallen asleep to you talking about sharks before ! not out of boredom, just because he likes your voice

moving on ! y'all know those cardboard sharks people were making ? well, he made you a metal version of your favorite shark !

takes you to aquariums whenever he can, which is rare, but he thrives off of hearing you get excited.. like a kid in a candy store

he also has a crazy supply of gummy sharks in the bunker now for whenever you come over

he has also made you shark shaped string lights because why would he ever let you buy anything ?!

let's you cover his well, everything with shark stickers ! workbench ? sure ! festus ? might protests, but if festus like it, alright !

you told him he'd be a hammerhead shark, and he now has a keychain of one on his belt loop at all times

he rambles to you about mechanics, so in turn you talk about sharks; it's a win-win situation :3c

YAYYYYY PSOTING AGAIN AND IT'S ABOUT MY INTERESTS !!!! this was actually in the drafts for a minute and WAS supposed to drop saturday but i got impatient- love y'all and uhh see you after finals !

[meo-eiru]

Darling who comes from an influential family that in particular has a lot of history with Micah's church, having lavished it with many donations over the years to remain in its good favor while her family infamously skirted every other religious rite or virtue besides 'charity'

When they send her to his convent to be trained to take her vows, rumors spread around in bad faith denigrating her character, that she was so rowdy and un-ladylike that she forced even her parents' hands to get rid of her. Micah of course is above humoring gossip but with the eyes and ears all over the place that come with the title of being head priest, from what he could gather about her she was known to be be rather unremarkable

Her new presence does not do much to change this impression of her, but unfortunately the nuns do not get the memo. They are rather steadfast in their view that she's a spoiled princess who has never had to lift her finger before in her life, a conclusion they arrived at long before she did at the convent. They resolve to 'teach her a lesson', which began at first as mild hazing but soon devolved into elaborate abuse from the amount of chores, the dilipated room and bed she would get a meagre rest in, and the scanty food and clothes they provided for her. And though she never complained, the unwaveringly average amount of effort she mustered for the Herculean tasks they shelved for her and the overall lack of desperation for approval only gained more of their ire and distrust. Eventually Micah intervenes, wanting to ensure her safety and overall future at the convent

When Micah broaches her experience so far the convent, even in privacy she does not accuse the nuns of mistreatment, much less naming any in particular. Likewise in her confessions the sins she had divulged so far had been lacklustre, not even indulging in having an ear to moan off about her new life of modesty and self deprivation. Instead of being impressed by her general fortitude, Micah is once again struck by how plain she is

For some reason, she reminds him a lot of his younger self, the one which was still a blank state. He begins to wonder if that is why her family had dumped her off at the convent, maybe once having had high expectations for her like his own family did but never gaining the manipulative charm and holy grace that he would eventually adopt. It also slowly starts to stoke up old resentments in him. While he never had religious trauma in the flavor of debilitating shame of never being quite pure enough, knowing that he was basically groomed into his role as a priest put an edge of bitterness to the prestige he enjoyed. Even while fully using his status to have others wrapped around his finger, he resented the child that was once him, was still inside of him that without question accepted the path that others had set for his life. And sure, the unassuming life she had in front of her was also chosen by her family, but in his mind, he began to see it as the smoldering vestiges of a quiet rebellion she was unconscious of. Unknowingly, and perhaps undeservedly, Micah locks her aside in a part of his brain that she opened for the first time in many years

THIS WAS SO GOOD!!!!

I love how the obsession starts from him seeing himself in her, I would love to read a continuation!!

[beyond-the-raining-field]

I have some things to say.

to begin: Neil Gaiman sucks. I loved and looked up to the man because of his work, because I thought his writing was amazing and Good Omens helped me through the toughest time in my life. the recent news however, does change my opinion - as at should for EVERYBODY. I feel disappointed by the Good Omens fandom. I do not think making yourself the victim publicly is at all okay. The women are the victims. If it does turn out to be fake: that’s good. But it does not change the fact that the power imbalance was there and would have affected how the relationship worked from the beginning. No matter if it is fake, right now saying “but how will I enjoy ___” is not okay . I understand, I do. I love Good Omens and I will continue to love Good Omens because it is a piece of media that matters so much to me.

I admit I have gotten of point. To get back on track let me make it simple and clear: You can not say “believe the victim” then go on to say “but Neil Gaiman is a good person…”. He is not. Yes it is wonderful that he has supported queer and trans people but you, I have to say, are not a good person for saying it if it depends on who assaulted - ASSAULTED - someone. No, PEOPLE. Two GIRLS.

Neil Gaiman is not a good person.

You can separate the author and the work, I am doing that with Good Omens as I have done it in the past but you canNOT support and endorse HIM.

And to end it off, if it turns out to be false: good. But he met one of the girls when she was 18, and waited for her to be of age. That is not something good men do.

Believe the victims, it doesn’t matter that you looked up to him. He did something bad, horrible, tragic and disgusting, admit that and talk about it to bring awareness.

And I would like to add: It is hard - and nearly impossible - for me to let go of Good Omens and The Graveyard Book. The Graveyard Book is the only book my father read to me as a child that stuck with me and led to an obsession. The obsessions have died down. If you own his books and enjoy them you are not a bad person, his writing is good. If a book means a lot to you, you are not a bad person. You are only a bad person if you make excuses for him. His is a shitty human who is a good author. Fuck him, but you owning his books doesn’t make you a bad person. Just refrain from buying NEW work.

And if it does turn out to be false, yes it eases the entire fandom. He is still sketchy in my books because as far as I know he cannot prove he has not done anything and got with two very young woman as a much older man.

An updated opinion: Neil Gaiman most likely did it. The amount of tales from people who - as young women - met him and had horrible interactions or stories of friends of his employees. He, most likely, has always been a bad person who simply uses the themes he does to make himself seem like a good person. This is not ours to mourn, it’s ours to take action and keep characters you happen to love alive in yourself instead of something HE did. Or, get rid of your stock. Up to you. It’s 1 am and I am distraught by the news but I’m not denying anything because given every piece of proof to show that he most likely did it, denying it is a bad thing to do and is a horrible name for the fandom.

[love-is-patient]

I have religious trauma.

I was raised in a household where my dad wanted to be God, and so characterized Him in a way that left me constantly paranoid.

God was a judge, God was a debt collector, God was a hammer waiting to strike.

My mother was likewise delusional to a point. She used religion as a manner of control, manipulating my egotistical dad and our chaotic little world so she could feel better about herself.

I was abused in the church. I’ve been so many churches since childhood I can’t count them.

I was told I was possessed because I was a child with adhd and couldn’t sit still in a pew. I was told that if I didn’t see visions or speak in tongues, I wasn’t saved. I was told that I must be thinking about God at all times or I wasn’t good enough. That I was lukewarm, unlovable, unworthy.

I was too afraid to take communion. I cried and turned away from the altar multiple times because I was a too dirty to touch the offering.

I was told so many awful things that I grew up with a persistent religious paranoia on top of my already anxiety inducing life.

So… why am I still a Christian, after all of that?

Stockholm syndrome, right?

It would be easy to write it off as that, but I did turn away from religion. In the back of my mind. I stayed cautious in case God was still watching.

It wasn’t until I got rid of the destructive influences in my life that things changed.

My perception of God changed when I left the awful people using His name in vain- or for personal gain.

When I grew up, learned to be discerning about the character of people.

Many people live under the assumption that I did- that God is a tyrant who is waiting for you to mess up so he can smash you and send you to hell. Paradoxically, that almost makes Satan sound preferable.

But that’s not who God is, and he doesn’t want people to go to hell.

Even if you haven’t had good parents, you’ve seen what they’re like. They get excited to share experiences with their children. The first taste of lemon, the first puddles to splash in. First words, first laughs, first steps.

God wanted that for us.

Satan got jealous after his rebellion in heaven. He saw God had something good and wanted it for himself again - even if it was just to spite God.

He offered humanity a choice and we took it.

We can debate why it happened until we’re blue in the face, but what matters most are God’s decisions afterwards.

Everything that has happened since the fall has been God trying to bring his wayward children back without force.

Just like when you see that friend of yours making the same bad decisions day after day, and you know their quality of life would improve if they just stopped. It’s heartbreaking, frustrating. You can give them all the advice in the world but they’ll just keep on doing the thing and complain to you about every headache afterwards.

Now you know a little what God feels like.

Only God is a little more patient than we tend to be.

God doesn’t ask much from us, not as much as people, which is weird to think about.

God doesn’t measure your worth by how good you are at your job, how badly you do in school. He doesn’t equate your value to how rich or poor you are, he doesn’t judge you the same way people do.

The first thing he asks of you is to love him and love each other.

He loves us so much that he opened heaven again if we ask for it.

He came down as flesh and blood in Jesus and took all the punishments we should’ve had. In Jesus death and resurrection, we have a way home.

All he wants for us to do is acknowledge that.

He doesn’t hate you if you can’t pay tithe. He doesn’t talk behind your back if you make a mistake. He doesn’t demean, debase, abuse.

Why am I still a Christian?

Because God was there for me when people weren’t.

God didn’t abuse me as a kid, people did, and used God as a shield.

God didn’t lie to me, call me names, break my things - my parents did.

God didn’t order me to do unbelievable things in order to reach him - my pastors and teachers did.

God didn’t tell me I’m unworthy - people did.

Even if you don’t believe in God, if you’re angry at him, feeling hurt and betrayed.

Maybe take a closer look and see if it’s really the people around you making you miserable, instead of an untouchable, invisible hammer.

[bonefall]

how much of Stormpaw’s demon are Maple’s curse vs just things that happen (cause in canon it’s really vague about whether Maple causes all those tragedies or has the ability to see his future for some reason)

EVERYTHING that happens in Stormpaw's Demon involves her. It's not being so dramatically renamed for nothing, she's a major driver and cause of the plot! Crookedstar's young name is in the title; but really, his demon is driving the misfortune.

That said... It's been a while and I'm heavily considering retooling the narrative.

Since I last REALLY worked on it, BB has changed in the sense that I'm a lot more willing to alter canon than I used to be. While my driving mindset used to be "telling a better version of the original story," and that IS a value I still hold... I've lost patience with the misogyny within the original work.

I've spoken at length about the way Crookedstar's Promise grinds my gears (PLEASE follow this link for a full breakdown of why), but in summary; it desperately tries to keep every male character likeable when they shouldn't be, saying nothing about the fact they are complicit in or even enabling abuse, while giving Crookedstar TWO flatly evil maternal figures. Even Brambleberry, who's heavily praised for being "like a mom instead," has a weird moment where she starts giving Crookedjaw the cold shoulder because she finds out he's chatting with a demon.

So like... I'm not sure if I want to make the "better version" of that story. That was the one that I already had, which had Mapleshade be acting entirely out of just the malice of wanting to hurt a child, while Hailstar and Shellheart are the excellent people canon wanted to see them as.

(not that it's even a BAD super edition, it's actually a really good one, but if it's my kitchen that's not what we cook here. Man I really do always massively overhaul my favorite SEs LMAO)

I think, specifically, I want to make Mapleshade slightly more morally gray and Hailstar more of an enabler. Shellheart is getting significantly retooled to make him more of the heartwarming parental figure I think he should be; someone loving to help balance out a very heavy rework.

And of course Brambleberry, I'm going to tweak her some. Try to make her flaws more consistent, get rid of that odd cold shoulder moment.

Old regulars will remember an old AU which is also still a massive favorite of mine; it was called Better Call Mapleshade, and it was kind of a commentary on how an environment can shape a person. Mapleshade, as a demon in heaven, was essentially their best prosecutor and defense attorney.

You can actually see how a lot of ideas from that AU ended up in Better Bones with the expanded trial system! I'm thinking of taking another page out of it, by making Mapleshade more aware of "the game" of Clan culture's structural unfairness, while also using it like a weapon against people she wants to hurt. A powerful demon of revenge.

Under the cut, what won't be changing, the way it was, and Draft 2 of Stormpaw's Demon.

(MASSIVE CONTENT WARNING FOR MENTAL AND PHYSICAL CHILD ABUSE including ableism. BB!Rainflower is WORSE than canon.)

WHAT WON'T BE CHANGING;

These are major details of Stormpaw's Demon that are different from canon. I'm working with these as givens and won't be changing between drafts.

Mapleshade does have a bone to pick with Appledusk's lineage specifically. One option might make her more discerning when it comes to her targets, but no matter what, she is going to have her eyes on this bloodline. She Haunts Applekin.

Rainflower is Hailstar's deputy. And I will make her downfall spectacular. If you were worried I was going to make her more sympathetic then you have no idea who I am LMAO

Shellheart is not Crookedstar's biofather While I want Hailstar to maybe be worse; I do want to fix Shellheart by making him a good parent. I've decided a good way to do this is to make it that Shellheart adopts Storm AFTER he's been abused by Rainflower. He didn't have authority over him before then. In general, I do want him to have a bigger positive role in this narrative. DEPENDING ON WHICH VERSION: Oakheart might also not be his bio-brother.

Crookedjaw is not a cruel name; it's an Honor Title. I've ALWAYS been frustrated by how canon treats scars and injuries as bad things. It's a BATTLE culture. Surviving brushes with death is their WHOLE THING. There is no "crookedkit" or "crookedpaw," he was Stormpaw until he earned his warrior name, with "Crookedjaw" commending the massive lengths he's gone to in order to survive, adapt, and honor StarClan.

Mentor change: Goodbye Cedarpelt, hello Magpiesky! I decided to repurpose one of the Barn Cats! Magpie from the books is a daughter of Perchshine-- the cat who killed Mapleshade. She joined RiverClan long ago. She's actually the one who points him in the way of the barn, and has to train him "as a punishment for teaching him disobedience" when he comes back. I actually have a couple of minor reasons for making this change but I'll spare them for now. He might start with Cedarpelt, but then run to the barn when Cedarpelt is basically refusing to train him properly.

Some family tree shuffles I need to update this tree to show Crookedstar's new situation with Shellheart (and also reflect some other changes I made like confirming Hallowflight fully being Lizardtail's honor title and Robinpaw being the apprentice who gets eaten by Ripwater), BUT, overall this tree is solid.

The ableism Storm faces is going to have a different flavor I have built BB in a way where him surviving his injury would be very respected, but he'd get badly coddled and pushed into early retirement. Him running to the barn is because he suspects he wouldn't have gotten training otherwise.

He kills a fox there because it's Cool. I might give him the tail to wear as a trophy of the kill because that's also Cool. The fox was very old and feeble at that point, which was why it was attacking chickens, but shhh

The Way It Was (Very Evil Mapleshade)

Darkstar's Commandment creating the Queen's Rights, that no queen would ever have to reveal the other parent of their kittens, wasn't enough to appease Mapleshade.

Nor was the damning of everyone that Mapleshade killed. In a fit of irrational fury at all the death, StarClan sent all her victims into the Dark Forest.

But she can't chase them. In the Dark Forest, you don't see someone unless you WANT to see them, not unless you're hanging out in a "land mar" (a sort of personal hell that all demons get).

on the off-chance she does see them, Frecklewish usually rips her to shreds...

Which is the next problem.

You can't DIE in the Dark Forest if you're a demon. You poof back into existence the next day, no injuries, no scars, nothing.

she's bored.

And vengeful. In spite of the wrong being righted, she still thinks she deserves MORE revenge, because what she wanted was really Appledusk.

She finds it unfair that HER legacy is snuffed out, that it's Darkstar's Commandment and not hers, that her babies were destined for greatness and by extension SHE should have been great.

So she takes up a hobby in tormenting Appledusk's descendants. She wants to eradicate them completely, but is spiteful enough that she'll just settle with hurting them.

The first one she managed to kill was Applefrost, Reedshine's son. Just by accident. She didn't know she had such power over the mortal plane.

After that, she managed to drown Duskwater. The daughter.

But she couldn't wipe out HER daughter in that storm... and she brought two more Applekin children into the world.

Stormkit and Oakkit.

So, naturally, Mapleshade turned her sight on the little fuzzball.

He would be an easy kill, in theory. She smashed Stormkit's jaw on the rock, but Oakkit pulled him out.

From there, it's similar to canon for a bit. His recovery is long and painful.

Rainflower is disgusted, and wants absolutely no part of helping him through this process.

That wasn't an injury gained in battle-- it's because he's careless and didn't listen to her. He's going through all this suffering, and for what?

To never become a warrior?

She's cruel to him, begins to neglect and distance herself from him. Discourages him from suckling.

Mapleshade LOVES this. It's worse than she could have imagined. Rainflower is horrible.

Gleefully, she realizes that Stormkit dying now is what Rainflower wants.

So, she kills two other kits in the nursery.

Fallowtail's only survivor is Willowkit, so she has plenty of milk. She starts suckling Stormkit.

(Graypool is now an older sibling! She's actually an apprentice at this time! Later, she encourages Willowkit to visit their father, who decides to just kidnap them completely)

Eventually, being the deputy, Rainflower had some kind of conversation with Hailstar.

During that conversation, she asked him to do something very cruel to Crookedkit.

And Hailstar LOST IT

He's the successor of Volestar, who was appointed by Darkstar herself to uphold the Queen's Rights and protect children.

How DARE you try to turn RiverClan into a place of disrespect?? To use my power this way?!

So, her power was stripped, and Oakkit and Stormkit were taken from her.

From there, Storm eventually goes to the barn as discussed, and Mapleshade continues to do things to hurt him.

This was my first draft, and now having thought about it a lot, I feel like it's not super cohesive. A demonic Mapleshade who's entirely malicious is neat, but I feel like this makes her flat. Shellheart's not tied in super well either, and Hailstar's stand feels kind of hollow because Rainflower hasn't actually used or leveraged the new authority I've given her.

But most egregiously? Rainflower's abuse being so close to canon tastes kind of bland. I feel like I can make it sooo much more intense, complicated, and painful.

Draft 2 of Stormpaw's Demon (Demon of Revenge Update) Essentially an outline for the first few chapters establishing Mapleshade by dealing with Rainflower and then fragments for the rest.

Mapleshade's still malicious, but this time, there's more to it.

Darkstar's Commandment, and the damning of her victims, DID appease this Mapleshade.

But is she satisfied? No.

She doesn't feel like she was wrong at all, actually. Without her killing those three in revenge for her kittens, StarClan's anger probably would have subsided.

She can't hunt her victims down again though, because, they don't want to see her. She fights Frecklewish every now and then but what's the point?

She WON already. She already GOT the euphoria of dragging them all down with her.

Punishing everyone who had ever wronged her was the highlight of her existence... but now it's done.

She's in Hell and she's bored. Her punishment is never seeing her kits again, but more importantly, her punishment is eternal shuffling through the leaf litter when she's SO GOOD at getting revenge.

Problem with revenge is, when you get it, it's gone.

She probably messed with Duskwater and Applefrost a bit, but if she killed one of them, it was accidental. It made her realize that revenge without a motive is just boring.

The prologue would probably open up with establishing her as a character. Who she is, what she wants.

Because the first chapter would dive RIGHT IN to Stormkit. The only child of Rainflower, the deputy.

Right along with Stormkit, you only learn in hindsight that he was born in a storm that killed his grandmother. It's clear that Rainflower reminds him of this often.

And that she's nasty to him. Giving him unclear instruction and finding things to critique, telling him to jump and then barking at him that he didn't ask how high.

She has great expectations for him, and reminds him of their family lineage often. Of who killed his great-grandfather, of what a fantastic pair of warriors Applefrost and Duskwater were

"I lost everything the night you were born. You'd better be able to make up for it."

Unfortunately, Stormkit is not the sort of child who's good at listening to those sorts of orders. He's stubborn and defiant; angry and oppositional.

When he doesn't understand why you do something, he doesn't want to do it

He "embarrasses" her a lot, and gets hurt for it.

In public, these are swats and whacks. The things you're "allowed" to do to discipline your child. In private these are a lot more severe.

So when Stormkit is given an order or a command, he obeys completely out of fear rather than respect. And sometimes he forgets his fear.

The other cats in RiverClan? Well... Stormkit is a problem child, and Rainflower is a fantastic, organized, respected deputy.

Hailstar especially, unfortunately. He feels bad... for Rainflower.

"It must be so hard for her to have such a little brat as a son. He never seems to learn his lesson. When will he stop wandering off? What's wrong with him? He certainly didn't get that from her."

His best friend, Oakkit, gets in the SAME trouble he does.

He's mischievous, fearless, and outgoing, and... never gets punished for it.

There's times where Oakkit does something and Stormkit physically recoils, just imagining what Rainflower would do if HE did something like that. Especially in how Oakkit talks to his dad, Shellheart.

For example, Shellheart will come to get his son for suckling time and Oakkit will tell him to his face things like, "I don't want to! I'm HAVING FUN!"

and shellheart doesn't flip out. He just. explains why it's important to eat on time.

"I know. But Fallowtail wants to go have fun too! She's waiting for you to come and suckle so she can go play."

"Well why can't she just play now and I suckle later?"

"When a suckler is full of milk, it makes their belly very itchy. She's uncomfortable when you don't come and eat on time."

"nnnh"

"Tough sell? How about I sweeten the pile with a badger ride back?"

"Hm. You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Dad."

Stormkit doesn't know why he hates it. He's all angry inside when he sees them acting friendly. He's polite because Oakkit's his best friend and Mr. Shellheart is really nice, but he just...

He's too young at the time to know he's envious. He wants what Oakkit has so badly it hurts.

Sometime after an exchange like that, Stormkit is visited by Mapleshade for the first time.

And they talk about Stormkit's anger and resentment. Stormkit lets it slip that he HATES his Mi.

Waits for Mapleshade to stop him and tell him, like everyone else does, that "she's still your mother."

...but she doesn't.

Besides Oakkit and Shellheart, she's the first person who doesn't tell him that.

She just lets him talk. Lets him go on. Starts making nasty jabs, which make him laugh.

"She says she lost everything the day I was born!!"

"What?! That's crazy! She got you that day!"

"Right?! It's like she's saying I'm nothing! Maybe she SHOULD lose everything, then she'd know what she's got!"

And then she asks, "Do you want her to die?"

Suddenly, there's a chill in the air. He's really shocked by the suggestion of that. He didn't... he didn't mean it to go THAT far. That's not what he meant... is it?

But she's fading back into the shadows, just her eyes visible in the dark. Tells him that she can see he's unsure. That's ok.

Holds up a budding sprig of sycamore, the maple she's named for. Its buds grow in a "deer hoof," with one large bud in the middle and two "toes" sprouting on its sides.

Teaches him that if he needs someone in his corner, all he has to do is call.

(to summon her, a bud is plucked off the sprig and thrown in the river.)

He wakes up with the sprig in his paw, panics, and shoves it under the nest he shares with his mother.

The experience shakes him. He probably ran to Brambleberry for the first time, who explains very seriously that he was contacted by a demon.

From the description... Mapleshade. The cat who killed his great-grandfather.

He BEGS her not to tell Rainflower. PLEADS with her. He can barely hear her already saying yes under the throbbing sound of his heart in his ears.

When he calms down, he hears her saying yes. On the condition she will need to smoke the nursery with sage and cedar, and that he will be needing a bath as well.

When he's still concerned that Rainflower will question him, she makes a plan to distract her for a day, long enough for him to do his cleanse and the smell to fade.

And, of course, that he will not follow any instructions that Mapleshade left him. He agrees. But does not tell Brambleberry about the sprig.

For a while he's very "well behaved." But it's not about him, never has been.

It really doesn't take long at all for Rainflower to get worse. Kids who are defiant like that are usually exercising a defense mechanism-- if they're not aggressive about their boundaries, their limits are pushed to a breaking point.

And after a big blowout like this, which was probably a public spectacle, Stormkit runs back to his nest and digs out the sprig, runs to the river, and throws a bud in the river.

Having calmed down from his shuddering fury, the dread begins to set in as a dead-smelling wind ruffles his fur. He can't help but feel like he just did something very stupid out of anger.

Looking at his reflection, he sees no cuts or swelling. The blows weren't "bad enough." He doesn't have the kind of injuries that anyone would do anything about. Equal parts guilt and frustration swell in him like a tide at full moon. How could he be sitting here wishing she hurt him worse?

So he tries to soften it, "I don't want her to die, I just, I... I just want her to lose everything like she says. Please..."

The wind whispers in his ear, "it will get worse before it gets better."

"I can handle that," he sobs, "I can do anything. Please. Make it stop."

After that, Oakkit probably runs to come find him. Stormkit doesn't want to be found. He makes up a childish plan, on the spot, to run away and join ThunderClan.

Oak says that's mousebrained, but Storm has DEVOTED himself to this plan he made just now.

And is crossing the stones.

Oak sighs, but if Storm's going to ThunderClan, he should really go with him because then they could totally fight off a small fox (Childish hubris)

Unfortunately, Rainflower found them. asks Exactly What He's Doing.

The kids freeze. Stormkit in particular has that horrible, twisting anxiety that you get when you hear The Tone that means you're in for an absolute wallop when you get home.

He's about to start running, but then the voice tickles his ear-fur again. Mapleshade tells him to go back. It'll be ok. She's on his side. She'll make her pay.

Oakkit is still frozen in place when, as if possessed, Storm's body stiffly returns to his mother.

There's a silence. The river trickling through the stepping stones. Storm looking with fear and anger up at her.

She's waiting for an apology, groveling. He doesn't give her one.

So she raises her paw and gives him an awful, hard blow.

His little body twists, flung off balance, trying to correct himself, and he can swear he felt paws pushing him a second time, whipping him downwards.

The feeling of falling fills his stomach, the water sloshes into his ears before there's a ring of a sound like CLUNK-CRUNCH, and then the river floods his nose and mouth.

It all goes dark.

When he wakes up, it's with a throbbing pain in the side of his jaw so intense that he can feel it all the way down in the tip of his tail. He learns from Brambleberry that Oakkit rescued him-- jumped right into the water to pull him out. And then Rainflower pulled him out. That was when Shellheart came and found them.

There's a LOT of arguing outside, but Storm can't ask what it is because it hurts to move his mouth at all. Brambleberry hushes and soothes him, telling him it's nothing he needs to know about.

(MEDICAL INFODUMPING: i do actually have a medical reason I want his injury to come from someone hitting him which causes him to fall. The injury he'd get in canon would actually be a really simple and common split in the front of the mandible, which wouldn't cause his mouth to have a dramatic twist and would heal very easily. He needs to come down on the rock at an angle to shatter the joint like that.)

From here, the tune about Stormkit starts to change.

Oakkit was distraught when they got back, telling everyone that Rainflower smashed him against a rock.

Rainflower's story is that he was running, and she chased after him. EVERYONE knows that he has a habit of doing this.

Then HE slipped and fell and hit his face on the rocks. His fault.

Oakkit was running away with him, he's lying.

Shellheart is FEROCIOUSLY taking the side of his son, furious that she would imply he raised a liar.

Hailstar is taking the side of Rainflower. It's two troublemaking kits against his deputy.

Yes, Rainflower's disciplined him before, but that's no indication she'd do something like this on purpose.

Brambleberry weighs in that the injury that Stormkit has isn't the sort of injury a kitten gets from hitting his jaw. The bone is shattered.

probably does some kind of visual to go along with it, using a stick and a stone

"The bones of a kitten are like the young shoots of a tree. When they fracture," she takes a young twig and snaps it in her paws. The fibers in the center are bent but unbroken, with the bark splintered around them, "they flay but don't snap."

She places the stick on the ground, "So for the injury that Stormkit has," and violently smashes the rock down onto it. It's shattered and pulped, the fibers flattened, "there would need to be a great force."

Shellheart hisses, saying that THIS is the evidence. Oakkit's story is consistent but Rainflower HAS to have lied.

Several cats are now on his side.

...But more are on Rainflower's.

"She's his mother. She loves him. Oakkit has to be mistaken."

"Why would she chase down her own son just to smash his face on a stone?"

"She wouldn't pull them out of the river if she really wanted to hurt him!"

Hailstar prompts if there's ANYTHING else that could explain this?

It comes up that Brambleberry cleansed the dens the other day.

She says that it's possible there is a demon's influence at work. She can't know for sure which one it is-- but it may have a grudge against Rainflower.

She allows them to reach the conclusion that it's probably Mapleshade on their own. She will be talking to Crookedkit when he's able, but she's not about to tell anyone about his dream yet.

She doesn't want him to have the extra scrutiny when he needs to rest and heal, but if she'd shared that an unnamed cat had a demonic dream, it would set off panic as cats accused each other of dark magic.

Rainflower manages to escape consequences by pointing out that it was likely Mapleshade that injured her son.

Oakkit is still trying to tell everyone SHE did it, he SAW it, Stormkit walked back and she hit him and smashed his jaw on the rock

But he's hushed. It's decided there's not enough evidence. And not enough reason to doubt the noble deputy.

She's never done something like this before, after all. It's more likely it was an accident.

There is a group of cats that are dissatisfied about this, though, and it only grows when Brambleberry explains that Stormkit's prognosis is not good.

There is a very high chance he will die. Even adult warriors can wither slowly from this sort of injury.

Recovery will be slow and it will be painful.

...but after that incident? Rainflower gets bolder. She got away with it in public. She got a taste of the leverage she has, how much they trust her.

Stormkit spends a lot of time floating in between his dreams and his living-world pain. There's at least one interaction where he speaks to Mapleshade, screaming at her that he TRUSTED her, he KNOWS she's the one who hurt him! How could she?!

She can't say much, kept at bay by a hazy smokescreen of sage. "You must live! You must survive!"

Her old words echo in his head; It Will Get Worse Before It Gets Better.

Throughout the recovery, Rainflower grows more cruel and more distant.

In public she likes to talk about how difficult this is for her, but he's strong, he will survive.

In private, she'll do things that hurt him, like repositioning his head in a way that "his jaw will heal better in." When he cries, she's unsympathetic.

"You brought this on yourself. This is for your own good."

Her definition of "private" is also changing. She's getting more comfortable with snapping at him in front of limited groups of people.

Since she's deputy, the other two parents in the nursery, Shellheart and Fallowtail, do their best to care for Stormkit while she's away. He's pulled away from them when she gets back, any ideas or suggestions they have vetoed.

When they try to go to Brambleberry about this, she shakes her head with frustration and tries to make them understand she knows... and she's just as unhappy with it as they are.

She tells them she keeps going to Hailstar, but he's still hesitant. Even though she's trying to tell him that Stormkit's recovery is being undermined.

"Rainflower's son has always needed tough love. She's his Mi and knows him best... she's still taking care of him. Give her a warning before suggesting anything drastic."

In the other draft, I had Mapleshade kill two of Fallowtail's kits to free up milk for Stormkit. I'm not sure I need that anymore honestly, plus, this rework's heavy enough! She can just have Willowkit without any deaths, while Graypaw remains an older sibling.

When Brambleberry informs Rainflower and Stormkit that the jaw isn't healing straight and it will probably be at an angle forever, Rainflower reacts with disdain.

"His first scar and it's nothing he earned?!"

She's reminded he might not even survive. He's lost weight. He's eating less. Stormkit curls up quietly. He hates how they talk about him like he can't hear them.

"Surviving is the bare minimum," she scoffs reflexively. There's a silence so thick you can cut it with a claw. After an uncomfortable heartbeat, she continues, "What kind of a life will he live if he-"

"a life," Brambleberry cuts in, "he'd live a life. And it can be a good one"

Rainflower growls, spitting that the twisted jaw is a disfigurement. He'll never be able to open his mouth all the way. He can't chew and he can't suckle forever. Stormkit will never become a warrior if he can't even dispatch a fish with a killing bite.

"Scars are the sign that StarClan has mended our bodies after fighting a good fight, making any Clanborn cat worthy of being an elder" Brambleberry preaches, "Names are what mark us, calling upon our ancestors to look down at us and witness our actions, Rainflower. Don't say anything you wouldn't want them to see."

Rainflower flicks her ear, seething, a rumble in her throat, "was that some kind of threat? As if I've said something wrong?"

"If you feel threatened, look within."

Stormkit resents all of this talk. He can feel his mother tensing up next to him, hears the low rumble progressing into a growl. When adults play stupid games with his mom, he's always the one who ends up dealing it. Why don't they get that?

It's only Shellheart who seems to have it click, "Hey, this is the nursery. Can you take it outside, please?"

As Brambleberry and Rainflower leave, Stormkit lays curled up in his nest, cold and alone. Oakkit leaves Shellheart's paws to curl up around his best friend.

Shellheart stares at them, shifting, but ultimately stays where he is.

There's a lot of words I could write there, between Storm and Oak. Ones where Storm speaks about how he just wants the pain to be done with. Others where Oak comforts him, tells him how much he means to him. More where they end up running into the wall that they're just two little kids and they've both learned the truth that they have no control over what happens when Rainflower comes back into that den.

But I think it would be good to end there, at the lowest point. Because it gets better.

Pissed off by being gently confronted, after her warning from Brambleberry, this is the moment where Rainflower goes too far.

Hailstar is gradually losing his patience. Every time this issue comes up, he's making some kind of new excuse for her.

She's still a competent deputy who holds the Clan together, but this has taken a toll on her reputation.

Her biggest mistake was becoming more open with her abuse after being emboldened. And I think Hailstar is beginning to feel like he's got "egg on his face."

After standing up for Rainflower several times, getting heat from Brambleberry, and now the Clan also starting to murmur...

It's getting very difficult to justify why he's sticking his neck out.

and maybe, part of him is starting to feel a little self-conscious about the way that his deputy is acting about her injured child.

When she comes storming up on this fateful day, interrupting whatever he was doing to make a proposition, it's the breaking point.

Her suggestion: "I've realized that there's only one way to ensure my son survives his injury. He's being haunted by our demon, which only started threatening him when he disobeyed me for the last time. WE need to teach him a lesson, and make sure StarClan gazes down upon him to acknowledge his mistakes."

"...how do you intend to do that?"

"Stormkit must be given a Dishonor Title."

A Dishonor Title, one of the greatest shames that a leader can put onto one of their warriors. A punishment that ranks just below exile in terms of severity.

"you want to put a dishonor title... on your child? one with a life-threatening injury?"

"One that acknowledges his carelessness. To protect him from the demon."

Protect him from the demon. "I see now what must be done."

Previously, I'd thought of Hailstar as someone who would be loud and merciless when he does this. Now I'm thinking it was something he put a lot of thought into. He stands up, brushes past her, and goes to talk to some of his most trusted cats. Brambleberry, his mate Echomist, an experienced warrior such as Piketooth or Ottersplash, and lastly, Shellheart.

So it's not a surprise to anyone but Rainflower herself. He doesn't want this to be dramatic. He doesn't want it to be another big scene. Stormkit has gone through enough.

When he eventually has this Clan meeting, he calls it quietly. In his address to the gathered cats, a crowd that Shellheart and his family are missing from at his request, he says that his greatest regret is that he didn't do this sooner. He even doubts that Mapleshade is haunting her at all-- now having seen her behavior, he says it's more likely that Rainflower bashed her own child against a rock and simply lied.

First, he announces that Stormkit will be removed from her care. He will no longer be of the Applekin bloodline.

She is banned from the nursery at the request of Fallowtail, and will only see Stormkit when supervised by his new Mi, Shellheart.

Brambleberry has already agreed to this necessity, and is performing a ritual so that StarClan may approve of this choice.

He also strips her of her deputyship, and appoints Ottersplash instead. (I might change this to a different deputy eventually)

Not everyone agrees with Hailstar. There's an uproar from Rainflower's supporters.

She was a VERY popular deputy.

More that are just uneasy, feeling that this was a BRUTAL punishment that she didn't deserve.

Lots are happy and optimistic, though. But the mixed reception is exactly why Hailstar asked Shellheart not to be here.

This isn't something Stormkit has to deal with right now.

When Darkstar herself, who created the Queen's Rights, was on her last life, she appointed Volestar to uphold the law as her legacy knowing that Oakstar might try to break it again.

Volestar appointed Hailstar, in the hopes that he would uphold her legacy in turn, to protect kittens and those who can't protect themselves.

He was late, and can only hope he was not too late. He hopes that Volestar can forgive him for that.

Meanwhile in the nursery, Shellheart, Oakkit, and Stormkit are alone, far in the back, where the padded moss keeps out arguing voices.

Oakkit, bless his little heart, is babbling with excitement because his best friend is his BROTHER now. And it's gonna be THE BEST.

He's talking about how it's fine he can't chew because now they can have soup, and they're going to make the nest bigger, and they can stay up later because they can whisper quieter if they're this close together

But Storm doesn't really hear him. His head's swimming, thinking about the dull ache in his jaw, how MAD his mom's going to be because he can't imagine her not finding a way to hurt him, how this is all his fault because he called Mapleshade.

He can't stop it anymore and starts sniffling, which turns into weeping. Still, he's TRYING not to bawl, knowing, knowing he looks stupid when he does that

Shellheart just pulls him in close, so he can bury his face in his fluffy chest. Tells him it's going to be ok. He's safe now. No one can hurt him there.

Not on his watch.

Unfortunately, it's not the last he sees of Mapleshade. After this...

Mapleshade shows him everything she did for him. Yes, she did smash his jaw-- but it was to get him away from his mother.

And she planted an idea here and there, just little whispers into Rainflower's ear. Nothing she wouldn't do all on her own.

And now... Mapleshade believes she's earned some respect.

Stormkit can't disagree... she did exactly what she told him she'd do.

And now that he's not Applekin anymore, they can be Real Friends. They could even strike up a partnership, of sorts. After all, what did StarClan do to help him?

It wasn't StarClan that answered his prayers.

I'm still figuring out what, exactly, she's going to want from him. I have a scintilla that she wants to give him a life, maybe as some kind of bridge to StarClan to see her kits?

Some strange "attempt" at redemption, perhaps? Which she ultimately doesn't get.

Not that she didn't enjoy doing all that for love of the game, mind you. She's very good at getting revenge and it's fun and exciting to pull it off.

But hey, if you're good at something, never do it for free.

What causes Mapleshade to ultimately turn, and begin haunting the bloodline again + Oakheart, is Crookedstar rejecting her in some way.

She comes to collect on her end of the bargain and he refuses, breaking their partnership. He chooses StarClan.

And then from there, it's ON again. Now she has another EXCUSE to do what she wanted to do, and take out her boredom and malice on his family.

This time, it includes Oakheart as well-- because he was Crookedstar's brother.

It was also her curse that harmed Willowbreeze and eventually Silverstream. She's on the warpath.

Maybe she actually helped make him leader on purpose. Like he explicitly asked so she helped him by making the squirrel omen, instead of just doing it for him unprompted. Still figuring it out.

Shortly after the scene where Stormkit cries, he needs to have a confrontation with Brambleberry about Mapleshade I think. She needs to explain why Dark Forest demons are seen as bad.

She's biased, of course, but it's not like she's TOTALLY wrong either. Cats like Mapleshade ARE vengeful, in ways many other spirits are not.

If you're curious, Crookedstar's dishonor title from Rainflower would have been something comparing him to a parasite and referencing his ""accident"" like Fleaskip or Midgefall.

The point she's trying to make with the Dishonor Title is that her son is an annoying bug who didn't listen, as well as subtly erase she fact she knocked him off that rock.

She wanted his name to say "everything that happened was my fault and my mom did nothing wrong"

Not that Hailstar got as far as even asking lmao

[jayktoralldaylong]

You know who they did the dirtiest in Arcane? Apart from Vander that is.

The answer is Mel. My baby girl lost her two boyfriends and I'm tired of pretending like I'm okay about it.

She gave everything to their dream.

"She wanted to use them." YES! At first! At first she thought they were a great investment. Then she came to love them with more sincerity and more care than many other relationships in the show. Sure some of the toxic things she'd learnt from her home tended to seep into the relationship, but she did everything she could to prune that away.

She loved them. She poured everything into their dream. Everything into helping Jayce get rid of Heimerdinger when he wanted to ban the research that could help Viktor, everything to help them both vote for peace and make the council decision unanimous. Everything to get back to them, after getting kidnapped! 🥺 After going through every version of hell, she immediately gravitated to where she would find them, 😭 find the only loves that had ever accepted her without necessarily demanding anything in return.

And Riot just took that away. And I'm tired of acting like I'm okay with it.

I'm tired of everyone saying Mel deserves better than Jayce and Viktor, tired of people shipping her with people she's never met (especially when the aim is just to give her someone who is not Jayce or Viktor), I'm tired of the strong independent black woman stereotype following Mel around when it's the LAST thing that she wants when she only just learnt to be soft with Jayce and open with her heart once again. I am tired of people calling her a manipulator as if her character arc ended there, as if she did not unlearn toxic love and traded it for the gentle bond she then had with her two favourite scientists.

I'm tired of people not acknowledging that she had to leave Piltover, not just because the Medarda family needed her, but also because her boys were gone. The family she had finally made for herself, the family she was willing to abandon her family name for. They're gone and I don't think Riot will ever be kind enough to give them back to her.

Everyone else, even Ekko sort of has a family to fall back to. Mel has successfully lost everyone. The fact that Lest is the closest person to Mel left says way too much about how awful this whole situation is.

And I am TIRED, I am so sick and TIRED, of people acting like she did not love Jayce and Viktor. I am so sick and tired of people acting like Jayce did not love her. It probably hurt him too to leave her behind.

The tragedy of them is that Jayce knew Mel still had the chance to refind her feet, but Viktor had only ever had Jayce, and Jayce would NEVER leave Viktor alone. And it hurts that Mel probably wished she could have gone with them, because now she has to start everything from scratch and barely anyone in the fandom acknowledges that side of her pain and I HATE IT!

(Jayce might have been created for Viktor in League Lore, but Mel was created for Jayce. 🥺😭 Mel was created to love Jayce and they took her baby away.) #HappyHare(Mel)WhereHaveYouBuriedAllYourChildren?TellMeSoISay😭

[cenorii]

Headcanons about Oldsker

I drew him quite a lot, so I managed to form an opinion about him. Yes, officially Oldsker exists only in our heads, but that doesn't stop us from coming up with something about him. Who is he? Read here.

— Of course, my main hedcanon is his appearance:

— I think Oldsker is the perfect version of Wesker, the final stage of his personal evolution. It's not only the result of his personal growth, but also the result of Capcom's labors to make a complete and final version of the character that will include all the notes and previous games, creating a coherent image out of all the vast information there is about him.

— Having limited himself all his life, Wesker was able to go all out after the volcano. Now that he wasn't bound by the confines of Spencer's upbringing, nor held back by the fulfillment of his dreams, he felt free. Now he was like a child who had been told by his parents to "do whatever you want." Wesker, who had never used foul language before, might start doing it. Wesker, who previously didn't drink and despised bad habits, might try them. Long hair and a different clothing style? He's just getting started. He's free and will probe that feeling in absolutely everything. Acting like a silly joker on the street? Easy. Create the image of the urban lunatic around him as a disguise? Oh yes, he likes that. He's free and his name no longer constrains him, because he'll change it too.

— I think Wesker got tired of having the same hairstyle for 50 years, styling his hair every morning, and so on. And he's already 61. Feeling completely free, like a teenager craving self-expression, he will grow his hair out and not care about styling at all. The only thing he will do with his hair is wash it. He doesn't even need a blow dryer anymore, just a towel, because now he loves himself any way he can. And he no longer needs to be "perfect" to like himself.

— He hasn't gotten rid of the habit of wearing sunglasses, but he really needs it to fit in with society. His eyes still tend to glow with emotion, and basically have an unconventional look. It's unlikely that colored contact lenses can override something so unusual.

— He doesn't forget about Chris. For Chris, Wesker's "death" means a lot, thanks to this event Chris realized that his fight was worth the lives saved. But for Wesker, this event is also very important. He has revised absolutely his entire life, changing the way he approaches it.

— Chris is his obsession. Wesker admires him, hates him, loves him, despises him, loves him, and so it is every day… every day is his struggle with feelings he is not familiar with, but tries to understand. Wesker has become free of any restraints, but the walls that were erected around his feelings still stand. And that's why he's such a noob in feelings, he doesn't know what he's feeling or how to describe it. That's why his relationship with Chris is so confused… He created Chris clones for some new purpose, but the purpose is just an excuse for his real attitude towards Chris.

— He continues to pursue his hobby and creates various weapons and names them after himself, paying homage to his "past life". Thanks to "Albert Wesker" he realized what he wanted out of life, and because of him he became the man he is today.

— I like the name Michael Baxter from this theory. I think that even though it's a weird nickname, it would be a great fit for Oldsker instead of his past name that was given to him by Umbrella and Spencer. He'd obviously want to stop being associated with "Wesker" because it's a dirty and disgusting project. But would he want to stop being Albert? Perhaps the name is too catchy and would expose his whole new image. So he would want to change his name completely, renouncing his past self.

— Oldsker hasn't changed, he's just become liberated and free. Perhaps there are scars on his body that have not been healed by regeneration, due to his powers becoming weaker.

— He probably knows Karl Heisenberg. It's unlikely to be any kind of close acquaintance, but they could very well turn out to be conversation partners by correspondence. Karl could be telling Oldsker about Miranda's plans, and Oldsker could be chattering unrestrainedly about Chris and his plans for him.

— Perhaps freedom would turn his head a little and he'd look for himself in completely unexpected directions. How about…writing a novel? Can this Wesker write NSFW about him and Chris? 😳

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU // Chapter 1 / Next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Reader (You) Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), descriptions of burning, depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. For years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because you feel like something halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t wash the smell of hospital out of clothes, not really. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Scott’s new-found abilities and the murky world they’ve been dragged into is making it pretty damn hard to keep his promise. 

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real and old family skeletons rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive? 

Maybe, the real question is how long will they want to? Chapter Summary: After your annual interrogation with Sheriff Stilinski, you meet his son who turns out to be very handy with jumper cables and incoherent babbling.

A/N: Does this look familiar? It should lmao. I gave into the peer pressure. All the messages and requests were too powerful. Here is a reader version of my ofc season 1 fic. Obviously some things have been removed to get rid of specific names/descriptions, so you want to read the full thing you can read the og version and check me out on ao3 (dork_knight)! For the sake of not clogging tags, I'll probably just do my reader version on tumblr and the full oc lore version on ao3 from now on. xx

Some say the world will end in fire. Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire.

Before your mother’s death, you would have picked fire. Every single time. 

You never liked the cold; never really had to get used to it growing up in central California—but the crux of your argument, the twisted logic behind it all, was that most burn victims died from suffocation before they felt the flames. A small mercy, really, in the face of unspeakable tragedy. 

In the end, however, statistics were just numbers, your mother didn't die from smoke inhalation, and there was no mercy in burying a parent before you were old enough to have children of your own. Nothing ever ended poetically off the page. Death was just death, and it was always ugly. Someone should really tell that to Robert Frost, you mused, biting at a raw hangnail.

The medical examiner said the actual cause of death was pulmonary edema; at least, that was his best guess based on the state of the body. He didn’t say that she felt everything, her skin peeling back into her flesh, her flesh liquefying into fuel, her joints flexing into contorted pleas until the fire incinerated her last nerve ending. He didn’t have to; you connected those dots all on your own. You’d been twelve at the time, not an imbecile. 

“I’m sorry to drag you through this all again.”

You flitted your eyes away from the flickering lightbulb above Sheriff Stilinski’s head and met his gaze; it was nauseatingly sympathetic. Your responding shrug was a small, little thing—more like a twitch in practice, “Not your fault.” 

Your yearly visits to Sheriff Stilinski’s office were solely your father’s doing, even if no one wanted to admit it to your face. Most mayors would use their political power to get their child out of a police station, not into it, but perhaps he stopped being your dad somewhere between the funeral and now. 

“If you could start—”

“From the beginning,” you smoothed your thumb in small circles over the armrest of your chair, attentively tracing patterns into the polished wood, “I know.” This was, after all, the fourth anniversary of your first interrogation. You’d become somewhat of an expert at being a useless witness. You picked at your uneven cuticles before continuing, “Mom put me to bed around 10:00—which was kind of late for a school night, honestly, but she let me stay up to finish another chapter anyway.” The right corner of your mouth twitched for a brief moment, “Nancy Drew: Password to Larkspur Lane. I told her that forcing someone to go to sleep in the middle of a mystery was specifically forbidden in Geneva Protocol II.” Your mom had been far too indulgent of your lip on most occasions, but that night she didn’t smile at your snarky aside. She let you finish the chapter because she was too tired to argue; you could tell. At the time, you saw it as a victory. Now, it kept you up at night, the drooping lines of your mother’s mouth spilling over the pages of whatever book you were trying to read.

You bit down on your tongue when a stray splinter snagged against the soft pad of your thumb, “Dad was out of town, so it was just the two of us. Mom always put me to bed when Dad was gone; said it was the only way she could get to sleep. Had to make sure my window was locked.” You paused for a long moment: everything went dark after this. Your mother kissed the top of your head, murmured, ‘Love you,’ turned out the light, and then that was it. You woke up in the hospital, and your mom was dead. 

A bead of sweat dripped onto your top lip. The air in the Beacon Hills police station was, without fail, sticky with heat and body odor—and it wasn’t just the oppressive Californian sun. Even in the winter, a person could choke on the stifling warmth. Idly, you wondered if it was a matter of interrogatory tactics or budgetary constraints. 

“And then,” Sheriff Stilinski prompted gently, though you both knew how the story went from here. You had told it to him and a dozen other officials at least a hundred times in the last four years. 

You bit down on your thumbnail and winced when your teeth snagged on the tender nail bed, “And then nothing. I opened my eyes, and a nurse said that you found me on the front lawn.” 

“You don’t remember how you got outside?” 

You shook your head, staring past the Sheriff's shoulder. Large pieces of dust floated through the air, highlighted by the slivers of light trickling through the blinds. Suddenly, you had a newfound appreciation for the lack of fans in the room. 

Sheriff Stilinski cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over his jaw, “You don’t remember saying it was an angel?”

Blinking slowly, you looked at the grim line of the Sheriff’s mouth and gripped your knees tightly, digging your fingers into fragile skin until your wrist cracked, “I should, right? I was twelve. I should remember something—that’s what everyone thinks. That’s what my dad thinks.” Your eyelids fluttered to a tight close, and your voice went so quiet you could barely be heard over the hum of the copier outside the door, “He thinks it was me. That’s why he makes you question me every year.” Copper flooded your mouth as the soft lining of your cheek split under the brunt of your teeth, “He thinks you’ll finally figure out how I did it.” 

You were scared to open your eyes as the silence stretched between the two of you. You’d danced around the subject before, hinted and spun around the heart of it, but you’d never truly discussed how it looked from the outside. Sheriff Stilinski had been kind enough to give you a few different excuses over the years: trauma, head injury, oxygen deprivation, just plain ol’ grief—but whatever caused your temporary amnesia wasn’t so conveniently explained. In fact, currently, you had no explanation at all. When you finally peeked through your lashes, clumped together with frustrated tears, you couldn’t quite figure out what expression the Sheriff was making. He leaned back in his desk chair and frowned, “I’m sure he doesn’t—”

“He does,” you cut him off. Your eyes went flinty, irises darkening to something far more ashen with the resolve of your anger. You never had any trouble reading your father’s face; the disgust was thinly-veiled between the flickers of fear. 

Sheriff Stilinksi leaned forward so that you had no choice but to look him in the eyes. They were kind—more tired than usual, but still kind. They always were. That was one thing you remembered from that day, waking up in the hospital to Sheriff Stilinski’s kind, watery blue eyes, just before the entire world fell apart. His voice was gentle, but firm, when he finally spoke, “I don’t.” 

You nodded numbly and pulled at a fraying string on the hem of your denim skirt until the thread snapped. 

“I mean it, kid. They couldn’t identify the source of the fire. They couldn’t even find an origin point; no twelve-year-old could pull that off.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Could anyone?”

Sheriff Stilinski’s brow furrowed, and his mouth screwed up into a crooked line, like he was chewing on his words and deciding if he should swallow them or spit them out. “I wish I had all the answers for you. I really do. Not knowing, it’s worse than any truth.”

You blinked up at him for a moment, once again taken aback by his raw sincerity, and swallowed hard. He wasn’t the one who was supposed to have the answers; he was the one who was supposed to ask the questions. There was one failure in his muggy office, and it wasn’t the Sheriff. “It’s okay,” you said quietly. “Not your fault.”

He looked like he wanted to argue the point, but whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by the sharp ringing of the phone on his desk. “I have to take this, but if you remember something, or if you just need to talk—”

“My dad spends a small fortune on a psychiatrist and a behavioral therapist for that,” you stood up quickly, shouldering your bag. You forced the corners of your mouth into a small smile, tight at the edges like a sheet that had been stretched too thin, “But thank you. For everything.” 

The Sheriff’s gaze darted to a framed photo on his desk. You had seen it before, on one of your many visits to his office. It was of a boy—his son, you assumed—he looked like he was around five or six at the time. He was grinning, wide enough to show off his missing incisors, and his fingers and wrist were stained cotton-candy blue from a melting popsicle. You must’ve been that happy once, right? In the beginning, everyone was unencumbered by the weight of imminent mortality. Maybe that’s what Sheriff Stilinski was thinking, too. He looked away from the photo and gave you a small smile, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

You gave a half-hearted wave before wrapping your fingers around the strap of your backpack and walking to the parking lot. 

Outside, the sky was grim, a mocking reflection of the dour expression on your face. The spite in your eyes hardened when big, fat raindrops splattered against the apples of your cheeks. For a moment, you just stood there, glaring at the rain and cursing the cosmos for their utterly unamusing sense of humor.

A jeep pulled into the parking lot, and the squealing engine startled you back into reality. The search for your car keys was, of course, a considerable endeavor. Nothing could be easy. Not here. Not today. Not ever, you thought. A bit melodramatic maybe, but the weather was certainly ripe for a bit of self-pity.

You stacked your textbooks and binders onto the hood of your sedan, haphazardly throwing your jacket on top of the pile to protect your painstakingly penned Kafka essay from the rain. By the time your fingertips brushed against the cool metal of your car keys, your hair was damp and curling at the ends. 

The momentary relief was short-lived when you pressed the unlock button five times and the accompanying beep didn’t sound, not even once. For an absurdly long minute, all you could do was rest your forehead against the driver’s side window, breathing heavily until condensation gathered next to your mouth and the drizzle speckled dots onto the sleeves of your thin cotton shirt.

“If you’re trying to charge the battery through osmosis, it’d probably be more effective to smash your head against the hood.”

You jumped, and then flinched again when your keys clattered against the ground. You caught a glimpse of the phantom speaker in the side-view mirror; bizarrely, he looked just as surprised as you felt. You turned around, trepidatiously—objects may be closer than they appear n’all—and tried to swallow your rapidly rising heart. 

“Sorry,” the boy pulled the hood of his sweatshirt down and had the decency to look contrite, “big mouth.” He rubbed a hand over his chapped lips. “It’s a real problem. It’s so big, actually, that my foot just slides right in there like…all the time,” he gestured animatedly with a flat hand, a quick sliding motion, like a fish through water.

You blinked at him, slowly, and bent down to reach for your keys, “Might wanna see someone about that. Sounds unsanitary.”

“Eh, it’s hardly the worst thing I’ve put in my mouth,” he said, eyes widening into horrified round circles the second he stopped talking. A faint flush creeped up his neck to his ears, and your heart dropped back into your chest. Slashers and ax murderers didn’t blush. Probably. You hadn’t ever met one, but it seemed like sound logic.

“Choking hazard,” you hummed, leaning back against your car. Your fingers traced a small dent in the door, the cause long forgotten, “It’s definitely still a choking hazard.”

The boy grinned before fixing his expression into something on the cusp of severity, “I’m about 95.7% sure that anything bigger than a fist is completely mouth-safe.” He held up his fist and nodded sharply, “Make that 98.3% sure.”

“98.3?” your brow arched.

“Maybe even 98.9.” 

The buzz of a lamp post hummed above your heads as you stared at each other with little smirks until the quiet made you sink your teeth into your bottom lip and big-mouth drum his fingers against his forearm. 

“So,” his sneakers squeaked against the slick asphalt as he shifted his weight, “you need a jump?”

You pursed your lips and ran your eyes over the front of your car, “I might give osmosis another shot. 30 seconds is hardly a fair trial.”

“Of course,” he hummed, “you gotta be fair.”

“We are in front of a police station.”

“Well,” he scratched his cheek, “it’s not a courthouse.”

“Technicality.” You were slightly horrified when you finally noticed that you were smiling. The sensation felt like it had escaped straight out of the uncanny valley and latched onto your face like a parasite in need of a host. It only took two weeks for muscles to atrophy; years must have completely decimated the fibers in your cheeks. “I guess I could use a jump. If your offer was an offer and not a hypothetical.” 

“Smart choice.” The boy rapped his knuckles against the hood of your car and said, “Steel’s probably pretty low on the permeability scale.”

“As opposed to a skull.”

He snorted and then nodded towards the large lump of books and papers covered by your freshly dampened jean jacket, “You should probably move your stuff. Y’know, ‘cause of the very un-permeable battery.”

“There’s that,” you sighed and started stuffing your things back into your backpack, shaking it violently until your notebook finally slid past your chemistry textbook, “and flunking English isn’t high on my list of things to do this weekend.”

His gaze flickered back and forth, rapidly cataloging every corner and crevice of your face. You tilted your head, brows pinched, and stared back at him with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. His eyes, you noticed, became a peculiar shade of brown in the yellow glow of the setting sun and the fluorescent light of the lamppost. More like honey, you realized, more like honey than irises. Something finally clicked behind them. "You,” he pointed aggressively, “you go to Beacon Hills.”

You pushed his finger away from your face with your own, “Safe bet, considering there’s exactly one option for the next 2,000 square miles.”

“You’re kind of a smartass, you know that,” he muttered. He struggled with the trunk of the jeep parked next to your car, cursing under his breath until he finally wrenched it open with an almost guttural grunt.

Your lips parted briefly, and then you grinned drolly. It was refreshing, not being treated like some fragile little creature who would buckle in the knees—or possibly set something on fire—at the slightest confrontation. “Kind of?”

“Total.” He nodded decisively before sticking his head and torso into the depths of his trunk. “Completely, entirely, and wholly a smartass.” There were various clanging sounds until he re-emerged with a pair of jumper cables, “Never noticed that in class. You don’t really…say anything.”

You bit back the snark poised on the tip of your tongue. When people looked at you, the only thing they saw was the worst thing that had ever happened to you. You were the daughter of the woman who burned to death on Cedar Street; your mom died, and you were there. It seemed like that was all you would ever be in Beacon Hills. 

In the grand scheme of things, it was better to be no one. 

High school had been your chance to slip into social obscurity—more kids, more drama, less discussion of homicide by arson—so you took it, wholeheartedly. You kept to the corners of classrooms, away from extracurriculars, and your mouth resolutely shut. 

“I try to exclusively bring the smart and leave the ass at home,” you finally replied.

The boy’s eyes drifted downwards for a moment, and his voice did a funny, squeaky thing when he said, “I should give that a go sometime.”

“10/10 would recommend. No one bugs you—and teachers never throw erasers at your face.”

“So you do remember me,” he grinned a little and rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt before unlatching the jeep’s hood and propping it open.

Slanting your head, you watched his profile. There were moles scattered across his cheek and neck, and his angular jaw clenched as he struggled with the knotted cords in his willowy fingers. “Vaguely,” you said faintly. It was coming back to you in pieces. That was life after twelve for you: bits and pieces. Everything was made up of the disquieting moments when you surfaced from the haze and into the present. It should’ve felt like a lungful of air, but it didn’t. It always felt like choking. 

He wiped his grease-smudged hand on his jeans and then extended it towards you, “Stiles.”

You took his hand, despite the strange formality, and shook it—mainly because of the black streaks staining his pants. “Y/N.”

His fingers twitched a few times when he connected the clamp to the coordinating battery terminal, and your eyes widened. You held your breath in your sternum until you registered that he hadn’t been electrocuted. He was just naturally tweaky, you concluded. It was either that, or he had jumped one-too-many engines in the last 24 hours…unless it was hidden option C, and he was actually tweaking. Unlikely, given he was on his way into a building teeming with cops, but far stranger things had happened in Beacon Hills.  

You sighed a little as you listened to the rain patter against the asphalt and the roof of your car, rubbing your palms over your arms until the goosebumps prickling along your biceps receded into your skin. Stiles looked back at you again, and his mouth wormed its way into a little frown. His head disappeared into his trunk, and after a moment a lumpy maroon mass hurtled towards your face. You caught it before it could smack into your nose, and you clutched at the soft material until you realized that the projectile missile was actually just a sweatshirt. 

Stiles was staring at you when you looked up from your hands. A small, unsure…something squirmed over his face, and you felt a little stupid, just standing there, hoodie limp in your arms. It happened a lot—more than it should after so many years. The invisible quicksand materialized in the strangest, most insignificant moments. You blinked, completely brainless, at simple questions, stared aimlessly into your closet until your second alarm startled you into snatching the first shirt you came across—clasped at a stranger’s hoodie until the rainwater pooled on your lashes dripped into your eyes.

Robotically, you thrust your arms through the sleeves and tugged it over your head, “Thanks.” The sweet scent of grass clung to the fabric, and there was something earthier underneath it, something like evergreen. You smiled slightly, combing your baby hairs behind your ears, “I guess I forgive you for attempting to blind me in the process.”

Stiles’s shoulders unwound as he scoffed, “That was an excellent throw. First-line material, honestly.”

You looked at him and tilted your head, eyebrows crawling towards your hairline, and Stiles sighed loudly, “Okay, so I’m not an ‘athlete’ or whatever—but I’m working on it. You’ll see—you’ll all see.”

You hummed softly, unconvinced but grateful enough to not comment further. Another bout of silence fell between you, but it wasn’t so restless this time—even after Stiles torpedoed his body through his passenger seat. He fought with his keys for a while until the correct one slid into the ignition. 

The jeep’s engine hummed pleasantly in the background as you let out a soft sigh, dropping your head back against your car window. The rain had stopped somewhere between trying to unlock your car and now, but you couldn’t quite recall when. The chill wasn’t so bad, you realized, without your foul mood casting a shadow over your head.

Stiles landed back on his feet and leaned against the jeep. You could feel his gaze on you again. A tickling sensation trailed down your spine as you fiddled with your keychain. You took a step backwards and bit your bottom lip, “I should probably try start my car…y’know, before you throw something else at my face.’”

He nodded, taking a step towards his jeep, “Solid plan. A tire iron was next.”

You slid into your car and stared at the steering wheel, forgetting to laugh at his joke. You wrapped your fingers around 10 and 2 and silently called upon every deity you’d ever heard of to end your suffering. Stiles seemed nice enough, but you seriously doubted your smalltalk capabilities were up-to ‘ride home’ standards. Perhaps, you should revisit your resounding dedication to atheism, you thought, as the engine sputtered in protest a few times and then came back to life. 

Stiles flashed two thumbs up through the window. The smile on his face was positively goofy, but his dismount from the jeep was somehow even goofier. He stumbled over his large feet a few times before regaining stability. You bit back a smile when he shot you another thumbs up, this time through the dash as he removed the jumper cables from your car’s battery.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans again; at this point, you were convinced that they were beyond saving, but Stiles didn’t seem concerned. He tapped against your window before stepping around the open door, “You should probably let it run for a while. Take the scenic route home; enjoy all the Beacon Hills hotspots open past 8:00 pm on a weeknight. I personally recommend the Rite Aid or Walmart.”

You snorted, “Maybe I’ll swing by the Preserve. I hear the woods are especially beautiful in the foreboding darkness.”

“Don’t.” Serious was an odd look on Stiles’s face. You decided that you much preferred the goofy grin. “Don’t go anywhere near the Preserve. It’s officially cordoned off—totally locked down, quarantine-zone-central. Something about flesh-eating, parasitic plant life.”

“As completely real and unobtrusive as that sounds,” you drawled, “don’t worry about it. Literally every single person in town knows about the body they found in the woods.” It was bound to happen, small town and all—and ‘woman dies in deadly animal attack’ was the most interesting thing that had happened in Beacon Hills since the intersection got a Target two years ago. “I’ve seen every installment of Friday the 13th and The Blair Witch Project. If I’m going to be murdered, I refuse to also be humiliated by a cliché C.O.D.” 

The manic expression on his face softened to a relieved smile and then again to a little smirk, “So what’s a certified fresh murder, then? Not that I doubt the depths of human depravity, but I think society killed off originality a few centuries ago.”

You thought back to a house fire with no origin, accelerant, or discernible cause. Apparently, not. “You know what they say,” you sighed, “life finds a way.”

Stiles tilted his head, “And death.”

“And death,” you agreed, staring at a small chip in your windshield. The cracks had just begun to spiderweb out from the pit. 

Stiles looked like he wanted to say something, and he looked so much like the Sheriff with his face twisted around thoughtful contemplation that you couldn’t believe it had taken you this long to make the connection. The boy in the photo had grown up. How unfortunate for him. Stiles swallowed whatever it was that was lingering on his tongue and shut your door. He leaned his elbow against the window frame and cocked his hand in a stiff little wave, “Seeya at school. I’ll bring something fun for target practice—maybe grapes. You like grapes? Don’t answer that—I’ll surprise you.”

You put your car in drive once Stiles was safely a few feet from the wheels and gave him a dry smile, “The anticipation is killing me.”

What a scary place to be, you thought as you watched Stiles disappear in your rearview mirror. Anticipation. Hope. Life. You were chronically good at surviving; cockroached your way out of every horrible thing life squashed you with. Lately, all you could do was cling to your heartbeat and the warmth of your skin, until you were barely more than roadkill. A walking carcass was a far cry from living, but death would not stop for you, so you stopped looking for him. You kept treading water, took your pills, stopped existing—you were a lot like Schrödinger’s cat that way: too stubborn to live, too stubborn to die. You didn’t know what to do if someone unsealed the box and forced you to choose. That was the trouble with possibility; it required far too much uncertainty.

Your dad’s SUV was parked in the garage when you finally pulled into your circle driveway. It was a rare sight; your dead battery had disrupted your usual routine. You were supposed to be safely tucked away in your room after an early dinner—take-out usually, sometimes a quesadilla if you were feeling exceptionally inspired—by the time your dad got home from work. It was dysfunctional in every sense of the word, but it was the only way you could function in the same space. 

He used to stare at you from the other end of the dinner table: not eating, not speaking. The only way you knew he was alive was the slow rise and fall of his chest. After a while, he moved dinner to his office. ‘Working dinner,’ he’d say in passing, ‘budgets are due.’ Eventually, he stopped coming home altogether. It was better that way, you thought. You loved each other better from afar, where the power of nostalgia could cloud all the present unpleasantries. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you now. You wondered, and you desperately didn’t want to find out.  

You shouldered your backpack and made sure your car lights were off twice before quietly creeping into the mudroom. You could hear the buzz of the microwave as you toed off your sneakers and tried to discern the smell emanating from the kitchen. Something with garlic and tomato. Bona Vita, probably. Your dad loved their al pomodoro. 

You tried to make yourself as small as possible as you skulked into the kitchen, shoulders hunched to your ears and grip tight around the strap of your backpack. Your dad’s back was to you; you could see the wrinkles in his collar from where he tugged at it when he was agitated. He stopped stirring his pasta once you reached the island. 

“Did…” your dad trailed off for a moment, still facing the kitchen counter, “did everything go alright with the Sheriff?” 

You shrugged even though he couldn’t see you, “I guess.”

“It’s just,” he rubbed at his jaw and looked down towards the oven, “it’s almost eight. I was wondering…worrying.”

He still wasn’t looking at you. You stared at the back of his head and sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. Look at me. Your brows pinched, and your back molars ground together. Look at me. 

“I called him. Sheriff Stilinski. He said that you didn’t speak for long.”

“Didn’t have anything new to say,” you shoved your hands into hoodie pockets, realizing belatedly that you forgot to give Stiles his sweatshirt back. Another problem for another time. 

“That’s not what I—” your dad grasped the lip of the counter and hung his head like it suddenly weighed too much for his spine, “I was wondering what happened to you.” 

“Oh,” you shifted your weight onto your other foot, “dead battery. I think it was the door light.”

Your dad nodded a little, “Do you need someone to pick up your car?”

“Got a jump from a friend.” Not a friend, not really, but you supposed it was the closest you’d come to one in the last four years. That was just a little too sad to say out loud. 

“Good.” He nodded again, “Good.” 

You nodded because it seemed like the only thing to do and slipped towards the hallway. You’d taken no less than five steps out of the kitchen when your dad said, “You could call me. Next time, you could call me.”

Maybe. Maybe you could if he would look at you.

[cecilysobsessions]

ALL YOURS (m.) | levi

↬ word count: 11k

↬ slight enemies to friends to lovers except levi has always been in love but he’s in denial, fem!reader, ive decided that this takes place in a time in aot when nobody was dead and titans were the only problem lol, sassy reader, jealous levi, inexperienced levi, sub!levi, typos

↬ summary: ever since you were promoted to captain, all levi ackerman has ever done was shit on the way you run things. turns out he was only acting like that because he couldn’t handle his feelings for you.

↬ genre: fluff / smut

↬ warnings: swearing, begging, levi on his knees for you, oral, vaginal sex, desperate levi lmao

↬ a/n: i havent watched aot in so long so forgive me if i get some things wrong 😭 also im such a slut for sub characters im so sorry

m.list

To Levi, you were the most infuriating, idiotic, and impatient person to ever join the military. Every little thing you ever did he hated with his entire being: from the way you spoke to your squad, to the way you disciplined and trained them, even to the way you made your tea he hated. But, of course, he wasn’t being a hater for no reason.

You were a good fighter. Talented, agile, naturally gifted and athletic. You were capable of ridding a large area of titans within minutes, something not many scouts had a skill for. And although Levi had always silently admired that about you, that was the only thing that kept him from trying to get you kicked out. The two of you were opposite in personality: like opposite ends of earth, sun and moon, fire and water, the two of you had nothing in common and were never able to agree on anything.

“Everybody likes the new captain more than Levi,” he had overheard one of the other scouts whisper in the dining hall after you got promoted.

“Well, yeah. She’s so much nicer and a way better captain than Levi. She’s pretty, too.”

Pretty? Please, were those scouts blind? There was nothing pretty about you. Except for the fact that he seemed to be at a loss of words whenever his eyes looked into yours and the fact that whenever you pulled your hair out of your ponytail he got a whiff of your shampoo and took in a breath just to get a sniff of your shampoo and the fact that when you walked into a room you stole the attention of everybody there and the fact that you were so confident in your ability to run a squad and the fact that he did you find you pretty but he would never admit it and would rather feed himself to the titans than say so. But other than that, you spoke too much and too loud, you were taller than him, and you were annoying.

•••

“We’ve got a couple new scouts coming in,” Erwin spoke as he pulled out a sheet of paper from his desk, looking at the list of the new names of soldiers. He had called you and Levi into his office to discuss “important” things.

“I know you’ve just been promoted,” he looked up from the paper and into your eyes. “But these new recruits need some training and no one else is available to train them. Since you’re still a new captain yourself, I think it would be a good idea for Levi to help you and maybe teach you some things.”

Did he think you were incapable of training some new kids just because your promotion was recent? What kind of stupid logic was that? You were perfectly capable of training the new recruits all on your own and did not need that grumpy old short guy to help you.

“Sir, do not worry. I don’t require the assistance of captain Levi to train these new recruits. I think I know how to do that already,” you kept your hands behind your back and in clenched fists; your ego had taken a blow due to the fact that Erwin believed you needed help to do your job. Besides, you had a squad of your own and trained them yourself, so what made Erwin think you needed help?

“I think you do,” he replied flatly. “You’re a great captain and you’re good at training, but I think you’re too soft on your soldiers. Your soldiers need more discipline themselves…” he continued to list more stupid reasons as to why you needed Levi’s help, but you spaced out. Sneaking a peek at Levi standing beside you, you eyed his resting bitch face, absolutely no trace of human emotion on his face. Why was he being so quiet? Was he already informed of this before you? If so, why did he find out before you? Was he okay with doing it and that was why he wasn’t saying anything?

“They’ll be here this afternoon,” Levi turned to look at you, his voice stern and cold. “Their training will begin as soon as they arrive and if you’re late, you’ll be cleaning all the horses for tonight.”

“I’m never late,” you corrected.

“At yesterday’s meeting you showed up six minutes late. You are always late.” he told you bluntly.

“Well then, it’s settled. Try not to kill each other in the process of training the new recruits. We need to set an example and show them that the two of you are capable captains.” Erwin said proudly.

“Only one of us is a capable captain,” Levi says, rolling his eyes and turning to leave the room. Your eyes twitch in annoyance and your footsteps follow Levi’s out the office door. What the hell was he thinking? It would be such a waste of time to have both of you train the new recruits, so why would it be the two of you? And why did he say you’re always late? You’re never late! And if you weren’t a capable captain, why were you promoted? All Levi has ever done is shit on you and take any chance he can get to throw shade at you. 

“I’ll have you know I’m a very capable captain. In fact, probably more capable than you. That’s why everyone likes me more than you,” you start lecturing him, catching up to his footsteps quickly as you follow him.

“People only like you more because you are nicer. Niceness does not kill titans; skills and weapons do.” he refuses to look at you, choosing to stare straight ahead.

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because since you became captain and began training more recruits, we have had a higher number of deaths since your dumb promotion.” he finally looked at you, eyes filled with such hatred it was like he could murder you if he stared long enough.

“That’s not true!”

“Of course you think that,” he rolled his eyes, his flat and monotone voice gone; he was beginning to get pissed. “You would know our deaths have been higher than usual if you bothered to put in effort and actually read the mission reports.”

“I do read them,”

“No, you do not. Because if you did, you would realize that the way you discipline and train our soldiers is doing them more harm than good. And you would change your ways of training. But instead, you hang around drinking with the others and making jokes and pulling pranks instead of doing your job properly.” Levi lectured, his voice laced with annoyance and hatred. 

You always knew Levi thought you did a bad job as a captain, but you never thought he would actually say it to your face. He never said much to you, but when he did, it was just insults and lectures about everything you did wrong as a person.

“At least I leave time for fun! You’re all work and no play and this is why nobody likes you, Levi. Why do you think everyone calls you an old grumpy man?”

“Our soldiers are out here dying and you want to have fun? Are you that stupid, or do you just not have a brain? We don’t have time for your dumb little games, you idiot. Do you not care about the lives of our soldiers at all? Are you that much of a stupid brat that you are unable to comprehend that?”

You stare blankly at Levi. He was right. You didn’t realize it until now, but everything he said was right. While you never intended to poorly train anybody or get anybody killed, you realize that the way you did things probably caused the death of a lot of people because of you. Your heart sank and you were at a loss of words. You would never describe Levi as a nice person, but you didn’t think he was going to blow up in your face and insult everything you did. When all you do is stare at him in response, his eyes leave yours and he looks away awkwardly. After blowing up on you and practically yelling at you in the hallway, you grew silent and he was starting to feel awkward.

“See you tonight.” is all he says before he walks off, leaving you alone in the hallway.

•••

You were late. And not even by a few minutes, but by two hours. Two whole hours. After yelling at you in the hallways, you had gone to your room to take a nap and sleep off how you were feeling. Unfortunately, you overslept and nobody bothered to come and get you to wake you up.

Levi was going to kill you.

After sprinting your way to the training area like your life depended on it (because it did), you found Levi standing in front of the new recruits, his chin held high and proud as he spoke to them. When you walked up awkwardly to his side, he turned and rolled his eyes at you.

“Ah, the incapable captain I told you all about,” he begins, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance because of your presence.

“At least I don’t need a step stool to grab some cups in the kitchen cabinets,” you automatically responded, straightening out your uniform. Your comment earned a couple laughs from the new recruits.

“Don’t forget you’re washing the horses tonight, captain.” his sharp eyes looked up at yours, a mischievous glimmer glowing in them. Ha! He thought you were actually going to listen to him and clean the horses? 

“You are not my captain anymore, Levi. We are now equals, so I no longer take orders from you.” you grinned sarcastically. Now that you were standing in front of him again, you began to feel re-pissed from earlier.

“I’ve been a captain longer than you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You might be a captain now, but remember you used to be in my squad.”

“Thankfully, I’m no longer part of it.”

Levi turns to you and eyes the pillow mark on your cheek, a smirk coming to play on his lips. When he noticed you weren’t on time, he had thought that maybe you were still mad at him earlier and decided you weren’t going to show up. While that might have pissed him off, he wouldn’t be surprised if that was what you were going to do.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” you retorted after noticing that he was looking at you for more than half a second. His stupid face was a waste of good looks.

“She is a perfect example of what you don’t want to do,” he turned back to the recruits. “Too lazy to show up on time and too lazy to fix themselves up before leaving the room.”

Your eyes twitch in annoyance and you lean down slightly to whisper to Levi. “When I wash the horses tonight, I’ll be sure to miss yours. I know how pissed you off you get when something or someone isn’t clean.”

He knew you weren’t joking. He knew that you knew exactly how to push his buttons. And if there’s one thing he knew about you, it was that you were petty and what you said wasn’t a threat, but a promise. But when you leaned down to whisper into his ear, your strands of hair that softly brushed against his cheek had him hesitating to say anything. He got a whiff of your shampoo and looked away. It smelled like peaches. Your whisper felt like a gentle tickle in his ear, your voice so low and sultry it annoyed him.

You were annoying.

“You don’t want to be on her squad. Trust me everyone, she’d probably get you killed.” Levi tells the recruits, his feet planted firmly where he was standing. He wasn’t moving away from you.

“Captain Levi here would probably overwork you all to death before that happens.” you send a sweet smile to the soldiers standing across from you and Levi.

“Right, well there’s a reason I’m humanity’s strongest soldier and not you.” the not-so-subtle brag had you rolling your eyes.

“There’s also a reason everyone calls you a grumpy old man behind your back,” you smile at everyone and Levi takes a deep breath in annoyance.

“Nobody calls me that.”

“Everybody calls you that.”

“That’s not true.”

“Of course you wouldn’t know. I just said that everyone says it behind your back. Were you not listening?”

“Every time you speak I choose not to listen.”

“Choose not to? Or can’t because your hearing is so bad now that you’re old?”

His mouth twitches. He is annoyed. “I might be older than you, but I’m still stronger than you.

“Oh, are you getting irritated, captain? I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were so sensitive to words. Must be a thing that happens when you get old…”

Before Levi is about to insult you back, the two of you hear a faint voice in the background. “Captain!” both of you turn around. It was Jean.

“Why are you interrupting us?” Levi glares, crossing his arms. “What do you want?”

“Hange told me to come get you guys. We’ve got food in the dining hall to celebrate the new scouts.”

“We’ve barely begun training. They can eat when they’re fin—”

“Dinner is serrrrved!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in the air in victory. “Let’s go eat, newbies! You’ll need all the energy you can get if you are gonna kill some titans!” as you holler and hype up the scouts, you walk off and direct them all to follow you, leaving Levi in the dust.

As he watches you walk off, Levi’s eyes can’t help but drift to the person walking beside you. Jean. 

•••

It’s like his eyes had a mind of their own. Almost like it was against his will, Levi’s eyes followed you around the dining hall. You were the life of the party: charismatic, friendly, and humorous. There was music and food and laughing and you were dancing for the scouts, a bright smile plastered on your pretty face. Normally he wouldn’t think much of it or even care to look, but a certain someone wouldn’t stop looking at you and touching you and being friendly with you.

Jean.

He knew the two of you were friendly, but he never thought it was anything more than that. But tonight, as he was watching you dance, Levi noticed that he wasn’t the only one watching you. Jean’s eyes followed you like you were the only person in the entire room. Jean admired you from his seat, hollering in excitement and hyping you up to the music. 

Not that Levi cared. Of course not. Why would he? He totally wasn’t just sitting on some chair in the corner of the dining hall too cranky or upset to talk to anybody because he didn’t like the way Jean was looking at you. Where was Mikasa? Didn't the kid have a crush on her? 

Levi scoffs to himself, taking a sip of his tea as he continues watching you. He sees you saunter over to Jean, grabbing his cup and taking a sip of it before smiling at him. Levi’s eyes can’t help but roll back. Why did you look so happy and smiley next to Jean? Why did it look like you were flirting with him? And why was Levi getting annoyed?

Why did he care anyway? He just found you annoying. Your presence, your personality, your entire being annoyed him. He stood up abruptly, setting his tea down and walking out to get some fresh air. 

“Enjoying the party?” It was you.

“Did you follow me out here?” He leaned on the wooden fence railing and looked up at the night sky.

“You stomped out like a cranky old man, so I thought I’d check up on you.” you teased, coming up and resting your arms on the railing as well.

“I was doing just fine until you came out here. Don’t you have your boyfriend to go back to?” he couldn’t help but bring up Jean. He was nosy and wanted to so badly know if there was anything going on between the two of you.

“Which one?” you tried to joke, but you forgot he didn’t have a sense of humor because he just stared at you. 

“Are you curious if I have a boyfriend or not?” you ask after a beat. 

“I don’t care.”

“Bullshit. You must be curious at least a little bit. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked.” you tease, leaning towards him and tilting your head and waiting for an answer.

Fuck, why did you have to look at him like that? Head slightly tilted, hair tousled from dancing around, a bright glimmer of hope beaming in your eyes, something he lost a long time ago. His eyes met yours, and he found himself staring at you. Observing, admiring, memorizing your features. He blamed the glistening stars and the shining light of the moonlight that made you look so beautiful. He had found other people beautiful before, but your beauty couldn’t even be compared to others. There was something about you that always hooked his attention, always had his eyes searching for you, and always had his heart beating faster. Although he found you annoying and couldn’t stand being near you, when you weren’t around he found himself searching for you. Thinking of you. Longing for you.

“Are you staring at me, captain?” you teased sarcastically, a smug smile on your pretty lips.

“You’re just so ugly it’s unbelievable someone as ugly as you even exists.” what the fuck just came out of his mouth? It was an automatic response, something he would say out of annoyance but not actually mean. Levi felt himself panic a little, his heartbeat speeding up in fear of how you would respond.

“Oh yeah?” you smiled once more and his eyes wandered down to your lips. He wondered what they would feel like against his own. “If I’m so ugly, why do you keep looking at me? Why don’t you look away?” 

You leaned in closer to him once more, your lips close to his if you even slightly moved forward you would be kissing. There was a moment of silence that sat between the two of you. You felt his breath on your lips, your gaze moving down to them. His heart began to race; why did it look like you were about to kiss him? Why were your eyes on his lips? And why were his eyes beginning to drift to yours?

“Levi,” your voice a whisper. His head tilted slightly to the side, like he was getting ready to lean and kiss you. The background noise of music and the scouts cheering inside faded away because all he could focus on was your lips. 

“Yes?” He sounded so sweet, so soft. It wasn’t like him at all; he had never been this nice to you. Usually when you tried to get his attention he always answered with nothing but a cold attitude. 

“What do you want?”

“If you’re going to say something stupid like you usually do, go bother someone else. Unlike you, I actually have work to do.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me right now. I’m not interested in whatever bullshit you have to say, you brat.”

“Do you—” you began.

“CAPTAIN!” the door behind you slammed open, a slightly drunk Jean stumbling out and holding his beer up. “We’re playing a drinking game, come join us!”

“I’m not interested. Fuck off.” Levi angrily replied. 

“Oh. I wasn’t talking to you,” Jean awkwardly said, eyes drifting from Levi to you.

“A drinking game? Sounds fun!” you excitedly smiled, straightening back up and pulling away from Levi. As you began to follow Jean back inside, you felt a firm grip on your arm. 

“She’s not interested either,” Levi spoke for you, his hand tugging you back to where you were standing next to him. “We’re discussing mission stuff.” he doesn’t know why he said that. A lie like that just rolled off his tongue so easily and so automatically. If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want you to go back inside, but stay out there with him.

Jean seemed to notice the hostile vibe from Levi, nodded, then walked back inside. Levi’s hand stayed wrapped around your arm, his grip strong and firm.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“If you go back in there and start drinking, you’re just gonna get drunk and I’m going to have to take you back to your room again.” he complained, but really it was just an excuse to get you to stay out there with him.

“That was one time!” 

“You fucking threw up on me! Twice!”

“Well, where was I supposed to vomit? My bed?!”

“Just don’t throw up at all!”

“How could you say that to a drunk person?!”

“Maybe don’t get drunk and I won’t say that!”

“Ugh, whatever. This is why nobody likes you, Levi.” you roll your eyes, shaking your hand from his grip. You get drunk one time and he decides to bring it up at every chance he gets.

“You think I care about what other people think?”

“I think you care what I think of you.”

“You’re thinking wrong. Maybe if you actually had a brain you wouldn’t say that. I don’t know what Erwin was thinking when he promoted someone as stupid and incompetent as you.”

“Whatever, short bitch.” you snorted.

“What did you say to me?”

“Oh sorry,” you sarcastically apologize, dramatically leaning down. “Lemme lean down to your level so you can hear me. I forgot you’re old, too.”

He scoffs, flicking your forehead aggressively with his middle finger. “OW! What the hell was that for?”

“For being such a brat.”

“What? Me wanting to go and have some fun is being a brat?”

“Yeah. If Jean hadn’t suggested something so stupid, you wouldn’t want to do something so stupid.”

“What does this have anything to do with Jean?” you questioned. Why was he suddenly bringing Jean up? “Wait,” you pointed an accusing finger at him. “Are you jealous?”

“What? Are you stupid? What kind of dumb question is that?” he scoffs again, leaning back on the railing and rolling his eyes. He tried to hide it, but the faint pink on his cheeks was obvious.

You gasped dramatically, covering your mouth. “You are, aren’t you?!” 

“No!”

“Would you look at that,” you tilted your head in amusement. “Captain Levi is jealous.”

“Not only are you stupid, but you’re crazy too.”

“Insult me all you want; I know you’re jealous.” you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. Excitement fluttered in your chest and you peeked at Levi, trying to see if he had any sort of reaction.

Although you looked at him and waited for some sort of reaction, Levi was still able to keep himself together. It felt as if his heart was about to explode and his hands were clammy from being nervous and he wanted to avoid all and any eye contact with you because if he even looked at you for one second his facade would break. 

You wouldn’t stop staring. Your soft, inviting, and beautiful eyes would not leave his face and the more you stared the harder it became to keep a straight face. He needed to change the subject.

“About the other day after leaving Erwin’s office,” he started. “I’m sorry for what I said. I should have been a little nicer about it.” 

Levi apologized? To you? If there was one thing you thought you would never hear from the old grumpy guy, it was an apology.

“Even though what I said is true, I could have worded it better so that you wouldn’t cry.” 

“I didn't cry!”

“I know you did. I walked by your room after that and heard you.”

“You listened in on me crying? You’re such a freak,” you poked fun at him. “I didn’t even know you were capable of apologizing. Or even feeling bad.”

“I know you’re a sensitive person.”

“I am not a sensitive person.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, I am no—”

“Would you just shut up and accept my apology?” he burst out, ruthless eyes glaring at you. 

Levi was an impatient man. “You don’t apologize to someone and demand for them to forgive you,” you lectured. “That’s not how it works, captain. Of course you wouldn’t know; this is probably the first time you’ve ever said sorry.”

He knew he shouldn’t have apologized because all you were going to do was critique it and annoy him again. “Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the fence. You knew he was about to leave. “Don’t get too drunk. I’m not going to take you back to your room if you do.”

“I’ll have Jean take me to my room then. Or maybe his.” you brought him up again, just to test the waters and make sure he was actually jealous and you weren’t just crazy. You didn’t actually intend on getting drunk or having Jean escort you back to your room, you just wanted a reaction.

“Do whatever you want.” he brushed you off, waving a hand in dismissal as he began walking away.

•••

Maybe it was the alcohol or the midnight sky or the glistening stars, but since that night you and Levi were able to have a somewhat decent conversation without wanting to throw the other across the room. And since that night, his insults haven’t been as harsh as usual and he didn’t jump at every chance to point out everything that was wrong with you. Surprisingly, he actually began to speak to you as if you were a human and had human emotions. It felt weird at first, and you thought that maybe he was only acting that way because you were forced to train the new scouts together, but even after their training finished, he was slightly nicer to you. If he kept it up, you might even consider him your friend. 

He might have begun being nicer to you, but that wasn’t the case for Jean. Jean was getting scolded more often and more harshly than usual, over the smallest things that didn’t even matter. It was so obvious that even the other scouts started noticing.

“Jean’s getting scolded again,” you overheard Armin inform his friends in the dining hall. Your eyes shifted to Levi and Jean a couple feet away. Jean was looking away in shame and Levi was staring up at him, mouth going off and blabbering about how his tea was lukewarm.

“Over what?” Eren asked.

“Captain Levi asked Jean to heat up his tea, but apparently it wasn’t hot enough.”

“HA! He probably deserved it!” Eren cracked up, grabbing his stomach in the process to soothe his laughter.

“But haven’t you noticed too,” Armin lowered his voice in an attempt to be more secretive. You heard your name and all of a sudden their conversation was interesting and now you were listening on purpose. “He’s been so nice to her lately…” 

You began to crane your neck towards the young scouts, nosy and desperate to hear what they were saying about you. Nonchalantly taking a sip of your drink, you felt a firm hand grip your shoulder. “Captain,” you looked up. 

It was Levi. You never thought much of it before, but now that Levi was referring to you as captain had your heart doing leaps in your chest. It was small and insignificant, but something about him putting respect on your name and calling you with your title made you feel appreciated.

“Come with me. Mission meeting.”

•••

You had forgotten that Erwin asked the two of you to team up and join squads together on an upcoming mission. Since Levi had toned down his attitude towards you, Erwin took it as a sign and assumed the two of you were growing closer. Unfortunately, the mission didn’t run as smoothly as you had hoped.

You sustained an injury, it was light and minor, but it still worried everyone. You had crashed into a tree, a couple tree branches scraping you and drawing blood. You had hastily ripped off a part of your shirt, clumsily wrapping it around the injury on your arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Now that you were back in the walls safely, you were trying to wrap your arm up again with bandages with one hand. You struggled, failing to wrap it around your bleeding arm, cursing under your breath and debating whether or not you should go out and ask for someone’s help. Luckily, someone walked into the room to help you. 

That someone was Levi.

He walked in silently, his light footsteps were the only sound in the room as he walked up to you. “Need help?”

“No, I don’t. I’m perfectly capable of doing it on my own.”

“Doesn’t look like it. You’re still bleeding.”

“I’m not blind, I can see that.” you remarked, once again struggling to wrap the bandage around your arm. You hissed in frustration and pain. Why wouldn’t the stupid bandage just wrap around you?

“You’re such an idiot,” he commented, stepping in front of where you were sitting. He stood between your legs, your legs touching his. He didn’t make a move to pull away, his slender fingers brushing against yours as he took the bandage from your hands and gently wrapping it around your wound. His hands were soft. Contrasting his personality and attitude, his hands handled you with a gentle touch.

“I told you to be careful before we left for the mission,” he said, securing the bandage around your arm. Your eyes drifted to his slender hands, veins slightly protruding as he applied pressure to the bandage. “And you didn’t listen.”

“You think I wanted to get hurt on purpose?” you retorted, rolling your eyes and wincing at the pain of your injury.

“Does it hurt?”

“Duh.”

“Weakling,” he finished wrapping you up, his eyes staring down into yours. “You need to be more careful next time.” his voice was almost a whisper, filled with a slight touch of concern.

“I know that already.” your eyes stayed on his. His sharp eyes focused on your face, his pupils darting around the details on your face. Was there something on your face? You felt a rush of insecurity and an embarrassing blush grew on your cheeks. “Is there something on my face? Why do you keep looking at me, huh? Got a crush on me or something?” 

You watched Levi inhale deeply, his breath lightly brushing against your cheek and you suddenly realized just how close he was standing in front of you. Even though he already finished wrapping you up, he was still standing close to you, his legs brushing against yours. You watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed nervously, his eyes going from watching your face to looking away.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he warned.

“Oh?” you suddenly smiled with confidence. You loved watching him when you irritated him; he got annoyed so easily it was amusing. And when he got irritated, the warning look he shot at you with his eyes sharpened and hard, made you want to push his buttons even more. 

“Is it really so ridiculous? Because you can’t seem to take your eyes off me, just like the other night. Am I really so ugly you’re unable to look away?” you remark, thinking about how he called you ugly the other night in a panic when you caught him staring at you.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ve never seen anyone as unattractive as you are.” his eyes dropping down to your lips and lingering on them. 

You don’t know why, but in the moment you wondered how he would react if you kissed him. The looks he kept giving you made you weak in the knees and you couldn’t help but want to give into your desires. 

“Then why are you staring at my lips, captain?” you challenged, a teasing smile creeping up.

“Because you talk too much,” his eyes darted to  yours for just a beat before dropping back down to your lips. “You talk too much…” he repeated, but this time it was a whisper, his lips hovering over yours. “And you’re too loud…” he whispered, his voice laced with a strange sweetness you had never heard before.

“I talk too much and I’m too loud? Oh yeah, then what else do you hate about me?” 

“You’re too cocky,” he answers you, his arms coming down to rest on the chair you were sitting down on either side of you. You got a whiff of his scent and inhaled the smell of bar soap. “And when you’re hanging around the other scouts, you dance so horribly it hurts to look at.” his head tilts to the side almost as if he was ready to kiss you. All you had to do was move forward the tiniest bit and you’d get to taste his lips.

“You watch me when I dance?” you grin, tilting your head the other way and leaning in just a bit. When you leaned in, you noticed he didn’t make a move to lean away from you. You have never been this close to Levi, so now that you were, you felt a rush of excitement and wanted more of it. 

“Yeah, you’re so bad at it, it’s entertaining.” you saw a small grin appear on his face, something you almost never saw.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he quickly says before leaning down and lightly brushing his nose against yours, if he moved any closer his lips would be on yours. He exhales against your skin, his breathing uneven as he attempts to hold himself back. 

When he doesn’t make a move, you grow impatient and lean in to kiss him yourself. To your surprise, he doesn’t pull away, but instead surrenders to his desires and closes his eyes. He is still for a moment, and you wonder if it is because he regrets kissing you back or if it is because he’s nervous. You lean in to him a bit, trying to signal to him to start actually kissing you back. The faint taste of black tea covers your lips before a sudden realization, and your eyes shoot open.

“Was that your first kiss?” you ask, pulling away and smirking down at him, the new memory of levi moving his lips against your clumsily in an attempt to kiss you made you smile. 

His eyes widened in fear and embarrassment. “W-What? No!”

“Oh my, captain. I didn’t know you had this side to you. Wanna kiss again? I'll show you how to do it.” you wink, enjoying the slight blush that crept up on his cheeks as his eyes looked everywhere but yours.

“I’ve kissed people before!”

“Your mother doesn’t count.”

“I wasn’t talking about her!”

You grab his chin, tilting it downwards as you look up at him. “That’s cute. You’re cute. Kiss me again,” you lean in excitedly. After finding out how inexperienced he was, it made you want to kiss him even more. When you’re about to lean in and kiss him again, Levi panics and hastily puts his hands on his shoulder to stop you.

“I—what are you doing?!” 

“What? You don’t wanna kiss me anymore?”

“You… you brat. You made fun of me,” there is a slight pout on his lips.

Oh. He was hurt you had made fun of him. Well, you didn’t know he was that sensitive to it. “Sorry,” you tell him. You stand up, stepping away from him because now you’ve just made it awkward and feel the urge to leave. When you wait for his response and it’s silent, you decide to leave. 

Levi can’t believe what he just did. He let you kiss him?! What the hell was he thinking? Was he actually out of his mind? Of all the people there, why did it have to be you? All you ever did was annoy him with your stupid face and stupid and arrogant attitude.

But as he continues standing there after you had just walked out, he can’t help but want to go after you and apologize. He can’t help but want to tell you that he was just nervous and excited and that he didn’t know what to do and that he actually did want to kiss you. 

Your lips were warm and soft and even though it was a moment, your kiss made him feel safe. Your kiss had him melting, wanting more. More of the kiss and more of you. 

•••

It was freezing. Levi should have gone back to his room and tried to light a fire again and cover himself with his blankets and gone to sleep but his mind was too busy with thoughts.

Thoughts of you.

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he leaned on the fence outside his room’s porch, breathing in the crisp midnight breeze. In his head, vivid images of your lips on his invaded his mind. A pink blush crept on his cheeks as he recalled the exhilarating feeling of your lips on his. He hastily shook his head; he didn’t want to give into that feeling. He was falling for you and he was falling hard. He had to get his head straight. 

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to push away thoughts of you, he walked back into his room and tried to light a fire again. His stupid clumsy hands couldn’t light the stupid fire and was getting annoyed. His mind jumped to an outrageous idea: what if he just visited your room so he could just use the fireplace there instead of wasting his time trying to use his? Was he just using that as an excuse to go visit your room? Of course not. It would be such a waste of matches if he lit his own fire. And, of course, he wouldn’t want to waste his matches… 

Levi felt ridiculous. What the hell was he doing, standing in front of your door in the middle of the night and knocking? Was he that desperate to see you he had to come find you in the middle of the night? And what was that dumb excuse of using your fireplace for heat to come see you?

“Levi?” you raised an eyebrow in confusion when you opened the door. “What’re you doing here?”

His eyes immediately looked you up and down, admiring your figure as you stood there in your nightgown, waiting for him to answer you.

“Captain,” he spoke, at a loss of what to say. “Um, well it’s a little cold…”

“Yeah.”

“A-And I was trying to make a fire, but I couldn’t.”

“Okay.”

“So I thought maybe—maybe you had a fire going in your room.” he sounded awkward and rigid. God, why was he struggling to get words out that made sense? He was already mortified enough he came knocking at your door in the middle of the night, but he was even more mortified when he noticed the way you look. Your nightgown was thin, almost see through, and he could see the curve of your breasts through it, your nipples peeking out from the thin material.

“Well, as you can see,” you opened the door slightly wider and showed him your fireplace. “I do have a fire going.”

“That’s what I thought,” he paused, trying to decide how he wanted to ask if he could come in. No matter how much he thought about it in the mere second he hesitated, there was no good way to ask. No matter how he would word it, he’d sound desperate and obvious that he just wanted to come in and see you. 

“You already said that.”

He decided to just rip off the bandaid; he already looked pathetic showing up at your room, there was no point in pretending anymore. “Do you mind if I come in? For the… for the fire? It’s a little cold.” he sheepishly asked, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Jeez, he felt like such a loser.

Until now, he didn’t see you show any sort of reaction or emotion to him knocking on your door, until now.

You tilted your head in amusement, a smirk growing on your face. “Oh? Are you sure that’s the only reason you want to come in, captain?” you teased, leaning down slightly to meet his eyes. 

Levi’s eyes couldn’t help but wander down to your cleavage, the cut of your dress was low and exposed you. “What other reason would I have?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you feigned innocence. But if someone saw us, they could assume you’re here for something else besides just wanting to warm up…” you told him mischievously, your eyes checking the hallway for anyone. His eyes bulged and his breath caught in his throat, unable to come up with a response. 

“I’m joking,” you break the silence, crossing your arms and smiling at his response. When Levi wasn’t lecturing you or yelling at you, he was cute. “Come in.” he walked in silently, choosing to sit on a chair as you sat on your bed. 

“So what brings you to my room at this hour?”

He didn’t want to outright say it was because he wanted to see you, but he wanted to see you. “I’m sorry,” he began. “About earlier. I panicked, so that’s why I pushed you away.”

“No worries, there’s no need to apologize. I wasn’t mad.”

That was it? Levi was overthinking and worried that he had upset you, but you brushed it off like it was no big deal.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Was that all you needed?”

“Um,” he’s trying to think of something else to say—something else to say, so that he won’t have to leave (really so that you won’t kick him out and he has an excuse to stay), but his mind has been blurry since he stepped foot into your room. He is nervous: hands clammy and shaky, breathing uneven and louder than usual, and eyes struggling to meet yours. 

“You look like you want to kiss me.”

“What?! No, I don’t!”

“Oh yeah? Then why do you keep looking at my lips?” you questioned.

He didn’t realize his eyes kept running back to your lips. He stands up abruptly, heading for the door in embarrassment. Levi reaches for the door, stepping forward to walk out. When he’s halfway out the door, he panics, quickly backing into your room, but he bumps into you.

“What’re you—” you had originally stood up to watch him leave and close the door when he backs into your space. You get a whiff of his hair, it smells subtle and clean. 

“Shit,” he slams the door and turns around. “I saw someone in the hallway.”

“And?” you look down into his eyes, panic rising in them.

“What would people think if they saw me walking out of your room in the middle of the night?” he nervously says, fidgeting with his hands in front of him, his back pressed against your bedroom door as he looks into your eyes.

“Well,” you start. “Why are you really here anyways? Is it actually because you’re cold? Or is it something more?” your tone sounds suggestive.

“You’ve misunderstood.” he speaks, his voice barely a whisper and his eyes lingering on your lips. 

“Did I?” you reply, your eyes dropping down to his lips. He licks them unconsciously, almost leaning in.

“Yes, I don’t like you that way.” a total lie. 

“You don’t like me?” you smile and lean closer to him. He stands there firmly, his nose brushing against yours as he finally looks up into your eyes.

“Not at all.” he doesn’t even bother to try and hide the fact he’s lying. 

“Then why do you keep staring at my lips? You look like you wanna kiss me.” you told him again.

“No,” he inhales sharply, his breathing uneven as he moves his mouth dangerously closer to yours. 

“So what? You hate me?”

“Yes,” he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. His lips are still against yours for a moment before he pulls away, cheeks red and eyes droopy. “I hate you.”

Maybe it was because your room was warm and cozy and inviting, or maybe because it was late at night and he was just desperate and lonely, but kissing you had Levi feeling shaky and nervous but excited. Your lips were warm and soft against his and he found himself wanting to press his body against yours in an attempt to be closer to you. 

He had tried so hard to suppress his desires to be with you, to be near you, to want you. But the walls he forcefully put up were crumbling so easily with a simple kiss from you. 

He leans in again, this time more aggressive and desperate. You smile into the kiss—he had no idea what he was doing. But the fact that he was so desperate and wanted more so badly he was willing to make a move himself had you feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside. You pull away, his lips searching for yours as you do.

“Gentle now, captain.” you whisper. It felt as if he was in a rush when there was no need for that.

Your hand gently came up to his cheek, softly touching his skin. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. It was like he was under a spell: he was so quiet and so desperate, it wasn’t like the usual Levi.

“Still hate me?” you joke.

His eyes open. This time, they’re no longer empty. His eyes are soft, focused on yours, hopeful of what is to come next.

“Yes.”

“I like you, too.” you lean in, kissing him slowly and gently. Your hands snake through his hair, tilting his head slightly to gain better access to his lips. His arms wrap around your neck, pulling you closer to him as he presses his body up against yours. His back is pressed up against the door, and you can feel his rapid heartbeat through his shirt causing you to smile into the kiss. He quickly becomes breathless, pulling away from you, his lips hovering over yours. 

As quickly as he pulls away, he pushes himself into you again, longing for more. You kiss him back, your tongue lightly licking at his mouth, asking for permission. He hesitantly opens his mouth into the kiss. Kissing him makes you feel as if you’re drunk. It’s so addicting and so satisfying it makes you want more. You lick inside his mouth, your fingers tightly gripping the roots of his hair. You pull away, your fingers grabbing his hair and tugging on it and forcing him to look into your eyes. He breathes heavily, his eyelids barely open and lips glistening wet.

“Kiss me more,” he breathes. 

“Why should I?” you tease.

“I want—no, need more of you.”

“If you want me that bad, beg for it.”

You wanted Levi to beg for it?! As if he wasn’t already embarrassed enough, you were going to make him beg for more? Did he look that desperate you thought you could make him beg for it and he’d pull through and actually do it? There was no way he was going to do that. Absolutely not. He’d rather—

“Please,” he automatically said. Even though his head was telling him not to, his heart wouldn’t listen. His hands run down your back and wrap around your waist. You can feel the warmth of his hands through your nightgown, his hands rubbing at your hips soothingly.

“Hmm?” you pretend you have no idea what he’s talking about. He leans into your side, his breath tickling your ear as he breathes in the scent of your hair. The hands on your hips pull you towards him, his hips pressing against yours, the pressure causing him to twitch in his pants.

“Come on,” he whispers as he tries to control his breathing. He felt unsteady, his breath uneven as he held himself back. “Don’t make me beg.”

He’s embarrassed. “Guess you don’t like me enough to beg,” you shrug, letting him go and crossing the room to sit on your bed.

Levi stays at your door for a moment, debating whether or not he wants to give into your desires. When his hand comes up to lock your bedroom door knob, you smirk. He makes his way over to where you’re sitting, politely kneeling down in front of you. He looks up at you through his strands of hair, his usual sharp eyes looking round and soft like a puppy.

“Please,” he says again. “Tell me what to do.” his hands come up to grab your shins, his fingers sneaking underneath your dress and caressing your skin gently. His slender hands make their way up to your knees and he tentatively lifts your nightgown to leave a loving kiss on your knee. 

He looks back up to see you staring down at him, a playful smirk painted on your face. You can’t help but smile at the fact that Levi was on his knees in front of you, so willing and eager to do whatever you wanted. He looked so submissive—his back slightly arched, shaky hands holding onto you, and voice whiny. You felt a throb in your core, taking a deep breath in an attempt to control yourself so you wouldn’t pounce on him right then and there.

“Come up here,” you whisper softly and he follows you immediately and crawls up the bed, his legs straddling your lap as he nervously sits on top of you. 

Your hands come up to squeeze his thighs, his muscles tensing as soon as you do. He wraps his hands around your neck, pulling you closer to him as your eyes move to his neck. You imagine he would look good with hickies. So you lean in, leaving a small kiss on his neck. After a few small kisses, you can’t help but nibble on his skin, biting the sensitive area and sucking on his soft skin. He reacts quickly, pulling you closer to himself and pushing your head into his neck. It is faint and quiet, but a small moan escapes his lips and his hand comes up to immediately cover his mouth.

You wanted to hear more. As your tongue traces his skin and as you start leaving marks on his neck, his head tilts back in pleasure, whimpers beginning to leave his pretty lips. He bites down on his bottom lip, gulping as he tries his hardest to stay quiet. But the more he whimpers, the harder you suck on his skin, and he can’t help but start rocking his hips involuntarily.

“Hnghh,” he whines, his hips rocking against your thighs, desperate for some friction. Your hands move from his thighs up to his ass, grabbing it and squeezing shamelessly as his hips rock faster. 

You pull away from him, cupping his ass one more as he whimpers in pleasure. Levi looks down at you, eyes dropping down to your lips as he leans in and licks at your mouth. This time the kiss is sloppy, rushed, and impatient. The more time that passes between the both of you, the more desperate you become. You bite down on his bottom lip, aggressively pulling him into you as you kiss him harder. 

“Haaa,” he pulls away breathlessly, his rocking hips slowing down. “I’ve run out of patience.”

“I noticed.”

“I want it so badly. I want you so badly. P-please,” he huffs.

“Have a little more patience, Levi.” you stroke his cheek tenderly. “We’ve got the whole night.”

He blushes, his hands coming up to reach for the first button on his shirt. “It’s a little hot in here,” his hands tremble, failing to undo his button. 

You smirk, watching him nervously try to undress. “Trying to give me a show?”

“Stop-stop teasing me,” he pouts, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his chest. “Undress me.” he demands.

“Whatever you say, captain.” your skillful fingers work at his shirt buttons, easily undoing them and pulling his shirt off for him. He’s slender but muscular, and when your eyes admire his figure, you spot his hardened erection through his pants. He doesn’t bother to cover it up out of embarrassment, instead, choosing to grab your hand and guide it to where he really wants it. 

You start gently rubbing him through the cloth, his hips slowly, rocking against the friction of your hands. You were surprised he seemed so open about what he wanted—you had thought he was going to be shyer. You stroked his hard dick through the thin material of his pants, his head leaning into the crook of your neck. He breathes in and out slowly, trying to keep his composure but it slowly begins to fade the more aroused he grows because of you.

He whimpers, his hips slowing down to a stop. “I’m ready for more,” he whispers against your ear and climbs off of you, grabbing you on top of him as he lies on the mattress. 

“Hmm,” you begin, your fingers slowly undoing his pants. “How many people have you been with, Levi?” you asked innocently, your hands tugging at his pants. He lifts his hips up, allowing you to slip off his pants and underwear. His hardened cock lies against his flat stomach, glistening with his pre-cum.  

“Not many,” he answers. “I don’t have a lot of experience.” he continues shyly and looks away in embarrassment. 

“Cute,” you grab him, your hand stroking him from his shaft to his tip. You lean over him, sticking out your tongue and letting saliva drip onto his tip, making sure to maintain eye contact with him. His eyes widen, surprised at what you’re doing but pleasured. Your saliva coats him, allowing you to more easily stroke him, your thumb circling over his tip. His hips automatically thrust upwards into your hand, his own hands gripping the bed sheets. You feel him twitch in your hands, smirking to yourself as you bring your mouth down to him once more. 

Levi’s mind is hazy and his judgment is clouded. It’s like he’s under a spell from you, he desires so much from you and is so willing to do absolutely anything for you to fulfill those desires. His head tilts downwards to watch you, your eyes hungry and determined. He can’t help but whimper even though you haven’t gone down on him completely, he is just desperate for anything at this point. He watches you smack his cock on the tip of your tongue playfully, your hand expertly stroking his shaft. He moans, making sure to cover his mouth so that nobody else hears but you. 

His eyes are still trained on yours though, watery as tears begin to fill his eyes. He feels your mouth take in all of his length, sucking him in as your hands massage his thighs. He feels you forcefully spread his legs wider, and his cheeks heat up. If it weren’t for the low lighting in the room, he would collapse from embarrassment. It was something about him splayed out on your bed, legs spread open by your hands that had him feeling a little too exposed and humiliated. Strangely, he liked it. He enjoyed being underneath you, allowing you to do whatever you desired with his body.

There was something about Levi in tears, whining and whimpering for more underneath you that had you shaking in excitement. His whimpers were like music to your ears and all you wanted in the moment was to hear more of it. He wasn’t afraid to hold back how good he was feeling and it made you want to please him even more. You took him in your mouth once more, your tongue swirling over his sensitive tip. His hips can’t help but thrust again, and you hold him down, pushing down on his thighs with your hands. You come back up, your mouth leaving a string of saliva as you pull away from him. He already looks out of breath, his forehead slightly glistening with sweat as he struggles to catch his breath.

“You look like you need some relief,” you tease, crawling up to straddle him. You begin lifting your dress to take it off, and his eyes immediately drift to your breasts. He watches you undress in silence, choosing to quietly admire you from a distance. 

He chuckles quietly, his hands grabbing at your thighs. He rubs up and down at your skin, his eyes focused on yours. “You look like you want to sit on my face,” he replies.

“I think you’re the one who wants me to,” you smirk, moving to hover over his face. You catch a glimpse of excitement and arousal in his eyes.

“I do,” he confesses. “I want to taste you so bad,” he continues, biting down on his bottom lip. “Please—please let me.”

“Well, since you seem so desperate.” you smile, grabbing the headboard in front of you as he grabs you, forcefully sitting you on top of his face. 

His tongue immediately comes up to lick you, and he moans. His hands snake back to grab your ass, pushing you further onto his mouth as he struggles to find your clit. You chuckle, angling your hips and thrusting in his face so that your clit gets the stimulation you need. You begin to ride his face, your hips aggressively thrusting as he moans into you. You wonder if he’s struggling to breathe, so you pull away a bit, but he pulls you back into him, his hands squeezing your ass cheeks as he laps at your pussy, whimpering in pleasure. You pull away, his face shining with your wetness and cheeks rosy. 

“Not bad,” you tell him, grabbing his chin with your hands. “Now it’s time to open up, captain.” your fingers ghost over his lips and he automatically opens them, taking in your two fingers. His tongue is warm and wet and swirls around your fingers as his eyes close in pleasure. He moans against your fingers as you shove them deeper into his mouth, making sure to coat them in his saliva. When you pull them out, you bring your fingers to your wetness, rubbing at your entrance.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his hand coming up to stroke his dick as he watches you tease yourself. He moans again, watching as you rub your clit, your fingers teasing yourself once more as you insert a finger into yourself. You moan, thrusting into your own fingers and Levi strokes himself faster, captivated by you. 

“Please,” he starts, tapping your thigh with his hand politely. Cute. “Fuck me, please. I need you so bad. Please, please fuck me.” he desperately asks, his eyes tearing up once again. 

“Oh? How badly do you want it?” you hover over him, rubbing your clit on his dick, your hips slowly grinding against him. 

“Ahh,” he moans and grabs your hips and presses you onto his cock. “Please… please ride me. I want you to fuck me so badly, please.” a tear slides down his cheek, more tears swelling in his beautiful eyes.

You feel yourself throb as you hover over him, patience thin. You push yourself into him, taking in his cock and throwing your head back in pleasure. You tighten around him and feel him throb inside of you. You bite down on your lip to contain your moans, making sure to keep quiet. Levi, however, was the total opposite. He was so aroused and so desperate and so turned out it was like he had completely forgotten that the walls were thin and it was late at night and people were trying to sleep. He was moaning loudly, tears escaping his eyes as he cried out to you in pleasure. He was thrusting upwards into you, frantic for some friction. His hands were gripping his bedsheets once again as he fucked himself into you, whimpers escaping his pretty lips. 

“Fuck,” you mumbled as you bounced on top of him, taking in his dick. “People are going to hear you if you don’t quiet down.” you warned, leaning down to get closer to his face. 

“Hnngh, I’m sorry,” he whispers, tilting his chin up for a kiss. You give in, sloppily kissing him as he opens his mouth to let you in, moaning into your mouth as his hips begin thrusting faster. You pull away from him, breathless as your hand sneaks down to rub your clit. He pulls you into him, holding you close as his hand strokes your hair lovingly. You feel him breathe against your ear, whimpering in pleasure as you continue to ride him. You feel yourself growing closer, so you begin to ride him faster as his moans grow louder in volume.

“H-Harder,” he breathes. “Please fuck me harder.” he pleads and you oblige, your hips speeding up along with his thrusts. He’s more vocal now, whining your name and moaning as if there isn’t somebody sleeping right next door. 

“Haaa,” he sighs, face flushed and hips struggling to keep up. He throws his head back against the pillows, panting in pleasure and hands coming up to grab your thighs, fucking himself harder into you. You feel the familiar knot in your stomach, your pussy squeezing down on him as you rub yourself, hips stuttering as a wave of pleasure takes over and you cum, toes curling and holding onto his hands that grab at yours. When he feels you cum on him, he whimpers and bucks into you, unable to hold himself back any longer. You pull yourself off of him and he moans, his cum spurting out and landing on his stomach. His face is flushed and he’s out of breath; he looked beautiful.

His eyes bore into yours, and it is silent in the room except for the sound of both of you catching your breath. As you come down from your high, you climb off of him, your legs trembling. Levi immediately sits up, grabbing your shoulder gently to sit you back down. 

“I’ll help clean up,” he assures you, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

After the two of you clean up in silence, he wonders if you are going to let him stay there, or kick him out. Now that the two of you have given in to your desires to have sex, what now? Should he confess his feelings to you now that he’s realized them, or wait for you to say something? What if you just thought tonight was nothing more than a no strings attached sex? His heart sank at the idea. He didn’t want that at all. He wanted to be with you. He wanted to be yours. Watching you finish changing your bed sheets, he awkwardly crosses the room to stand next to you.

“Um,” he starts, and you stop what you’re doing to look at him. “Do you need help? With—with your sheets..?”

“No, as you can see, I’m done.” you gesture to your made bed.

“O-Oh,” he pauses, nervous and unsure of what to say. 

You look at him, watching him rub the back of his neck out of anxiety and awkwardness. “Levi,” you start.

“Captain,” he automatically responds. 

“Do you like me?”

His eyes widen and he appears to be taken back. “Uh, I—Yes. I… I thought it was obvious.”

“You never actually said it. I was the only one to confess.” you point out.

“Oh.” here it was. Here was the moment he had to pour out his feelings and confess his love for you. The only thing was, he was so horrible with words. 

“Um,” he starts. How many times has he said that already? Jeez, he felt so stupid and nervous and embarrassed. “At first—I thought I hated you. I thought you were a horrible captain and bad at your job and annoying and a terrible dancer and I also thought you talked way too much and sometimes it would give me a headache and you’re also really cocky, but—” he stopped himself. Why was he insulting you? He was supposed to confess his feelings and all he did was start insulting you? What the hell was wrong with him? 

“S-Sorry. I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is—I… I like you. A lot. And… and, if you—I would like to be yours. All yours.” he pouted, disappointed in his confession of love. 

You smile, pulling him into a sweet kiss. “Well, you could’ve just said so, captain.”

•••

“Did you hear?” you overheard Armin whisper quite loudly to his friends as you sit a couple tables away from them in the dining hall with Levi. He was drinking tea as you munched on a sandwich. 

“He confessed his feelings to her! Captain Levi?! Can you believe that? I always thought he hated her!” he said excitedly, hitting Eren’s arm.

“Please, she’s out of his league.” Jean pointed out sourly, a hint of jealousy in his voice.

You thought you were the only one listening in on them, but when you look over to Levi, he’s smirking in victory after hearing what Jean said.

“How do you know that?” Mikasa asks Armin.

“Hange said she saw Levi walking into her room a couple nights ago around midnight,” he begins. “And she said they were loud! Especially captain Levi!”

You eye Levi, and as soon as he hears what Armin says, he spits out his tea, coughing as his eyes widen in embarrassment. You laugh, rubbing his back to soothe him. 

“I warned you that someone would hear.” you tease.

“That shithead Hange—” he coughs again, his face turning red. “Shut up, you brat.”

•••

a/n: thank you sm for reading! i didn’t mean for it to be this long lmao

m.list

[vixensp1ce]

(consensual) somnophilia with hsr characters (ver. they dream of you)

fem!reader, rest under the cut

the line between dreams and reality are already blurry, particularly for blade. when he wakes, he’s clutching you to his chest the exact same way he was just a heartbeat ago, except now you’re just beginning to stir and your clothes are still on. he presses a kiss into your hair, rolling you onto your back so he can get rid of those pesky fabrics in the way - not out of affection, but an apology for what he’s about to do to you.

one moment he’s chasing a dark, elusive shape through a shadowy city, the next having a soft, warm hand squeeze his length ever so gently. blade’s hips jerk towards you involuntarily, and he growls, pulling you under him so he can teach you who’s in charge. you’re wearing his favourite set of underwear, the one he tore accidentally but secretly kept because he’d made you finish inside it. he endeavours to be more careful this time as he tugs it off, freeing your hardened nipples and exposed your damp mound to the rough pad of his finger.

you give him a watery, pleading look, whining that you can’t wait, and blade obliges, ridding his clothes in record time. he slams balls deep into you immediately, and you scream his name, hips coming up to meet him as he pins you down and wastes no time in fucking you.

“blade-!” you beg, or moan, or cry, and it sounds like heaven to him, knowing that he’s the one making you feel so good, your pussy weeping cum just for him, your gummy walls squeezing around him so tight he just wants to mark you as his. “oh- ah- so good, so good, faster, please-”

and faster he goes, making sure he strikes that little bundle of nerves within you, one hand simulating the bundle of nerves outside of you, until he doesn’t know where your orgasm ends and his begins.

then your voice melts away, leaving his own ragged breaths as he opens his eyes on reality. he doesn’t need to look down to know that there’s a wet stain on the front of his pants, still tented uncomfortably.

this is your fault, he wants to say to you, watching your sleeping face as he flips you onto your back. your fault for being so fuckable. but he’ll forgive you, because you’ll let him use you to solve his problem, right?

jing yuan rises early for work, but sometimes, other parts of him rise before he does. he doesn’t like waking you up just for this; after all, you have your own business to get up to during the rest of the day. oh, but thinking of you doing all those things, struggling to plug your cute little hole up with your underwear and keep it all in - it’s a win-win situation if he indulges in this once in a while, isn’t it?

every time he sees that mess dripping out of you, jing yuan regains enough energy to take you for another round. he’s not messy by nature, but the challenge of stuffing you to the brim has blood rushing to his cock.

“one more time,” he pants, slinging one of your legs over his shoulder. your expression is the sweetest he's ever seen, face flushed, eyes glassy, but you still give him a small nod. he smiles, reaching down to twine his fingers with yours. "good girl."

you moan a long, broken moan as he scoops up whatever overflowing cum he can and pushes his tip into you. your legs jerk against his hold, your pussy sucking him in, and jing yuan tips his head back, allowing himself a moan. he’s sensitive too, flushed red from your gummy walls simulating him for all he’s worth…

…and when he looks back down, he finds himself lying on his side, staring into your bleary eyes as the feeling of you dissipates into a wet, uncomfortable tightness.

“had a good dream?” you whisper, voice still hoarse from sleep.

his fingers hook onto the band of your underwear, tugging swiftly downwards. “definitely. but i think i prefer being awake.”