#maybe I broke the rules but in my defense no one was following the rules before me anyways

[theshadowrealmitself]

Ty @phanboyo for the tag!

Rules: Make a new post and post your latest line from your WIP & tag as many people as there are words.

“Because every time you say being with me is “logical,” all I can think of is how many things I hate doing but do anyways because of logic, like being civil instead of punching jerks cause I don’t wanna spend a night in jail! I just worry…that you secretly resent being with me…”

(Oof, I am not going to be able to tag that many people but I’ll give it my best shot)

@warlock-pan-astronaut @pandorasparad0x @asterism343 @lenacraft @roundaboutnow @charmps-you-grickly @hopeful-bat @kelpeigh @zephyrwrites @dyinggirldied @ghostface3100 @daxsleftshoe @zero-way-out @chickenlover-19 @vivacia-18 @reveriewings @madametamma @magicalprofessorsludgedeputy @reckless-desire-to-live @bllbabaggins @kaisspamblog @mystic-fairy-tame @auroraborealis95 @harley-rose25 @mango-meister @candyheartdoe @ghospectr @easilydistractedandamused @ashoutinthedarkness @quetzalrofl @screamingrunawayzombie @they-meme-well (giving up here cause I’m a quitter 😭😭😭)

[hoshinasblade]

im going to need you all to send me happy thoughts please because i am having a very bad week and it's only monday lol anyway here's some angst. i know i have written a lot of stuff here already but so far this one is my favorite (despite me literally drafting this in my phone so expect some grammar errors or spelling mistakes), so if you can, let me know what you folks think. likes, replies, and reblogs are appreciated but i will bonk you in the head if you repost or copy any of my writings. THANK YOU ANON FOR THIS ASK!

you could bring a numbered kaiju into submission but it seems that your heart is an entirely different monster.

you should have known better than to fall in love with a colleague, and you should have known better than to fall in love with the third division's vice-captain. your own commander, gen narumi, threw you a dirty look when he found out about your intimate relationship with the bowl cut bastard, and as much as you want to come up with a good enough excuse, the best thing you were able to give is a cliched the heart wants what the heart wants. narumi scoffed at you upon hearing it, following it up with a personal vow to never be romantically involved with anyone in the force.

it didn't have to be said but hoshina still did the honors - there's not a lot of ground rules in your relationship but the first one is this: you and he are soldiers first, lovers second. you pondered if it was supposed to hurt you, and you asked yourself what the hell is wrong with you to say yes to such a set-up: all those love advice by your family and friends about how you should not settle with the bare minimum flew out the window. "i have a responsibility to my division. but i also know i love you," was what hoshina told you. in hindsight maybe you did not care about anything else he said except the part where he confessed he loves you.

you convinced yourself that nothing is more important than being loved by hoshina soshiro. and you persuaded yourself that if he could place you second in his priorities, you would be able to do so too. "i mean, i was a defense officer before i became your girlfriend," you agreed with him.

but there's no worse lie than the one we tell ourselves, you realised too late.

hoshina soshiro took you to dates almost every weekend although he is also almost always late. but you guess being one of the highest-ranking official in an anti-kaiju division burdens him with a heavier obligation than the rest of the officers so you did what a good girlfriend would do: you tried to understand his situation and offered him comfort whenever you catch him overly stressed or fatigued in his tasks. "i'll make it up to you," he would promise, and you would kiss him on the lips.

but after a while he stopped asking you out entirely, blaming it to his busy schedule - and yours - and a month after that, you would see hoshina soshiro only when there are inter-division conferences. narumi gives you his ugliest frowns everytime he spots the vice-captain walking towards you. "get a room," the first division commander rolled his eyes at you and your boyfriend one time.

to be fair, hoshina is good at making you disregard his misgivings. may it be with his tongue or his fingers, even for just a fraction of an hour, you cannot deny that hoshina makes you feel loved and taken care of. hoshina would tell you he loves you and nothing else matters again in your world but those three little words.

you could have perfectly proceeded in your charade of being fine if hoshina only remembered your anniversary. the straw that broke the camel's back, disappointment and frustration and heart wrenching pain consumed you when it came clear to you that hoshina was not planning for some surprise for you after not giving you a single greeting throughout the day - he simply forgot.

"so it skipped you that today's supposed to be our day, but you had time to go to lunch with okonogi," you accused him, feeling a bit guilty that you are involving another person in the argument. the trip to tachikawa base was not short, and your muscles are already killing you, but you made the effort to see hoshina in hopes you can salvage the occasion. the guilt died down after several seconds when hoshina replied.

"how is okonogi-chan a part of this?" he defended her. it did not escape you how he seemed to not be answering you at all.

"okonogi-chan?" you mocked hoshina. "jesus, i am so tired of this!" you did not recognise the sound of your voice when you shouted. "i - i know what i signed up for when i compromised with you, soshiro. you said duties first, i just did not expect i would be at the bottom of the things you care about. that's if i was even in that list at all."

"that's not fair -"

"what's not fair," you gritted your teeth, "is that you keep treating me like shit." you held back your tears; you refused to cry in front of hoshina - you had already given him the power to hurt you, it would have been to much handing him the knowledge that what is happening is effectively breaking you from you within. softly, you determined to get the bottom of things - fuck your dignity, the most you can get from this scenario is hoshina's honesty. "do you still love me?"

"you know i do," he declared too quickly. hoshina strode towards you, crossing the three, four feet distance to reach you. grabbing your cold hands and attempting to cradle it with his own warm ones, hoshina looked sincere and sorry, and you regret that you cannot for the life of you remember the last time he was this tender with you.

"actually i don't." you did not know how you're supposed to bridge the sea between you and hoshina as you withdrew your clammy hands from his touch. you chose to ignore the sudden sadness that crossed his face when you stepped away from him.

the loud ring of the alarm announcing a kaiju attack echoed in your ears. "i have to go, we'll talk more later," hoshina offered, his stare at you was surely meant to glue you in your spot but you did not let it so. "i love you."

"no, wait." you are a defense officer, and a good one at that, and you thankfully did not have to remind the third division vice-captain of that. "i'm going with you." even on the verge of heartbreak, your response is to stand beside hoshina. you almost winced at the implication.

you did not wait for his approval. narumi will be pissed, he joked after seeing you in a battle suit, helping you out a bit as you pick your weapon of choice. "hey." his grip on your elbow distracted you. "be careful out there," he whispered.

bodies break in the strangest of ways, you found out while fighting a considerable strong honju alone in the sector where you were assigned. you weren't officially in the area to be on duty, and protocol says you cannot be under hoshina's command so you had to be borrowed as a back-up to another platoon. your tenure and experience could easily place you as a team leader, that is why you were confident to face a number of those monstrous creatures at once. that is until the suit you were wearing - just a spare one that hasn't been used yet by a recruit - overheated.

"retreat to somewhere safe," you heard hoshina in your in-ear comms, out of breath. "that's an order." you wanted to assert that he isn't really your commanding officer, that he is not upon him to command you in any way but air feels like liquid in your lungs, the exhaustion catching up to you. in a minute or two the suit will lose its integrity after overheating, and you will be vulnerable to attacks of even the smallest yojus. "stay there and i'll send someone -"

you hoped you were not making a habit of interrupting hoshina as you mustered your strength to speak in a firm sentence - "the mission, is to neutralise the kaiju, sir." you screwed your eyes shut, ignoring the searing sensation of the wound in your shoulder.

throwing caution in the wind, hoshina did not relent. "i will come get you."

"soldiers first, soshiro." the static in your in-ear comms was deafening after you had called the vice-captain by his given name, and knowing that whatever you say will be broadcasted to the other officers, you continued. "to hell with what happens to us, right?"

you couldn't say you recall what happened next. dizzying darkness claimed you as your suit gave out, your combat release putting your body to too much pressure. when you came to consciousness, it was at a hospital - in a white room too big to cater to only one patient. tubes were attached to you, needles poking at the delicate vein in your wrist. it hurts to move, it hurts to discover you woke up alone.

the hours passed, each tick of the hands of the clock racing against your own thoughts. a nurse found you awake while in a roaming duty, and alerted the doctor. it was not after that when you saw hoshina again.

"how are you feeling?" you could sense his awkwardness from across the room. you saw his hesitation to come close to you; you cannot decided whether to feel satisfied that he seems to be in pain seeing you like this.

"i can't do this anymore, soshiro." your throat was dry from not speaking in ages, and your words sounded hoarse, as if you had to scrape yourself for them. "i almost died, and i can't do this anymore."

a piece of you wanted for him to tell you to shut up.

"i could have died, and you weren't there. and my god, this entire time i had to assess if i am just selfish, or greedy, and i know there are people to save, but soshiro, it's tiring to be the one who loves the other more," you exclaimed. "maybe it's my mistake that i am in a relationship with the third division's vice-captain but i fell in love with hoshina soshiro."

"i'm sorry." you didn't miss the slight tremble in hoshina's voice, and your chest tightened because after everything, he couldn't say you what you needed to hear.

"i would have died trying to save you, you know," you added weakly.

"i'm sorry," he repeated like a chant, like some mantra that would cure everything damaged for you and for him.

"me too," you replied, because there was nothing else left to say.

[randomsufff]

Ok idk how to start this but, DBH fandom- there should be more Connor and Simon friendship fics.

Like- don’t get me wrong I love all the fics where Connor joins the Jeri-crew but, for some reason, I feel like Post-Deviant Connor would really get along with Simon specifically . I tried to think of a reason why (other than bc they’re my two favorite characters) and I think it’s because they’re so similar- but also like… ever so slightly diffrent.

They both (again- thinking Deviant Connor) care about others and are nice, and have a placid, intentional innocent look about them (Simon cause he’s a caretaker android and Connor cause he said it was to appeal to others) and yet they’re both incredibly stubborn and very much capable of violence. However, I think Simon tends to see violence as a very, very last resort while I feel like Connor would be a little more quick to resorting to violence if the situation warrants it.

And Simon is capable of violence! He’s a stubborn piece of shit about his ideals! Side rant bout Simon’s fandom characterization; despite how he’s sometimes depicted- Simon is not some “soft UwU boy who stumbles over his words constantly (EspEciAlly if MARKUS is around hu hu hu *wink wink*) and likes to take care of everyone ✨ by being an overbearing, smothering mother ” (I hate when he’s reduced down to that) Just because he’s nice and empathetic doesn’t mean he’s a weak, push over. I mean, hell, dude kept Jericho standing for who knows how many years. He had to insist AND UPHOLD the rule that they don’t leave the ship. Dude straight up wields a gun and kills people if you go the violent route. He obviously doesn’t like it- and any times he promoted to hurt people it usually fails (Thinking of trying to attack the first 2 guards at Stanford or taking the L during the March) but he does it if he’s pushed into it! And he’s headstrong too! Not some weakling who can’t think for himself. Just because he follows Markus’ ruling- dosent mean he’s some pathetic simp who’s only doing it cause it Markus the one who saying it (ok maybe it’s a little bit that- but he’s their leader! He calls the big shots. No duh he’s going to do as he says because he’s the one who gets final say!) I’m pretty sure if you choice the violent route he’ll push back at every turn and he’s soooooooo snappy to the others if Markus is kicked off cause he really thought he would help them. And while I know there are some great , 3D interpretations of Simon- there are quite a bit that, while not to the extreme that I said, tend to flatten Simon to either being just “caring” or “anxious”. And while a lot of his character is caring and anxious, it’s not ALL of it, and there’s that whole other side to him that you’re missing!!! Give him a mf backbone!

Anyway rant over, why Simon specifically as a friend and not the others- well I feel like Simon’s the type of guy who is so easy to befriend and get along with. He’s also, as I mentioned before this long rant, very similar to Connor in personality. Being split between his Machine coding and new Deviancy- I feel like Simon’s also the perfect middle to comfort him and be the friend that man desperately needs.

I don’t know how to explain why I feel this, genuinely! In my opinion/hc, I feel like after the revelation and everything, if Connor were to go back up to the Jeri-crew and try to befriend them: North might try to make niceties since he helped them in the end, but it’ll take a whillllleeee and a lot of effort to break down her defenses. Josh and Markus will try harder to be friendly, but ultimately treat it very businesslike and orderly- cause to them, Connor was more like an ally they gained in the heat of battle then a friend they made. Contrary to belief I feel like Markus wouldn’t extent an offer for Connor to join their crew as one of the leaders. He’s literally an outsider who BROKE in. He had to talk him through breaking his deviancy so he wouldn’t shoot him. He joined the cause at the very, very end. If anything, he’d see Connor as one among the many of their people who helped fight for their freedom (similar to the guy you turn in the Cyberlife supply run)- not a personal, close friend. And Josh, though not thinking of Connor as “one of his people” cause he’s not the head leader, still wouldn’t exactly be eager to befriend Connor. I feel like Josh’s pacifism and Connor’s ruthlessness would clash too much? Sure they’d hang out- but it more of a surface level friendship where’d the offer to grab a metaphorical drink or something is made but never really followed up on. But Simon- if anything I feel like Simon would be the one to check up on Connor and see how he’s doing. Having being deviant the longest, and therefore the wisest and more in tune with his feelings, I think Simon would emphasize and understand the chaotic circumstances of his awakening and try to befriend him genuinely.

All this to say- I need more Connor and Simon being friends. I need Simon to be friends with Connor separately from the group (Cause let’s be honest- he’s so sick of North and Joshs content fighting on that ship bro needs a not of a break). I need them to be kind to each other but also have a snarky, sarcastic relationship, where they both can give as much as they can take. I needed this so bad, I’ve actually come up with a little fic idea for how this supposed friendship would start.

And because this post is already so long- I’m putting it under the cut- but here’s the tagline- Connor and Simon befriend each other but the whole world thinks they’re dating (and they’re really, really not)

So it’s set after the Pacifist and Deviant Connor ending. The Jericho 4 has spread out to tackle the post- revolution issues. Markus and North head to DC to tackle the law making side, Josh travels out around the state/ to nearby cities to set up and help other Deviants while Simon stays in Detroit to help those there.

Simon- being lowkey sad and lost that his teammates spread out, head out for a walk in the snowy dark at like 3am. He’s not exactly a leader in the way Markus is, so he’s struggling with all the attention and pressure it takes to essentially govern a whole city of people. Of course he’s also feeling a bit lonely since everyone there treats him like a god or celebrity. Sure the little gang that he “lead” before Markus is close with him but they’re all out exploring their new freedom. And of the few new androids friends that he’s made, there’s always that feeling of never being able to truly connect with him- some wall he can’t quite break.

While he’s walking he stumbles upon Connor- sitting in the park, Sumo in hand, very lost in thought. Having never interacted much during or even after the whole revolution (since there was so much to do immediately) Simon tentatively walks up and says hi, asks what he’s doing out here at 3am. Gets asked the same thing, and eventually said be needed to clear his head with Connor relating. Eventually it’s revealed that Connor’s also feeling lost and lonely, being the only deviant to stay with the police department. Took a lot of fighting in between Hank and Fowler but eventually he was able to join as a consultant? Some other volunteer position cause he can’t technically get paid (and if he did- what would he spend it on? The food he dosent need to eat? At the abandoned Cyberlife store whose supplied are already being ransacked and distributed?) for now. He generally just hangs around the department with Hank for lack of anything better to do (for those of y’all who watched it- think of Psych with Connor as Shawn Spencer [now isn’t THAT a fic idea]). Not everyone is exactly friendly to him there, and it’s awkward to him to try to be friends with those who saw him as his machine, deviant-hunting self. Also Deviant Connor is socially aware and thus socially awkward so he’s not great at making friends- deviant or human wise.

Bla bla bla- after passing back and forth woes- Simon’s like: “you know what- you’re cool, let’s be friends- it’ll solve both our loner problems.” Very straightforward. Connor’s agrees agreeing stating the mutual benefits (getting to rant about android related problems/ general frustrations and being able to go out somewhere with someone when bored.)

They exchange com-links or numbers or whatever and it’s the start of a great friendship as they get into situations. The media eventually think Simon and Connor are dating cause they hang out so much and it’s the talk of all the media sources. They aren’t and never will (in my head at least- Connor my aroace icon. But this could also be a perfect Connor/Simon fic if that’s your thing) but despite that they keep getting into situations that make it look like they are. It’s very funny. Like Hank will be like “CONNOR! Are you dating…. one of the brutal leaders… of Jericho???” And Connor will be like- “No, Hank wtf” but then immediately accidentally fall into Simon’s arms after stumbling and they’re both like “Fucking RA9, we’re never beating these dating allegations huh.”

This could be a Gen Connor and Simon character study that’s disguised as a fic- but as a Markus/Simon girlie- to make it Markus/Simon- throw in Markus being lowkey jealous as he gets word of this- eventually deciding to come back to Detroit while North stays in DC after the biggest laws are finished being drafted. Cue funny ha ha situations and such. Personally- I don’t see Markus as being an outwardly, possessive jealous-type (as in- he’s not a guy who likes to admit and show he’s jealous) so his reactions to every new SituationTM Connor and Simon end up in is him going “oh… 😀🧍🫠” which I personally find really funny

Anyways- ending this off by saying I expect nothing by shouting all these fic ideas (and there will probably be more for other fandoms lol) and thoughts into the void- I just like sharing these specific scenarios that I make up cause I think other would like them. So maybe you too can also rotate these situations in your brain before you go to bed 😀👍

[howhow326]

I wanna draw my CtL character concept that I made but college is beating my behind so have his character sheet

Name: Timothy Whistle

Concept: Night-time sound & silence

Virtue: Prudence

Vice: Sloth

Seeming: Darkling

Kith: Nightsinger

Court: Winter

Backstory: Timothy is 18 year old highschool student that plays the Flute but is unsure of his actual skill. His Parents and band mates think he's fine, but he is thinking of quiting before college so he can major in science. A few months before graduation, maybe the night before a concert, Timothy decides to practice his Flute outside during the night. Worst mistake of his life. He dosen't know what rule he broke. Maybe he was playing too loud, or maybe he shouldn't have been playing on the night of the full moon. But one way or another, Timothy was taken by a Kindly One that fiercely punishes rule-breakers. For the crime of whatever, Timothy was to live in a land of Nightmares and play the music of the night. He dosen't know how long he was sitting on a tree branch playing wind howls and screams on his flute, or who heard him. But he does know that he plaued so long that his actual flute broke. He knew that not playing more night-time sounds would be another rule broken, another punishment, another place to be spirited away too that would scare him witless. But he could not, would not, do that again... So Timothy screamed at the top of his longs, creating the same horrifying sounds that his keeper obeyed him to. Timothy could have been stuck there forever, but a single flicker of light made him wake up: a vision of him playing a song of hope and joy made him remeber who he used to be. As strangely as he arrived, Timothy snuck his way out of that land of Nightmares and into the Hedge. But as his hope grew, so did his despair. Timothy's body had long ago merged with the shadows of the night, turning him from Tan to VantaBlack. Even worst, Timothy's mouth had disappeared, as if all the singing and screeching had allowed the darkness to convert it to nothingness. Timothy wanted to scream... and he did. Just as the darkness had followed him, so too did the music of the night. Timothy was forever silent, and silence was loud enough to be his new voice. Eventually, Timothy finnaly made his way back home, but home had changed. As if he couldn't be punished enough, a copy had taken his place during his months long durance. His only imperfection was that he was too perfect: a perfect student, a perfect friend, and a perfect musician. Timothy's parents believed that he had overcome his self-doubt and realized his inner talent, while the real Timothy stared at them through a window. The copy was so perfect that not even Timothy could bring himself to hate him, because Timothy could feel everything he felt and learned that he was pure. Before he could fall into a pit and never return, the Winter Court found him. Now a member, Timothy must somehow reclaim his old life without hurting his innocent fetch, despite the Court wanting him dead.

                                  Attributes

Intelligence●●●●○ Strength●○○○○

Wits●●●○○ Dexterity●●●○○

Resolve●○○○○ Stamina●●○○○

Presence●○○○○

Manipulation●●○○○

Composure●●●●○

Size: 5

Health: 7

Speed: 9

Willpower: 5

Max Clarity: 7

Glamour: 10

Wyrd: 1

Initiative: 7

Defense: 3

                                    Skills

Academics●●○○○

Computer ●○○○○

Crafts ●○○○○

Investigation ●○○○○

Occult ●●○○○

Science ●●●●○

Stealth ●●●●○

Animal kin ●○○○○

Empathy ●●○○○

Expression ●○○○○

Subterfuge ●●●○○

                                  Merits

Mantle (Winter)

Harvest●(Emotions)●(Dreaming)

Hedge Gate Sense●

Hollow●

Perfect Stillness●

Siren Song●●●

Soul Sense●●

                                  Flaws

Coward

Nightmares

                              Contracts

Contract of Elements(Air)●●●

Contracts of Darkness●●●

Contracts of Eternal Winter●

[nerdlvr]

damn your friends for being broke, damn them for taking those extra shifts at the clinic, and damn them for being right about mark lee being a good distraction. it's not that you had begun to like mark but you'd like to call it maybe the start of a friendship. the main issue with him was the intolerable noise that he made next door, and thank god to his crush, those noises had stopped, so truthfully nothing was holding you back from being nice to him now.

that's why even though romeo, well longlee now, had just made you feel like an idiot, it wouldn't hurt to go and spend time with a friend, even if it was mark lee. so you slipped on some pajama shorts and the hoodie that mark had gifted you, confidently walking up to his door and knocking loudly.

your confidence lasted approximately 10 seconds as the door opened revealing a surprisingly very hot mark lee. okay, you're not blind, of course mark has always been attractive, but right now, basketball shorts and a white tank top, hair still wet from the shower, mark looked beyond attractive. you cleared your throat hoping mark hadn't caught you gawking at him, but when you looked up at him, his smug smile spoke for itself.

"enjoying the view?"

you snapped out of your haze, rolling your eyes at his question.

"in your dreams lee, now let me in it's chilly out here."

as you entered mark's living space it was almost exactly what you expected, empty. the walls were bland and white, only a couch and coffee table in his living room, his kitchen basically nonexistent, did he even live here?

"stop judging, this areas for my one night stands only, nothing special."

you shivered, this was where he made all that disgusting noise. no wonder it was so loud! his living room wall was the one connected to your room! wait he wasn't expecting you to sit on that couch, god knows what has been done on that couch. you swallowed hard preparing yourself to sit in an area that could've touched mark lee's bare ass.

"fortunately for you, we're not gonna be spending time here, come, follow me."

he reached for your hand, pulling you away from the living room. thank the heavens, you weren't going to be sitting anywhere near where mark does the deed, but wait, where was he taking you? your eyes widen as you realized he was dragging you into his room. you snatched your hand away taking a few steps back,

"no way i'm going into your bedroom mark lee, who knows what goes on in there!"

he chuckled at your reaction, holding his hands up defensively,

"i have a 'no girls' policy for my room, it's 100% sex free, promise!"

he stuck his pinky out towards you, attempting to seal the promise. why is he letting you into his room then, he must really like this girl if he's breaking his 'no girls' rule just to get some romance tips. you swatted his hand away,

"fine, but you try anything and i'll kill you, i know how to fight mark lee!"

he grabbed your hand again dragging you through the doorway of his room,

"sure sure, whatever you say y/n. see? perfectly normal room."

mark's room was the exact opposite of what you had just seen. it was simple yes, but it felt warm. the lights were dimmed, and his curtains were wide open showing an amazing view of the city, maybe you should open your curtain more often, but what really caught your eye was the desk in front of his bed.

there was a huge monitor sitting in the middle of the desk, a picture of him and his friends as the screensaver, with 2 large speakers on each side of it. he had 3 pairs of headphones lying around, and a shelf above the monitor with little action figures he seemed to have been collecting throughout the years. next to his desk was the most beautiful guitar you'd ever seen, black with a large flower carved into it's side.

you walked towards it, crouching to get a better look,

"can i touch it?"

mark rushed to your side, grabbing the guitar,

"uh yeah, here, come sit, and i'll put it on your lap."

you complied sitting on his bed, feeling the weight of the guitar as he placed it on your lap, you ran your fingers through the carved design,

"it was my mom's, it's a lily, the flower, they're her favorites."

he smiled to himself, watching as you inspected the guitar,

"oh mark, i'm sorry, i didn't know, about your mom i mean."

you got up to put the guitar away, feeling like you were holding something a little too personal to mark's,

"what? OH, no no! my mom's not dead, she's just overseas, she gave me the guitar before she went away!"

he helped you put the guitar back in it's stand, laughing nervously at the misunderstanding. you reached up to slap his arm, making him flinch

"stop talking about your mom like that! you're gonna make people think she's dead!"

you backed away from mark choosing to sit back down on his bed. he scratched the back of his neck,

"i mean, i don't usually talk about my mom to people, sooo..."

you smiled to yourself, glad he was beginning to feel comfortable around you, wait why were you glad? one heartbreak from a guy you've never seen and you're starting to smile at the idea of mark lee?

"well, since we're opening up then, i've had a pretty shit day."

he sat on the bed next to you,

"wanna talk about it?"

"hmm maybe after a couple drinks, you got any tequila?"

he snorted, shocked by you request,

"your day was that bad?"

you pursed your lips, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding,

"lets just say, today's lesson is: what not to do if you wanna win over your crush."

𖦹 .ᐣ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ cryptic crush — [20] rizz

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notes : haha what were the flowers that mark failed to give y/n... we should've know y/n drunk flashing was gonna catch up to her

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[gardenattwilight]

One of my stories just reached 10k hits on Ao3! Hers some NSFW notes app Drabble in celebration! Thank you for reading!!!

~~~

“This is breaking quite a few school rules…” Hermione’s looked at her friends, uneasy. “It’s only our first night back.”

“It’s our last year,” Ginny waved her brows, “We have to say yes to everything!”

“Why would that be it?” hermione crossed her arms, unsure.

“Because we’ll never get to have this year again,” she sighed. “We’ll graduate, I’ll marry Harry and you’ll work things out with my idiot brother and then life will be boring. This is the only time the two of us will get to experience things just us,” she gave Hermione puppy dog eyes.

“What about me?” Neville asked.

“You’ll be there too,” Ginny patted him in the shoulder then gave Hermione a look, “For some of it.”

The three of them were meeting up with Luna, Hannah Abbott, and a bunch of the other 7th and 8th year students. They made their way to the Room of Requirement. As soon as the doors appeared they could hear the beat of the music.

“We can do this Hermione,” Ginny told her. “It’s going to be fun.”

Hermione looked at Neville who met her gaze before getting distracted by the approaching girls. He smiled goofily at Hannah.

“Hello, Hermione,” Luna smiled, “I hope there’s firewhiskey. I’ve developed quite the taste over the summer.”

“Hello, Luna,” she smiled, “I’m sure there will be.”

The group entered and were welcomed by nearly every single 7th and 8th year. Even the Slytherins were here.

Hermione took note of a grinning Blaise Zabini in the corner. He was with Pansy, Theo, and Draco Malfoy. They were sharing a bottle of something that looked expensive.

She followed Ginny to get a drink and tried her best to push through the anxiety that clouded her mind.

Their group broke apart and Hermione scanned the room for someone she could talk to. This was a nightmare. Maybe she should just go stand next to Ginny while she talks quidditch.

Hermione settled on chatting with Dean Thomas who was currently chatting away about his summer. He spoke mostly about Seamus, who was currently in Ireland working with their local Ministry on defense projects.

Ginny came over to chat with Dean about the quidditch season, so Hermione wandered over to Luna. Luna was talking animatedly to Hannah while Neville looked around uncomfortably.

“Alright, Neville?” Hermione asked politely.

“Just wondering how all the Slytherins got an invite,” Neville glanced over to the group.

Hermione shrugged, “I’m sure someone was just trying to be inclusive. We’re gonna be with them all year.”

It was Neville’s turn to shrug. “They shouldn’t have been invited back.”

“I’m sure they’re all trying to turn over a new leaf,” Hermione said.

“A Ministry assigned leaf maybe,” Neville murmured.

“I’m sure the Ministry thought it better to reintegrate them into society now, we’re all still children,” Hermione said.

“Actually, most of us are 18,” Neville said. Hermione playfully rolled her eyes.

“Barely not children,” she said with a small smile.

Neville turned his body away from the group they were talking about. “Hopefully they stay far away.”

After that, Hermione went to go get herself another drink. She needed the alcohol to dull her senses to the rest of the party.

“Hermione,” Ginny grabbed her elbow when she was back at the drink table.

“What?”

“I’m going to force you to do something.”

Hermione looked at Ginny like she had three heads, “Not likely.”

“They’re playing Blindfold Bastille,” Ginny told her, “You’re joining.”

“What is that?”

“Do you know nothing?” Ginny chuckled, “All the players wear magic blindfolds and get sorted into private areas with another player.”

“Like seven minutes in heaven?”

“What?”

“Never mind,” she shook her head, “I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“So you’ll play?” Ginny grinned.

“And no one will know who I wind up with?”

“Not unless you tell,” Ginny smirked, “You can do whatever you want.”

Ginny’s smile was far too big for Hermione to feel comforted. The redhead grabbed her hand and she allowed herself to be dragged.

“When this is securely on,” Ginny handed her a blindfold, “You’ll be shown the room to apparate into.”

“Okay,” Hermione nodded taking a final look at her friend.

“Remember: have fun,” she smirked. Hermione took a deep breath. “Fun, Hermione.”

“Fun,” she nodded.

She exhaled as she put the blindfold on. She saw an image of an abandon classroom on the third floor. She’d been there once before. She repeated the word fun to herself over and over and apparated to the room.

Right after she landed she heard another crack in the room. She took a breath before removing her blindfold. When she did, she was staring at the bright silver eyes of Draco Malfoy.

She could have laughed. So much for fun. Of course she’d be paired with the one wizard who’d rather die than kiss her.

“Granger,” he nodded his head toward her.

“Malfoy,” she responded.

“Are you having a nice night?” He asked.

“I guess,” she pursed her lips.

“Hopefully this surprise didn’t damper it too much,” he said quietly.

“No,” she shook her head, “I just didn’t expect to see you.”

“I can’t say I’m any less surprised,” he gave her a small smile.

“Do you know how the magic works in the blindfolds?” She asked. He raised an eyebrow and took a timid step towards her.

“Is that really what you’re curious about?” He chuckled.

“I mean, of course,” she shrugged. He took another step toward her. “Of all the people.”

“Growing up, I was told that it matches you to your equal,” Draco told her.

“So it doesn’t take in preference?”

“Preference?”

“I mean, I doubt you wanted to find yourself in here with a Muggleborn,” she gestured to herself. “Or are we still using the word mudblood?”

“We’re not,” Draco gave her a pointed look. “I don’t care about your blood status, Granger.”

“That’s new,” Hermione quipped. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you think I would’ve left by now?”

“No, you always liked to spar,” she raised an eyebrow, “So who’d you get paired with growing up?” She couldn’t stop herself.

“I’ve never played before,” he shook his head, a small smile at his lips.

“Why play tonight?” She asked.

“Blaise convinced me,” he told her. “What about you?”

“I’ve also never played, so Ginny convinced me,” she nodded.

“How’d she do that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“We’re saying yes to more things this year,” she told him. “She told me no one would know and that this would be fun.”

“And are you having fun?” He took another step.

She teetered her head and gave him a playful look, “It certainly hasn’t been dull.”

“No, it hasn’t,” he agreed.

“How did Blaise convince you?” She asked politely.

“Also by telling me to try new things this year,” he said, “He specifically told me to try to not get hexed.”

“Had I know that I would’ve at least tried to stun you,” she smirked.

“I would’ve let you,” he said.

“Let me?” She quirked an eyebrow. “Ginny told me whatever happens is between us, but does that include a duel?”

“Anything you want, Granger,” he chuckled and they looked at each other for a moment. “I feel like now an an appropriate time to formerly apologize to you. I’m sorry for what happened at the Manor. And, I was wrong to call you vile names and I regret that I’ve ever said anything negative about your appearance,” he held his hands open, “You’re fit. I was an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“I’m fit?”

Draco flushed. “I mean, well-“

“I think you’re fit too,” she told him, thankful for the liquid courage she’d been consuming.

“Yeah?” He gave her a suggestive look. “Granger?”

“Hmm?” Her eyes bore into his.

“Do you want to have some fun?” He asked lowly. She nodded slowly and he closed the space between them.

When he was mere centimeters from her, he paused. Maybe she was too drunk; only agreeing because of the firewhiskey.

Similarly, Hermione could smell the alcohol on his hot breath on her face. She looked up at him, he returned her stare. Was this a mistake? It’s Draco Malfoy…

“Is this going to be a mistake?” She whispered.

“What happened to your Gryffindor courage?” He breathed.

“I must’ve left it in the Room of Requirement,” she breathed. He could taste it. Maybe snogging Draco would be nice… maybe more than nice. A dirty little secret. What would she tell Ginny?

Draco had to actively work against his instinct to bury his face in her neck in order to pull back slightly. “This is whatever you want it to be, Granger.”

“Just between us?” She checked.

“Of course,” the corner of his mouth turned up, “S’not like anyone would believe us anyways.”

“Do you believe it?” Her eyes flashed.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he raised a brow. Hermione replied with a small smirk.

“Then I’ll show you,” she whispered, moving her head in slightly, her eyes trained on his lips.

Draco was frozen in his spot. His eyes fluttered shut as Hermione’s lips found his.

He quickly unfroze as she moved her lips against his.

He responded by wrapping his arms around her, one of his hands quickly going to the back of her hair. Her curls were soft and not the nest he once thought them to be.

One of Hermione’s small hands was gripping the front of his robes, her other was in his hair, pulling his face to hers. His hair was silky and if she gave it a tug, Draco would release a soft moan. She loved hearing him.

Draco pulled Hermione by the waist, sitting her on one of the tables so he wouldn’t have to bend over her. Hermione giggled as he lifted her effortlessly. Draco kissed a line across her jaw.

Hermione took a ragged breath. Her eyes opened to look at the ceiling for a moment as Draco ravaged her neck.

Draco worked his way back to her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed again as Draco cupped her face. “Should we stop?” He asked.

“Do you want to stop?” She opened her eyes and gave him a questioning look.

“No,” he breathed. Their lips met again. Hermione pushed her chest into his.

She slipped her hands down his neck, slipping off his robes. His hands went to her waist, his thumbs skimming over her exposed midriff. Heat began to pool in her core.

Standing between her legs, Draco experimentally pushed his hips into hers. She immediately wrapped her legs around the back of his thighs. Draco groaned. As their hips rocked together, Hermione moaned at the feeling of his erection pressed against her core. Heat intensifying through the layers of fabric that separated them.

One of Draco’s hands slid over her chest and she arched into his touch. She wasn’t even sure she was controlling her body’s reactions.

Just as his fingers began to slide up her jumper, a loud alarm made them both jump apart.

“I think that means our time is done,” Hermione panted. She sat up and smoothed out her clothes.

“We are definitely not done, Granger,” Malfoy growled.

“Everyone will be returning,” she told him.

“Meet me back here. In an hour,” he moved to stand back in front of her.

“What about tomorrow?” She offered instead.

“Fine,” he nodded once, “We’ll meet at 8. Don’t make any more plans for the evening.”

Hermione flushed at his demand. “Alright,” she said.

Draco moved his head to kiss her again and she reciprocated it. He cupped her face with one hand. She placed hers on top of it and they pulled apart.

“Have fun?” He asked softly.

She smiled and nodded at him, “Definitely wasn’t dull.”

[ahomeganeyatsu]

So, it's been some time since I last wrote something for Eleceed so here I am again on my bs after catching up on the chapters.

After Amyeong and Royst appearance, the thought of an ABO au with omega Kayden has once again forced itself at the forefront of my thoughts. I've talked about some of my hcs in these posts under the tag #eleceed abo 'verse.

I'm gonna put a everything else under the cut as a spoiler warning in case you're not familiar with those names!

Aaanyways, so it's been stated that a lot of people wanted to be Kayden's disciple ever since his name made waves. Jisuk mentions how having a electric characteristic even became a fad among the awakened ones in order to imitate Kayden. So far, we only have Amyeong and Royst that actually sought out Kayden and asked to be his disciple. And both of them got rejected.

But like I said, this is an ABO 'verse.

So, imagine if they're not only attracted to Kayden's strength but they're actually pretty much half in love with him. Amyeong and Royst had both wanted to be his disciple, but had also dreamt of bonding with Kayden. And Kayden both broke their hearts.

They didn't really care what his designation was. And it was only by accident that they even found out he was an omega.

He had been at least gentle (in Kayden's own way) in his rejection of Amyeong. He had been thankful that he got to stay by Kayden's side for some time. Even if his status as his disciple was one-sided.

It hadn't been the same with Royst. Not when Kayden had told him to get lost. And Royst had carried that rejection ever since.

Amyeong

Amyeong's first meeting with Jiwoo hadn't been pleasant. He was jealous. No matter what front he put up, it leaked through his defenses. What did Jiwoo possess that he didn't? What made him different that Kayden had broken his own self-imposed rule of not taking a disciple? He had expected someone intimidating. Someone that could rival Kayden's own presence. Maybe he even expected an omega as strong-headed as Kayden. But no, it's an Alpha. A baby Alpha, in fact. Barely out of maturity you could still scent the traces of pup on him. He was so kind and sweet it made Amyeong's teeth hurt. He can't fucking believe this.

Except Jiwoo was completely covered in Kayden's scent. A pack scent. A claiming Amyeong had never had the pleasure of knowing. Until now. It made Amyeong angrier. He loathed this child for having something, taking something he'd always wanted: Kayden.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to kill him. Not when he begins to understand why Kayden chose this kid. He has to admit defeat there.

He also reminds him of someone else. Someone he owes a debt towards.

It takes him some time to realize why that is. A familiar scent, so faint, you could barely detect it even when you try looking for it.

He can't begin to understand how that feels, for a parental bond to be so faded. It must have been painful for both of them.

He wonders if that had been a factor to why Kayden had pack bonded the kid.

Royst

Royst, on the other hand, had been dying to meet Jiwoo.

The moment his master told him about Kayden taking in a disciple. Royst had to restrain himself from running there that very instant.

Then, that Grayne kid came crawling back to their base with his tail between his legs, bleeding and smelling of frustration and anger.

Royst was intrigued. So, goes to the World Academy.

He feels his nose twitch when he catches a whiff of Kayden's dangerous, intoxicating scent. It's been years since he'd last been this close to the man. He's still beautiful. His gaze sharp enough to cut steel, Royst has to rein in his instincts not to pounce.

Especially when he catches another scent clinging onto the man. He keeps the snarl at bay. An Alpha. Two of them, in fact. One mature, while the other was still growing into its own skin.

He tries to keep his composure as he follows Kayden.

And then the scents grow stronger as they get close to their destination.

One of the scents belong to Jiwoo. Understandable, as proximity could do that. But it does not explain the undercurrent of pack. It's a claiming no one has been able to put on Kayden.

It's even more astounding that the bond is mutual. Kayden and his disciple where pack. This baby Alpha was Kayden's pup. Royst feels something in him stir.

He wants to ruin this boy. He wants to spill his blood and watch Kayden as he guts this—his—puppy in front of him.

The jealousy burns. The envy nearly all-consuming. This pup had gotten what Royst had been coveting for years.

The other unfamiliar Alpha was here too. But there was no one around Royst can pin it too. He shouldn't have taken his eyes away from Kayden. No other Alpha should be that close to him. No other Alpha should lay claim to him.

When Amyeong had appeared, he had thought this mutt had been the one drenching Kayden in his repugnant pheromones. But no, he was familiar with Amyeong. Even concealed, he could tell this claim was not his.

In the end, Royst doesn't learn who it is. He just knows that it's also clinging to Jiwoo and that malnourished cat that was hanging around them.

Royst had made it his goal to find out who the Alpha was and show them who exactly Kayden belongs to.

[dailytatsu]

Hello! I saw request were open so i was wondering if i could request some headcanons of the Archons and/or the Adepti meeting a God reader who is the God of Chaos and destruction. The reader is not a Archon tho and travels all over Teyvat cuz small bits of destruction were ever they go. They're pretty mischievous and somewhat smug but despite how they act they're actually a good person. They dont mean to cause problems(most of the time anyways) chaos follows them were ever they go. Idk if you have a character limit but if you do please tell me so i wont make a mistake again. And if there is you can just do Zhongli and Xiao. Optionally could you make them a dendro user, there not a lot of dendro content and if not thats fine. I understand. Could you make the reader Gn or Non-binary they/them pronouns please? If not male reader is totally fine. Im so sorry for the long post and I hope you have a good day/night!

Ohmy, it’s my first time just writing headcanons! I’m use to write a lot, so let’s hope I did it right (^ ^' )7

Thanks for the request! ✨

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[HC] God of Chaos! Reader and the Archons + Xiao

Characters: Zhongli, Xiao, Venti, Shogun Raiden (Ei).

Gn! Reader

I tried doing it with everyone but I’m no still that confident to try writing with some characters ＿|￣|○

Sorry for any mistakes!

Request are open!

Genshin Masterlist

Second part ->

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VENTI

To be honest, he didn't notice your presence at first. He had other concerns on his mind that day to perceive the chaotic (and slightly threatening) aura that Mondstadt was infected with that day.

Barbatos is a person of habit, so he couldn't help but be curious when the crowd in front of him began to look a little agitated instead of seeming to enjoy his lyre and his songs.

But then a series of domino events appeared in front of his very eyes.

The purity of the chaos was such that he felt overwhelmed, even without the white-haired boy around, if it wasn’t Bennett fault, then how was it possible for everything to be ruined in such a short time?

His patience ended when, out of nowhere, the strings of his lyre jumped close to his face as they snapped. Making that awful noise that couldn’t mean nothing good.

Okay, enough, who is messing around in here? No more joking in his nation!

He concentrated a little, a faint but unique presence kept his nerves on edge, as if he was being watched from afar. He moved away from the busy areas and then chased that ephemeral energy to the highest point of the church, where the bells were ringing in an irregular and stressful way.

Then he found you. Snoozing against one of the columns, somewhat tired because the trip you made to reach Mondstadt.

Surprisingly, Barbatos understood you since the first exchange of words. A god of chaos who was also a free spirit, you followed no rules ever written in Teyvat, and you had no plans to apologize for the mess you made.

Both of you were Zhongli’s worst nightmare, but that’s another story.

He managed to through your arrogance and your teasing nature that you, in fact, were a lonely spirit that liked to witness the life from above of everyone.

The difference between teasing someone accidentally and committing a crime was really visible, but he still couldn't help but feel like he should scold you after your mere presence messed up with the guild's baskets full of fish.

But hey! He also enjoy the company! Venti tried to teach you how to enjoy the calm and the whisper of wind, music can also contain chaos, feelings, old stories waiting to be told again, expressions and desire united, in a wonderful piece of-

As you yawned his lyre broke up again. Making clear the message.

Okay, not even God of Freedom and Wind can control chaos. Anyways, what a tragedy, but there’s nothing a simple bard can do, smh.

“Do you like kids, don’t you?” He said once, after a nice day of hearing him sing before your chaos reached his little concert. Again watching everyone from above on the hands of the statue, with your attention caught by some kids playing tag.

“… I don’t know what do you mean.” Once discovered you had no choice but to remain defensive, pretending to be disinterested.

“Heh, you aren’t a good liar.” It may not be the wisest thing to make fun of someone who could destroy the place where you were resting, but Venti was confident that he knew you well enough to know that you were not so explosive. “You know!, I just have some pieces, but I think it’s because they are little walking concentrations of pure and innocent chaos, am I wrong?”

He wasn’t, no at all. But you would never confess something that embarrassing.

This guy wrote a ballad about the days when Mondstadt got immerse with that strike of bad luck. Kind of an apology of not being able to handle the situation.

Now there’s the rumor that says that, every time somebody sings that song, something unlucky will happen in front of you.

The song is cursed.

One night when the moon was shining on the Cider Lake his well tuned ears distinguished a melody that was broken from time to time by the accidents of his performer, distracting him of his way to look for you.

It could be painful to listen to, but Venti could certainly feel the dedication of the one who was playing the imperfect song.

The ballad of the god of chaos, hummed like a lullaby that instead of making you sleep makes you question the events of the day. Wishing for the slightest thing to be different after an exhaustive week of peace and tranquility.

A lonely spirits cursing their existence, sitting in the highest point of a stranger’s palace, where you can reach the sky by only rising your hand.

The next day, Barbatos invited you to drink some wine, this time near Windrise to avoid accidents in the city.

As he almost dropped the bottle when a lot of slimes were attracted by your presence, he confirmed the theory about that the way to spend time with you would not be his personal definition of hanging out.

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ZHONGLI

Okay, there’s only two scenarios that could happened when you set a foot in Liyue.

Old man has a soft spot for you for being a relative young deity.

Or he’s always lecturing you for not having control of your aura and powers.

How u dare bringing chaos to the nation of order? It’s that a death wish?

Jokes aside, you’re not really a threat. And he could sense that after he saw how you tried to avoid having direct contact with the city. Rex Lapis found your silhouette jumping and crossing through the mountains until reaching the fairest point that allowed you to enjoy the view of the streets that were filled with life and light as the sunsets.

He even noticed how you sighed in frustration when a storm started out of nowhere. A rain dedicated just for the arriving of the God of Chaos. Not even bothering of getting shield, you stayed in your place to look at all the people who were getting back to their places.

The rain seemed to stop over your head, for a second was enough to stop you from being cruelly swamped by the very weather you had created. An elegant umbrella covered you, the long awaited surprise you expected from someone as outdated as Morax.

You looked up, and found his expression calm and attentive, watching you. As if he had made a great discovery that he could not believe

“May I have a moment of your time to keep you company? Letting out your sorrows in the middle of a torrential storm is not what I would recommend as way to spend a good day.”

“… What are you talking about? Get in your own business, old man.”

“Well, you should know that a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved.”

Next time you knew was that he was helping you to dry your hair with a towel once you let him guide you to his place.

Zhongli picked you up like a abandoned cat that day. Even if having you near meant to deal with new the roof leaks.

Also kept you away from Hu Tao, if you two ever get along for being partners in crime he would seal himself underground-

For all the time you spend exploring Liyue, there he was. Like a little kid showing his treasures. But also like a worried father looking after his child for them not to stumble making their first steps.

Look at you! Almost crushing those Treasure Hoarders when a bunch of rocks fell down after you jumped at the edge of the cliff.

Wait, no- come back here! You should verify the surroundings and be aware of the weight of your power if you’re going to explore in that bold way. You, chaotic brat.

Another one who believed fervently that your mood was to blame for the constant chaos you caused. He also tried to show you the wonders of peace and calm, teaching you how to prepare tea while listening to the storyteller (also both being a little far away from the rest of them, just in case).

He couldn’t help but sigh when the teapot arm broke as soon as you tried to serve the tea. What a waste, he thought.

You apologized to him, kind of stressed with yourself after you took all the pieces with your bare hands to run away with them. Leaving a confused Zhongli behind.

Next day you were back, with the teapot repaired and just like new.

He let out a lot of thankful words, some flattering and a lot more cheesy things that you never had received before.

With that unexpected affection you couldn’t help but react flustered; then a cat that was chasing a bird jumped through a lot of decorations and merchandise, almost starting a fire as the chained events kept going.

Yeah,, uh, Zhongli got some useful mental notes about you and your chaos that day.

Hey, before you go, want to make a contract? You won’t regret it!

But as the wandering spirit you were you had no problems in reject his offer, but also promising that you would visit Liyue if he wanted you to.

Of course he wanted! But.. maybe next time you should stay in Huaguang Stone Forest instead of roaming near the city,,

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XIAO

Tried to kill you.

I mean, your aura is threatening and full of a destructive energy, how is possible that you weren’t a demon to eradicate??

Sorry, but he had a point.

Your first met was on your way to reach Huaguang Stone Forest along with Zhongli for introduce you with the Adeptus.

Xiao, in the other side, thought that you were about to attack Morax from behind, so he just struck against you. With his polearm near to go through your chest, just stopped because you felt him before.

Lifting your hand at his direction, summoning chaos, this time, on purpose. The wind gained a wrathful nature and the biggest roots that were hiding under his feet rose to caught him.

And when you were about to hit each other Zhongli’s shield appeared just in time to separate both of you. Preventing a real catastrophic event.

Now stop fighting and introduce to each other.

Nice(n’t) to meet u.

What if you tried to awake Azhdaha to bring chaos and destruction to Liyue? What if you wanted to summoned Osial? What if… ?

Zhongli had to confirm and promise to him that those cruel possibilities won’t be a near future for respecting the real reason of your travel.

No matter if he wasn’t comfortable with your presence, it wasn’t his decision to allow you to roam freely, so he had to get use to it.

He immediately knew after hearing about your nature that was your fault that lately there were a lot more demons and monsters. Even his karma was getting more painful than usual.

(If you ever meet Hu Tao, please think twice before doing Xiao a prank)

You both didn’t interact a lot, and being honest, it was better that way.

He hadn’t a single intention of talking with you again until the day you were practicing the song that your Anemo friend taught you. By the other hand, Xiao noticed that the melody had the same nature as the one he once heard before being consumed by the karma.

It wasn’t a flute, but a worn lyre that was still in one piece after weeks of being repaired again and again.

“That song… ”

“Do you know it?” Xiao just nodded, staying in silence, being your very first audience even if you still have a lot to learn about playing a lyre.

It wasn’t as effective as the original, but was still… nice, kind of nostalgic.

Next morning, the Yaksha called for you. Made you stay still in the middle of a plain and then he disappeared of your sight.

He abandoned y- wait, what’s that? Why those monsters has that weird dark aura?

You were about to defend yourself until Xiao appeared back just in time to defeat them.

That day you became his personal bait for demons and monsters. Naturally you attracted chaos, so anyway you were, there will be also something to fight.

I guess this is your way to pay for all the troubles you made for him and his duty, so no complaining about it.

If you ask for a unexpected experience to Ganyu she would said that once she found both of you fighting along against the catastrophe, looking after each other’s back and almost having a perfect synchrony.

➷➹➷➹➷➹➷➹➷➹➷➹ ➷➹➷➹ ➷➹➷➹ ➷➹ ➷

SHOGUN RAIDEN; EI

Also tried to kill you.

Well, the puppet tried to.

And then Ei tried when you had the opportunity of facing her.

But since killing a god just mean the releasing of a lot, pure, energy she couldn’t afford that risk, much less considering your “speciality”.

Who knows what would happen to Inazuma if your vital energy burst across the nation. Just like that old story about Sal Terrae and their goddess.

She just defeated you. Letting you rest and recovering in the midst of the plane of her reality within her mind. Your inert body in the middle of the battlefield as she kept meditating.

When you woke up she ignored your presence, but also denying your complaints about letting you go out back.

In her words, you were a burden, another enemy of eternity. Something as unpredictable as you and your “accidents” couldn’t get along with her utopia.

Ei could banish you from Inazuma, but she knows your type. Stubborn and not accepting the most simple orders to obey.

She knew that you would found a way to be back.

It’s better like this.

And in the hypothetical case of you being freed when she trapped the traveler (kicking you out) and then having a chance to see her again after the end of the war, then things would be somewhat different.

There’s not that much of civilization on some islands, so she allowed you to explore as much as your heart wanted. But if something serious happen, she promised that would end her work in the middle of the sea so your remains never be found.

Okay, message clear. Just do chaos near monsters and bandits, got it,,

Even if she wanted to spend some time with you and telling you some stories about Inazuma and other gods she couldn’t found the right time to call you at her presence.

As the current ruler of Inazuma she was busier than the rest of Archons you have meet. Maybe just some letters now and then like a way to keep a logbook, but not really a face to face talk.

Until she got the opportunity of a day off, just to found you messing around near some ruins. Trying to solve a puzzle before your speciality strikes in. The structure fell down after your fingertips reached the stone.

When the dust dissipated, you discovered her figure judging you from the other side of the remain ruins.

Give her a good reason for not errase you from the map, I dare u.

You felt the worst was about to come when Ei ordered you to follow her after a long sigh. Crossing her arms and starting to walk away from the bunch of old and worn rock.

Plot Twist, she actually invited you to rest under a tree, asking in her serene voice the reason for your journey and your origin. In such a direct way that it seemed more like a sentence than a talk to get to know each other better.

You answered what you could remember and then the silence stayed like the only way of interaction between you two.

Ohno, you know this pattern. Something’s about to happen-

“There is some strange beauty in the chaos, it may be the calm after the storm, but the catastrophe itself is seen as a necessary evil to appreciate the stillness. How much it would last until the lighting hit the valley?”

“So I arrived to keep order between the humans?”

Well yes, but actually no.

“… You see, if there is nothing but order and a lack of problems, mortals are likely to create them on their own. Their minds feels the need to be tested, to prove their worth, so I guess some of your chaos may be part of the history.”

“… then shall we take a walk in Inazuma?” You did not know if you were right, but you thought you saw a faint smile through his lips in the same way that lightning can be seen in the sky.

“I’ll allow it.” She said.

Her only condition was for you not to approach the huge boxes of fireworks down the street.

[deanstead]

Somebody’s Watching

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request by danipearl16: Request- Jay has a girlfriend that nobody knows about and then they get a case where she’s being stalked and her stalker is killings women that seem to remind him of her and it turns out to be her ex-boyfriend from high school and Jay starts going downhill a little bit because he’s worried about her. Also his girlfriend is more on the younger than his side by 7 years

Word Count: 4,365

Warnings: cursing, mention of sexual assault/misconduct (non-graphic), mention of non-con touching, stalking, minor OC death, mention of injury, angst, fluff

A/N: Please beware of the triggers before you continue reading! I changed some parts to fit into the storyline but I still hope you like what I did with it! I’m pretty excited about this fic so I really really hope yall will like it! It’s my first time writing such a detailed case in so I hope it turned out well? Please hit me up and let me know what you think! Love yall!

---

You looked up from where you were sprawled on the couch, fiddling with your phone. Jay was sitting at the table, a small frown across his face as he pored over case notes.

Jay usually didn’t bring his work home with him but they’d just closed a big case and he had spent a whole week in the district. So instead of spending more time there to finish the paperwork, Jay had opted to bring it home instead.

You smiled to yourself just as Jay looked up. “Sorry babe.” He said, making a little face at the papers strewn across the table.

Chuckling, you climbed off the couch and moved towards him. You stood behind him, looping your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I missed you.” You whispered.

Jay turned slightly, tugging you so that you now landed in his lap.

“Missed you too.” He whispered, smiling as one of his arms snaked around your waist, holding you securely to him, another hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “Sorry I’ve been busy.”

You shook your head, smiling.

You’d been dating for a while but no one else knew. Both of you had agreed to keep it on the down low, partly because of your age difference. Even though you had agreed you’d keep it quiet at least for the first few months, it had been a lot more than that and it had been going so well that you didn’t really want to purposefully invite anyone into this world that Jay and you had created for yourselves. Rather than keeping it a secret, you guys just hadn’t made the effort to tell anyone or publicize it to the world. This also meant that when he was stuck at the district, you didn’t get to see him but on such days, Jay was always mindful about checking in.

“What’s on your mind?” Jay asked.

“Just thinking I’m lucky to have you.” You responded, leaning in to try to give him a hug. Instead, Jay stroked your cheek and pressed his lips to yours. “Now, I really need to finish this.”

You laughed. “Go forth.”

---

Jay had taken a few well-deserved days of furlough, which he had mostly spent curled up with you. You didn’t have any complaints, it had been just what you both needed.

But Intelligence couldn’t catch a break. It was Jay’s first day back and now, he was already walking up to a crime scene.

Jay pushed the yellow crime scene tape upwards, letting Hailey walk through ahead of him before following behind her.

“What do we have?” Jay asked, approaching the spot where Adam and Kim were standing.

Kim turned. “Kate Whitewood, 22, stabbed multiple times.”

“She’s not in the system. No priors, nothing.” Adam added.

“No belongings on her?” Voight asked, looking around.

Adam shook his head. Jay frowned. “There’s barely any blood here.”

Kevin nodded, jogging forward to join them. “This is probably just the dump site. She must have been killed elsewhere.”

Hailey stood from where she had bent to examine the body. “She has defensive wounds on her. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find skin under her fingernails.”

Jay bent forward slightly. “What are those? Marks around her neck? We need to get her to the ME to get the exact cause of death.”

“Kim, bag her hands and get forensics to run a deluxe.” Voight said, as Kim nodded.

“My CI works this street, let me see what I can find out.” Jay said, turning away.

---

“So Kate was last seen at this bar right in town.” Hailey said, walking in and sticking a screenshot onto the board, which showed a camera view of the street outside the bar.

Kate could be seen on the image, her head turned slightly as she waved to someone, a man standing by her side. Hailey tapped the image.

“We can’t find this guy. His face is always turned away from the camera, facial recognition is out.”

Voight nodded. “Jay, have you heard from your CI?”

Jay nodded, resting slightly against Hailey’s desk, his arms crossed in front of him. “My guy says there haven’t been any deals going down. I think we can rule out drugs or gangs. Streets have been quiet ever since that big bust we did last month.”

“It was 28 degrees out last night, ME couldn’t find the exact time of death. But there were signs she was raped, signs of asphyxiation and five penetration wounds from a knife.” Kevin said, opening the file he had gotten from the medical examiner earlier.

Voight turned to Kim. “Who was she?”

Kim sighed. “Kate was a hard worker, she had just started her job as a receptionist at a dentist’s office in South Loop. Dad’s MIA, Mum’s remarried and relocated to New York so she’s living on her own.”

“Have we found who she was with last night?”

Adam nodded. “I’ve gone through her phone. Looks like she was meeting her friend Grace at the club last night.”

“We need to talk to her. I want to know about the last day of Kate’s life. Timeline. Check all sex offenders in the area. Comb her social media. Let’s go.” Voight instructed.

---

Jay knocked on the main door, glancing sideways at Hailey. The door swung open.

“Grace Archer? I’m Detective Upton, this is Detective Halstead, can we come in?” Hailey asked.

She furrowed her brows. “What’s this about?”

“You’re friends with Kate Whitewood?” Hailey asked, without directly answering her question. She nodded and without missing a beat, Hailey continued, “We need to ask you a few questions about last night.”

Grace stepped back to let them in, her face falling as she led them to the sitting room.

“I heard from her parents. The whole thing’s horrible.” Grace whispered, wrapping her hands around herself.

“Can you tell us what you remember?” Jay asked.

Grace looked up. “Kate’s boyfriend had broken up with her a few months ago, so I took her out. She needed to get out again.”

“Were you approached by anyone?” Hailey asked.

“Several.” She answered.

“Anyone that stood out?”

Grace paused, trying to recall. “Kate didn’t even really want to go. She barely looked at the guys… except…”

Hailey sat up a little. “There must have been something about this guy that she left with, something unique. We have a photo of him on the surveillance tape. Flashy?”

Grace nodded, “Yeah, he had this like... attitude… like he was hitting on us but he was making a joke of it at the same time.” She paused. “The last thing she told me was that she had a great time… I shouldn’t have forced her to come out.”

“This isn’t your fault.” Hailey leaned over and patted Grace comfortingly on the arm. “Thanks for talking to us. Please call us if you think of anything else.”

As Jay walked out of Grace’s house with Hailey, he looked at his partner. “This guy’s confident, he’s smooth and it doesn’t look like he knew Kate or Grace.”

---

For the rest of the day, the team had almost combed through the whole of Kate’s whereabouts before she had disappeared and all they had was a big fat nothing.

Jay typed a quick text to you to let you know that he wasn’t going to be able to come over tonight.

You read the text, smiling a little. Jay was busy but it was cute that he always kept you informed. You stopped walking, typing back a reply to tell him it was okay and to do what he had to do, before you kept her phone back into your pocket.

You walked along the street, the same street you walked on every night, frowning a little. You turned around, scanning the street behind you.

You could swear that it was like someone was watching you, or following you. But the street was empty. This wasn’t the first time you had had this feeling - like the little hairs on the back of your neck were standing but you had nothing to back up this feeling you had.

Holding your bag tighter against you, you pushed yourself forward, quickening your footsteps, only letting up as you passed the safety of your apartment building’s front door.

As you passed the threshold of your apartment and closed the door behind you, you pulled out your phone, staring at it for a while. Part of you wanted to call Jay, to hear his voice and have him tell you that you were just tired, imagining things. But the rational part of your brain convinced yourself that everything was okay, reminding you that Jay was so busy and deep in a case, he really shouldn’t have to worry about you.

Ultimately, you put your phone on the counter, chuckling at yourself. Maybe you really were too tired.

---

By the next morning, another body had turned up, not two streets away from the first dump site.

Jay felt an uneasy feeling spread in the pit of his stomach as he stared at the photo of the new victim that was already up on the board. They had a serial killer in Chicago and this guy’s victim type had physical characteristics that were scarily similar to you.

“Jay.” Hailey broke Jay out of his thoughts. “Emma Green, 23, strangulation marks, six stab wounds.”

Jay turned to his partner and nodded. “Did they go to the same club?”

Hailey handed Jay a file. “No, but look at what we picked up on the surveillance camera.” Jay opened the file, studying the photo.

“This is our guy isn’t it?” He pointed at a male figure who was standing next to their second victim, his face still hidden from the camera, wearing a plain cap.

“Hey guys, I might have found a link.” Kim said, walking in. “I checked the employee records and there’s a bartender that works in both clubs and he was on shift on each day our victims went missing. He’s got a prior for aggravated assault and harassment.”

“We’ll take it.” Jay said, grabbing his jacket and heading out of the district.

Hailey fell into step next to him, glancing at him. “Jay, you okay?”

Jay nodded. “Let’s just get this son of a bitch.”

They travelled the rest of the way in silence. Hailey seemed to pick up that this case was affecting Jay differently but she didn’t press further, allowing Jay to lead the way into the closed club.

“Ben Carlton?”

The bartender looked up from where he was, his eyes falling onto the police badge that was hung around Jay’s neck.

In a sudden motion, he ducked out and ran.

“Hey, stop!” Jay yelled, as both he and Hailey launched themselves after him, Hailey shooting out the front door to try to head him off.

“5021 George, I have a suspect fleeing on foot.” Jay called into his radio, sprinting after the bartender.

The bartender barely made it onto the next street before Hailey flung herself at him around the corner, rolling onto the ground as Jay pulled out his gun. “Don’t move!” He yelled, as Hailey pulled the bartender to his feet.

“Let’s go.” Jay snarled.

---

“It wasn’t me!” Ben yelled as he sat in the interrogation room, facing Jay and Hailey.

Jay sighed internally, watching Ben’s reactions and the way he was answering the questions Hailey was shooting at him.

“Those were mistakes, I didn’t do this!” He yelled again.

Jay pushed himself upright, getting up from where he was leaning against the wall and pushing the photos of the victims onto the table. “This. Look at this. We can place these girls at the bars you worked at just before they died.”

“Look.” Ben said, looking up at Jay. “I saw them but they left before I even finished my shift.”

Jay glanced at Hailey. “Who did they leave with?” Hailey asked.

Ben looked from Hailey to Jay. “Look, I don’t know the guy, he’s not a regular. But he’s white, about their age. I noticed him because he headed for them the moment that he walked in. Like he knew they were there.”

Before Jay or Hailey moved, a knock came from the door.

“You guys gotta see this.” Adam said, sticking his head in.

“Sit tight.” Jay said to Ben, following Adam outside, where Kevin was waiting as well.

Kevin handed the file to Jay. “We got another one.” Jay flipped open the file, which told him what he already feared. Another victim, of a physical type that not only matched the first two victims but also you.

Jay looked up. “His cooling off period is getting shorter. We need to get this son of a bitch.”

---

The feeling was getting a little stronger that someone had been watching you.

You glanced over your shoulder but as usual the street was empty. Maybe you needed to stop staying late.

You turned back towards the front. There were sounds of footsteps but you swallowed the lump in your throat, quickening your pace as discreetly as you could.

It definitely felt like someone was following you now. You were almost running by the time you rounded the corner, colliding with someone.

You gave a yelp of surprise.

“Y/N!”

You had collided with Jay.

You let out a breath, spinning around to look over your shoulder.

“What’s going on? You okay?” Jay’s eyes snapped from you to the empty street behind you.

You turned back to look at Jay. Now that he was standing in front of you, it didn’t seem that scary anymore - maybe you had imagined the whole thing.

You shook your head, taking one last glance behind you. “What are you doing here? You finished the case?”

Jay smiled but the smile didn’t really reach his eyes. “Just wanted to check in on you. I have to go back soon.”

You reached for his hand without saying anything and that’s how the both of you walked back to your apartment, your hand clenched securely in his, almost like the both of you had a tight bubble around you.

You could tell Jay’s mind was far away, and it was even more unlike him to come see you in the middle of a case. You knew there was something troubling him but you weren’t one to press. Jay would tell you when he felt he could or he wanted to.

Instead, you just squeezed his hand.

Almost as if you were prying him from his thoughts, Jay looked at you and smiled. He pulled you closer to him, tucking you under his arm.

“You’re okay, right?” You asked, without looking up at him, just as he escorted you to your door.

Jay turned to look at you and nodded. “I will be, once this case is over.” He leaned forward to give you a kiss. “If anything happens, you call me, okay? No matter what.”

You raised an eyebrow but nodded at him, watching him disappear into the elevator before you retreated back into your apartment.

---

Intelligence had been tirelessly chasing down leads but they now had four bodies and Voight was getting pressure to solve this quickly as well. They needed a break in this case and fast.

“Okay, let’s regroup, what do we have so far?” Voight barked.

“All four victims were raped and found with multiple stab wounds. We know he picks up his victims from bars and appears non-threatening enough that his victims are willing to leave with him.” Jay said, getting up.

Hailey headed to the board, frowning. “We dumped their phones but we weren’t able to find any connection between the victims other than their physical type.” Hailey cast a look at Jay, which Voight didn’t miss. “I think he’s working his way up to something.”

“Hey guys?” Kim spoke up as she walked back in, flipping open the file sitting on her desk. “I went back over the first murder to see if we missed anything. Look at this.”

Kim pulled in her chair, zooming into the photo. “This badge here on his jacket, it’s barely visible so we missed it the first few times. I sent it to the lab to see if they could enhance the image and this is what I got.”

Kim clicked and up popped the crest of a high school. “Look, it’s not just a general badge. Look at the year.”

“Okay, that is the crest for Lincoln High. It’s a jacket given to those who graduated that year.” Kevin said, frowning at it.

“I’ll run the list of students who graduated in that year.” Jay barked, heading straight for his desk, his fingers flying across his keyboard.

Cross-checking was the worst job ever but the moment Jay’s eyes landed on your name on the list of graduates, he pulled it together, eliminating the women, men who had moved out of state or country, until finally he only had three names on the list.

“Okay, I have a Steven Miller, Charles Shoemaker and John Marlin.” Jay finally spoke up as everyone looked up. “But only Steven Miller has priors.”

“For harassment, sexual misconduct, and attempted assault. Sarge, this has to be our guy.” Jay looked up at Voight.

“Do we have an LKA?” Voight asked.

“Already on it.” Adam said.

“Go pick him up.” Adam nodded, motioning to Kevin as they headed out.

Something was bugging Jay. Steven Miller. That name was…

Fuck.

Jay pushed back his chair, entering Voight’s office without knocking and closing the door behind him.

“Sarge.”

Voight looked up, frowning a little at the look on Jay’s face. He put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, looking up at Jay.

“I’ve heard Miller’s name before. It was bugging me, but I remember now.”

Voight sat up straighter.

“I’m seeing his ex-girlfriend.” The words slipped past Jay’s lips. “Sarge, everything makes sense now. The physical type, the way he’s building up because his actual target…” Jay trailed off.

You had told Jay about Steven just once. You hadn’t gone into detail but you had told Jay about the short period that you had been together with Steven – his need for control over all aspects of your life, how he had always been a little rough, how he hadn’t taken any form of rejection well, and how you’d ended it the day he struck you.

“Take Hailey.”

Jay was already halfway to the door.

---

You had left early today.

It had been a while since you had done such an early shift but you’d been feeling more and more uneasy while walking home at night and the news coverage on the murders that were happening at the moment didn’t help.

You didn’t need Jay to tell you that you looked exactly like those girls who had been murdered. It was clear as day.

You fiddled with the key in the lock, opening the door.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach as you registered the person standing in front of you. In your house.

“Steven.” You muttered, your voice trembling, barely registering the butt of a gun heading towards your temple before it went dark.

---

Hailey hadn’t said anything but she knew something was off.

“Jay, what’s going on?” She asked. “How do you know this girl’s the target?”

Jay didn’t answer but pressed harder on the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles were white. The ringing tone going off through his bluetooth speaker in the car making him feel even worse.

“Jay.” Hailey said again. “I’m your partner.”

Jay glanced at her now. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Hailey’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.”

Jay let a beat of silence passed. “Miller’s her ex. I should have seen the signs, the physical type, everything, I…”

“Jay. She’ll be fine. Come on.” Hailey reassured him, as he turned his truck onto the familiar street.

“She’s still not answering.” Jay said, through gritted teeth. He’d been trying to call you since he had left the station.

Without hesitation, Jay bounded up the stairs, Hailey right behind him. From down the corridor, Jay could already tell your door was slightly ajar.

“Hang back.” Jay whispered, pulling out his service weapon.

Jay quietly approached the door. “Y/N?” He opened the door with his foot, freezing as his eyes landed on you, sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, your eyes frantic as Steven held a knife to your throat from where he stood behind you.

Jay gritted his teeth, using his foot to slam the door shut, knowing that Hailey would know what to do.

“Step away from her.” Jay growled, pointing his gun directly at Steven.

Steven smiled. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. Put that down.”

Jay grinded his teeth but didn’t move. You felt the cold blade of the knife press against your skin and inhaled sharply.

“Put. It. Down.” Steven repeated.

“Okay, okay.” Jay said, glancing at you before putting his hands above his head, disarming his gun and putting it down onto the floor.

Steven smiled again, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“Don’t you fucking touch her.” Jay growled.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what to do.” Steven answered.

“Jay, I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Jay looked straight at you. “It’s going to be okay. You focus on me, you hear me? I’m right here.”

“We broke up a long time ago, what the hell are you doing?” You asked. You were afraid, hell you were trembling, but this was crazy and you had to help Jay to find a way out of this.

“We wouldn’t be broken up if he hadn’t come between us.” Steven snarled, moving closer towards you, his lips almost touching your ear.

Jay growled. “Leave her alone.”

Steven looked back up at Jay again.

“What, you mean don’t do this?” Steven asked, crushing his lips against yours.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Jay yelled. “Is that what you did? How you forced yourself on all the other girls? What do you want, Steven? What are you trying to accomplish?”

“All I wanted was to be with Y/N! But you took her.” He spat.

“So you decided to go on a rampage?” Jay asked. You saw him twitch like he was looking for something so you started talking, as much as it made you want to gag.

“Steven, why didn’t you just talk to me?” You asked, trying to distract him.

“Talk? All you care about is him!” He yelled, lifting the knife and pointing it at Jay.

It happened in a split second.

The moment he lifted the knife, Jay yelled, “Now, Y/N!”

You threw yourself forward, covering your head with your hands as you heard the gunshots go off, just two. You weren’t sure who was shooting but you didn’t move until you heard Jay’s voice again.

“Y/N, it’s okay, it’s over.” Jay whispered.

You looked up, Jay’s face hovering above you.

“Jay…”

Jay nodded, “It’s okay, come here.”

Jay pulled his arms around you.

“He…” Jay shook his head, shielding your view of Steven’s now motionless body. “Don’t look back, come on.”

Jay tried to lead you out of the apartment, barely making it to the main door before his teammates appeared. “Jay!” Kevin called, as he spotted both of you.

Jay nodded. “Thanks.” Kevin nodded, his eyes lingering on the way Jay was holding you close to his side before making way for Jay to lead you back down to the ground floor where the ambulances were waiting.

Jay led you all the way to the waiting paramedics, not even leaving your side to get himself checked.

You weren’t hurt, not really. There was a little open cut from where Steven had pressed the blade a little too hard when he had been agitated but other than that you were fine. Well, that, and that disgusting feeling that came with remembering how Steven had pressed his lips against yours.

Voight approached you and Jay. Jay squeezed your hand. “I’ll be right back.” You smiled and nodded.

Jay and Voight talked in low voices until Voight turned to look at you. “And she’s okay?”

Jay nodded. “Yeah, she is. I just need to…”

“Do what you need to do. We’ll finish up here.” Voight said, nodding and clapping Jay on the back.

---

The paramedics had dressed the wound on the scene before Jay had brought you back to his apartment.

After getting you into a clean change of clothes and some warm food in you, you had ended up back in your favourite place in the world – on Jay’s couch, in Jay’s apartment, encircled in Jay’s arms.

You lay your head on Jay’s chest.

“So this was all because of me?” You asked in a low voice.

Jay sat up, looking at you. “What?”

“He killed all those women… because of me. I got them killed.” You whispered.

“No, no, baby.” Jay propped himself up, but didn’t let you go. “This is not your fault. Steven he… he did this, not you.”

You looked up at him. “He even… in front of you… he…” You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, you felt disgusting. He’d kissed you, he’d done it in front of Jay and he’d ruined everything.

You hadn’t said that much but Jay just tilted your chin upwards and kissed you. “Jay…”

“I’ll take it all away.” Jay whispered. “I’m sorry, I should have been there sooner.”

You shook your head, swiping away the tears that had slid down your cheeks.

Jay cupped your cheek again, pulling you into his chest. You balled your hand around his shirt, gripping at Jay.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Jay whispered.

“I’ll never let anyone touch you ever again.” He half snarled, still caressing you gently.

You leaned into his embrace, closing your eyes as the sound of Jay’s heartbeat gently lulled you back into the feeling of safety and security.

[reidscanehand]

“I can’t believe you would say that about me” hurt/comfort

It's certainly not the first time an agent in the BAU has gone slightly rogue. In fact, it really just shouldn't be a surprise at this point and yet, every time it happens (again, rather frequently), Strauss and the other higher-ups at the FBI seem astonished. If not obvious because of its frequency, it should be obvious because studying behavior requires a level of empathy that makes it hard to put head before heart. And you're hardly sorry that there wasn't a large amount of logic present when you broke protocol to save that little girl.

You twiddle your thumbs, shifting uncomfortably in your slightly nicer attire. When Hotch called to inform you that Strauss demanded a post-case protocol break debrief, he told you to "wear something slightly nicer than work clothes", but you'd chosen something vastly more uncomfortable than you'd previously believed. Or maybe you were just nervous. You'd arrived ready to speak to Strauss but were informed by a very annoyed looking Hotch that he would be speaking to her first and you were to wait outside on the bench next to the conference room door. A bench you'd sworn would provide you more eavesdropping ability than it has. You can't hear a damn thing, except that you think Hotch is speaking more than Strauss.

Is it a good sign? Is it a bad sign? You're not sure. Hotch hadn't been thrilled that you'd broken protocol. In fact, his reaction had been...odd. Really, he'd been acting odd around you a lot recently.

Shit, maybe you are being fired. You begin to think of something to say, an attempt at a defense. Or maybe, maybe you should just take it on the chin. Your brain is so full of jumping back and forth between mentally tweaking your resume for other job options and some attempt at defending your actions that, by the time Hotch opens the door and steps into the hall, you're almost an emotional wreck.

You stand to greet him, swallowing back tears when you finally look into his eyes. He just looks determined, if not slightly pissed off.

"We're all done here, you don't have to say anything," he says by way of greeting.

"Wha-what?" you ask, almost ashamed at how feeble you sound. He turns on his heel and gestures for you to follow him. It takes you a moment to realize that the two of you are walking back to the bullpen.

"You're cleared; don't worry about it anymore," Hotch answers, not looking back at you. He stops at the end of the hallway and turns back to look at where you've stopped behind him.

"So, I'm...I'm not fired?" you ask quietly. Just like that, Hotch's demeanor changes entirely. He crosses back to you, putting his hands on your upper arms.

"Of course not," he whispers. "You're too good of an agent and a person for us to let you go."

"But...but the protocols-"

"I told Strauss that you're far too valuable an asset to the team to get belittled into a corner over something so trivial as this," he interrupts, wiping a tear from your cheek with a gentle finger. "And that I would not have one of my best agents' records raked over the coals for deciding that saving another life was more important than a rule."

He stares down at you, cupping your cheeks to gain better access to the tears now pouring down your face. It's almost like he's unaware of the intimacy of the action.

"I can't believe you would say that about me," you rasp against your tears.

Hotch cocks his head to one side, "Of course I would, Y/N, why would you think otherwise?"

"Well...it's just...you didn't seem too happy that I broke protocol either and I made you have to deal with Strauss and-"

He places a finger to your lips to calm you down. He then pulls back, hands still cupping your jaw, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Y/N," he starts off slowly, "I'm sorry if...I didn't mean...oh, for God's sake."

"What's wrong?" you ask.

"Nothing at all," he chuckles to himself, "I just find it incredibly hard to think straight around you."

"What do you mean?" you stare up at him. Hotch wipes under your eyes again, staring down at you with more adoration than you've ever imagined - and you've imagined it many times.

"I mean," Hotch whispers, thumbs caressing your jaw, "that I like you, Y/N. I like you a lot more than I should, really, and while I wasn't thrilled that you broke protocol...I was so damn proud of you and so terrified for you at the same time. It scared me to see someone I care about so much put their lives on the line, but I-"

You cut him off this time, pressing your lips to his. Thankfully, he kisses you back, moaning against you as your hands grasp at his chest. You only pull away when you absolutely have to breathe, sighing contentedly as Hotch presses another kiss to your temple, pulling you close. The two of you stand together, holding each other in the (thankfully empty) hallway for a long time. The fluorescent lights are shining overhead, but it feels as though you are basking in the glow of something far more spectacular.

"Well," you finally whisper, "this is certainly a break in protocol."

A laugh rumbles through Hotch's chest as he cups your jaw again, pulling you back in for another kiss.

~~~

Thank you for the request - I hope you like it! Feel free to send me sentence and dialogue prompts! xx

[redhoodieone]

His Girl

Plot: Dick Grayson has a type in women: athletic, feminine, and classy. However, the reader is completely different as she is plus-size, tomboyish, and spontaneous. But a conversation about Y/N between Dick and the batboys takes an unexpected turn one night.

Warnings: Language, Sensitive topics, and Fluff.

“What the hell’s up your ass?” Jason asks Dick, as he hands him a bottle of beer from the refrigerator in the Batcave. It was only until last week that Bruce gave in and allowed a refrigerator to be down there after the boys begged him for one.

As long as it was only for beverages, of course. Bruce had mentioned the boys have been eating too much junk food lately, but the boys knew deep down that his rule is simply for him, because of his age, and maybe for Y/N, too.

Y/N has only been with the Batfamily for a year since her family died at the hands of Two-Face. She had only started training with Bruce for two months now, and the two of them have been working out quite a bit.

Which makes sense of Bruce’s one rule for the refrigerator, though. But that hasn’t stopped Jason from sneaking in food anyways; mostly pizza and lunch meat and cheeses for sandwiches.

But now, Dick’s distant and silence is unbearable since the circus descent acrobat is usually excited and rambling about anything and everything.

“Uh, nothing! I mean...” Dick stutters. His behavior tonight was questionable to say the least. Usually, he would be on his game and even throw some wisecracks but he’s been awfully quiet, nervous even.

“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say,” Jason scoffs.

Dick sits on top of the hood of the Batmobile while he peels the sticky label from the beer bottle. He notices Tim and Damian walking out from the showers and are already dressed in sweatpants and t-shirts. Bruce is seated at the Batcomputer, still in costume but minus the cowl. Jason sits at the small table and sips from his beer and snacks on a triple meat and cheese sandwich he must have made quickly.

And Alfred had long gone to bed after Bruce forced him to get some rest since they’ve returned home and are not dead.

Dick suddenly notices Y/N must still be in the showers, on the other side of the cave for privacy where the guys can’t bother the girls.

“Fine...I’ve been...having these thoughts and dreams about Y/N lately,” Dick confesses. He notices Jason staring at him with a confused expression.

“Yeah, and…?”

“Well…lately, I’ve been thinking about her as…more than a friend. I’ve been seeing her in a new light. And you know I’ve always thought she was cool, and funny, and incredibly smart,” Dick continues, with a small smile. “But…I’ve never been sexually attracted to women like her before.”

Jason purses his lips and appears to think it over. “So, I don’t see the problem.”

“I just told you I’ve never felt this way about Y/N or any woman like her before.”

“Because you’re shallow.”

“I’m not shallow,” Dick argues, suddenly feeling defensive at Jason’s attack. “I just…I’ve never seen heavy women as hot, you know?”

“You can try to justify all that, but the point is, you’re shallow.”

“Have you ever slept with a heavy girl before, Jason?!” Dick snaps.

Jason chuckles and grins. “Actually, I have.”

“Bullshit,” Dick scoffs.

“Yeah, I have Dickie-bird. It happened three years ago, when my Outlaws and I kicked Black Mask’s ass. We went to a bar to celebrate in downtown Gotham. Roy and Star left early to go fuck or something. I was left alone and I was about to call it a night until this smoking hot woman took a seat next to me. She had long dark hair, tan skin, and curves that made my mouth water and my cock hard enough to pound nails. She was gorgeous, but there were these assholes around her and were calling her fat and telling her to leave because no one here would take her home. And do you want to know what I did?” Jason asks.

“What?” Dick asks quietly.

“I took her home, after I broke all those guys’ jaws. She was fucking amazing, man. She had a magnificent ass that she actually allowed me to spank. Her curves were endless, and after I fucked her good three times, cuddling and falling asleep with her was probably the best part of the night. I’ve never felt so…comfortable and felt warm, because I actually felt someone beside me,” Jason admits.

Dick raises an eyebrow at him. “Wow, I didn’t think something like that could happen to you, Jason. If anything, I thought you were shallow.”

“I used to be, until I realized I was judging others, when I was actually trying to have others not judge me. Alfred actually helped me with that. I don’t remember every word he said exactly but he said I wasn’t trying all the ice cream flavors out there. Like, I was always sticking to a certain flavor of ice cream, and I wasn’t trying other kinds, meaning I should be looking at all types of women. And after my one night stand with that magnificent woman’s ass, I realized bigger girls aren’t deal breakers; they’re just more to love,” Jason admits, and shrugs with a smug smile.

“That’s…I don’t even know what to say. But Y/N’s different. She’s someone we know and it makes it harder. And my problem isn’t that I’m shallow, it’s how I’m supposed to handle my feelings about her.”

“Yeah, you are, Dick. Y/N’s literally the best woman we’ve ever met. Hell, the best woman I’VE ever met. She’s fucking funny, she’s so caring and kind, she’s smarter than Timbo when it comes to common sense,” Jason lists off his reasons.

“That’s true! I’m not going to lie about that!” Tim interrupts from the distance.

“Y/N’s real, she doesn’t bullshit about anything like other girls. She’s honest, and that’s a rare thing to find nowadays. And fuck…she can really handle her alcohol, she can down shots of Fireball like it’s water,” Jason adds.

“You don’t think I know all that? Of course, I do! That’s why I’m having such a hard time dealing with my feelings for her. I’ve only ever been with tall, athletic women, who wear skirts and dresses, eats healthy, and are…well, feminine,” Dick confesses. A guilty expression shows on his face. “And Y/N’s not any of that. She’s really short, kinda chubby, and she’s more of a tomboy type, who’s loud and rambunctious, and eats like a man.”

Jason snorts. “And that’s a problem why? That’s why Y/N’s fucking awesome, man! I actually really like how she’s not afraid to be herself. She’s not fake. Do you know how long it took for her to be comfortable with all of us and be who she is rather than how she thought we expected from her? And I don’t know about you but I love how she eats, whenever we go out to restaurants, I actually like how I can eat the way I want and not feel like a fat ass because I know her and I both love what we love and fuck all who have a problem with that!”

Bruce turns around in his chair and gives both boys a warning look. Even Tim and Damian silently take a seat and watch closely.

“Fuck…Y/N is the perfect woman. She’ll always be in my eyes,” Jason admits, looking down at his beer longingly before taking a sip.

“If you feel so strongly about her then why haven’t you tried to go out with her or sleep with her?” Dick asks angrily.

Jason’s pause takes everyone by surprise. “Because she can do better than me.”

“You-you actually tried to get with her?” Dick stammers.

“Oh, yeah I definitely did. I think about a year ago. I had spent the summer with her here while everyone was busy with the whole Justice League and Superman bullshit,” Jason explains. “You were with the Titans with Tim and Damian. It was just me and her.”

“Alfred was there as well,” Bruce mumbles.

“Anyways, call it cheesy as hell like those romcoms, but we actually got really close. She’s a spitfire for sure, but she really knows how to get under your skin,” Jason chuckles.

Tim and Damian nod their heads in agreement with that.

“And I obviously made the whole situation uncomfortable as fuck because when I told her how I felt, she rejected me. She said we were too alike, we’d butt heads all the time. And after that, I never brought it up again.”

Jason’s confession gives Dick a sense of confidence.

“Look, if you want to ask her out and do all that then I support you. Just know if you fucking hurt her or do anything wrong, I’ll slit your throat even if you’re family,” Jason threatens seriously.

“I wouldn’t even know how to bring it up with her,” Dick says.

“Well, don’t bring up how her weight and appearance bothers you,” Jason says seriously.

“It doesn’t!”

“Okay. How did you ask Barbara, Star, Zatanna, and-”

“I get it, Jason. I’ll just talk to her and tell her I have strong feelings for her,” Dick interrupts him. “I’ll just tell her the truth.”

“You already did.”

That voice belonged to none other than Y/N. All the guys in the Batcave jerked their heads to the top of the stairs where Y/N stood and looked down with tears running down her cheeks. She was wearing her plaid pajama pants and a loose black t-shirt she stole from one of them a long time ago, she doesn’t exactly know who though.

Dick and Jason slowly stand up. Dick carefully walks over to the stairs while Jason cautiously follows.

“Y/N…” Dick whispers, already feeling guilty and nervous that she had probably heard everything. “Please listen to me…”

“WHY?! So, you can tell me you didn’t mean any of that, when you actually did. I thought you were different! I didn’t know you could judge someone like that! Especially someone like me!” Y/N yells. “I thought you were my friend!”

“I am your friend! Y/N, please give me a chance to explain! I really like you, and-and I was just trying to ask for help so I can talk to you!” Dick pleads.

“Don’t lie to me! You were only asking for help because you didn’t know how to deal with me being fat and manly! I’m sorry I’m not like Barbara and Star! I’m sorry I’m not beautiful and thin! I’m sorry I’m not perfect for you!” Y/N cries out and runs up the stairs.

“Y/N! Wait! Please!” Dick shouts for her. He chases after her.

By the time Dick reaches Y/N’s bedroom door, it’s locked. He can hear her crying, automatically feeling like shit for being the reason why she’s hurt.

“Y/N, please…” Dick tries again.

“Leave me alone, Dick!”

Dick swallows hard and forces himself to move away from her door. There was no use for him to stand there; he’d already broke her trust and possibly ruined their friendship. He might have even ruined his chances with her.

Jason approaches Dick. “Is she crying?” he asks.

“Yes,” Dick chokes out. He runs a hand through his dark hair. “Fuck, Jason…I don’t know what to do. She won’t even talk to me.”

“You should go, Dick. I think you’ve done enough.”

Dick was a little taken aback by Jason’s command. He pushes himself to walk away anyways.

“Bruce wants to talk to you. You should go find him before he finds you,” Jason adds.

Dick exhales heavily and leaves. Jason shakes his head in disappointment at him. He takes a deep breath and knocks on Y/N’s bedroom door.

“Doll, it’s Jay. Please let me in,” Jason says softly. “I just want to talk to you.”

He didn’t think she would open the door for him. He didn’t think she would want to talk to him even though he hadn’t pissed her off or upset her in any way. But Y/N unlocked her door and even opened it for him.

Jason was deeply heartbroken to see Y/N; her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks were wet, and she had the devastating look on her beautiful face. He quickly walked into her room and shut the door, quickly locking it.

He had to be cautious though. He knew couldn’t say or do the things he wants to do with her right now. Instead, he slowly and carefully approaches her. She allows him to wrap his strong arms around her, bringing her closely to his body to hold and protect her from everyone and everything.

“Shh…it’s okay, sweetheart. I got you. I’m not going anywhere,” Jason whispers into her hair. He tries desperately to not inhale the addicting scent of her shampoo and lingering perfume so much. “You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Y/N lifts her face from Jason’s chest and gazes up at him. The sight of her glistening eyes makes him draw her closer to him.

“What did I do wrong, Jay? What did I do to deserve all that? Is everything about me really bad?” Y/N asks softly, on the verge of tears again.

“No. No, don’t say that. Don’t say any of that! Nothing is wrong with you. You’re beautiful, Y/N. You’re perfect just the way you are,” Jason admits.

Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. It breaks Jason’s heart more when she tries to pull away from his embrace, but he refuses to let her go. His grip tightens and he holds her as if she’d disappear and leave him all alone.

“That’s not true, Jay,”

“It is true. Hell Y/N, you’re the most badass woman I’ve ever met. You don’t take shit from any of us. You’ve managed to stay here even after all the bullshit everyone has put you through,” he explains. He even chuckles at a memory. “You’ve even made Bruce cry, remember? Remember you called him out on his bullshit when he refused to train you? You’re almost a savage like Alfred, you even make Wonder Woman and Catwoman look like dollar tree prizes, and that’s no lie.”

Y/N looks down at her feet. Jason knows she still doesn’t believe him.

“You’re always perfect in my eyes, Y/N. There isn’t a goddamn thing I would change about you,”

“If I’m so perfect, then why does Dick think so low of me?” Y/N asks. She sniffles adorably and looks back up at him.

“Because he’s a fucking idiot who can’t see the best thing that’s in front of him,” Jason answers, and looks into Y/N’s eyes before he looks at her lips. “But his loss is my gain.”

[rynne311]

Pizza and Beer

Summary: When friends move, you help out in exchange for pizza and beer. Those are the rules, even when you don't like beer and you like your friend way more than just a friend.

Word Count: 1353

The offer had been simple enough. Jason offered you pizza and beer if you helped him move. You weren't sure how much help you could actually be, but you weren't about to pass up the chance to spend the day with your friend. Deep down, though, you wished this was a moving in together kind of move instead, but for as well as Jason knew you, he was no mind reader, especially when it came to your feelings for him.

You were surprised when you got out of the moving truck he'd rented to find all of the big furniture had already been moved in. You assumed that meant he'd already moved his gear to avoid any wandering eyes as well. Together, you spent all morning moving all of the smaller boxes in tandem. The time flew by as you both joked around with each pass in the hallway and stairwell.

Before you knew it, every last box was upstairs and you were busying yourself unpacking them while Jason took care of grabbing the pizza he'd promised you. This may not be your home, but you tried to add your personal touch to the apartment.

"Helping reward's here," he announced as he set the pizza box and a couple of beers on the empty coffee table. You made a mental note to grab some large decorative books for him to put there. With a smile, you got up from your spot in front of the bookcase and joined him on the couch for a well deserved break.

The two of you had finished most of the pizza, and were quite satisfied you'd found the best pizza spot in the neighborhood, before Jason noticed he was the only one with an empty bottle. When he looked a little closer he realized you hadn't even touched the beer he'd grabbed for you.

"You good over there?" he asked. You almost thought he might still be joking around and about to make some crack about some pizza spilled on your shirt. When you looked down and confirmed nothing had fallen onto your shirt, you couldn't hide the confusion that painted your face and furrowed your brows together.

"Yeah," you confirmed cautiously. "Why?"

"I mean you've busted your ass all day and now you won't touch your beer," he explained. "You usually go drink for drink with me and now you're not so it seems like something's wrong."

"I'm fine, I promise. I just don't like beer," you explained. His puzzled look begged you to continue. "When we're at the bar I always get mixed drinks or wine. Now if you'd made a pitcher of margaritas, you never would have had a chance to even try them. But a blender really isn't the top of the list to unpack."

You may have answered his question, but you left him with so many more. He brought his own drink to his mouth in an attempt to hide his visible confusion. It almost worked, but you caught the way his brows furrowed from above the bottle.

"It's probably safer this way anyway," you remarked, trying to inject a bit of humor. "You know me and tequila are a dangerous combination. Just like the song, sometimes it just means clothes start falling off."

Jason hummed in absent agreement, but you could tell you'd already lost him. He'd jumped down the rabbit hole of questions, and he wasn't going to be really listening, or at least processing what was said, until he reemerged.

"So why'd you come today?" he asked. "When I asked you, I told you I'd get pizza and beer, so you knew I didn't have anything else to offer, but you still accepted."

It felt like a now or never kind of moment. One of the ones where you could be bold or you could be practical. You mulled over your options for what felt like an eternity, and while you wanted to be bold, you didn't want to lose what you had. Instead of answering, you grabbed another piece of pizza to buy a little time. The eye roll you got in return told you Jason knew exactly what you were doing.

"I thought I could be helpful," you finally answered as you finished your slice.

"That doesn't feel like the whole answer," Jason scoffed.

"Maybe," you confirmed. "But it also begs the question why you asked me to come help today if you already had everything moved in up here but some boxes in a half empty moving truck, or why I'm the only person you asked to come help you?"

Taking a page out of your book, Jason snagged your untouched beer to avoid having to answer.

"You want a full answer? I'll give you as full an answer as you'll get for right now," you began. Now it seemed you may have finally found the courage to be bold. "I wanted to spend time with you. You're always off wrangling supervillains and drug lords, which don't get me wrong is great and all. It has dropped the number of break-ins in my building to almost none. But that doesn't mean I don't miss you, because I do. I always do. A lot."

He started to choke on his drink, telling you you'd given a little more of an answer than you'd wanted to give. You couldn't say you were a fan of this emotional vulnerability, but your chest did feel ever so slightly lighter. You tried to read his face for a moment for some sort of reciprocation, but feeling the heat rise in your own face forced you to turn back to your empty plate. Your eyes only darted back over to him once you heard the bottle connect with the table.

"Maybe I wanted to spend time with you too. Maybe I didn't want all of the noise with my brothers and Roy around, especially when they manage to break something." With each 'maybe,' his voice grew a little more pointed and defensive, and you thought you could see a vulnerability that mirrored your own in his eyes. "Maybe I wanted this place to have your touch and feel like you. Maybe -"

You cut him off, leaning across the couch and kissing him. It was too rare in life that you got a second chance on a now or never moment, and you didn't want to squander it. You could only describe the feeling as a wave of excitement followed by a rush of relief when he raised his hand to your face and pulled you closer, returning the kiss.

"Maybe," his voice was softer now, almost cracking, "Maybe I've wanted that to happen for a very long time."

You felt breathless, but that didn't stop the smile from growing across your face. This time when you looked in his eyes, they seemed to share your mixture of excitement and relief. You couldn't help yourself as a small chuckle broke through.

"You like me, you really, really like me," you teased in a sing-song voice, only pausing to make kissy noises in the air. "You like -"

Having had his own feelings confirmed, Jason cut off your teasing as he pulled you into another kiss. When you both finally let go, he kept his forehead pressed to yours, watching as your eyes shifted back into focus. He wore a self-assured grin as he said, "There's no maybe about that."

"No, I don't think there is," you agreed. You sat back a little, trying to sear this moment into your memory forever. "Who would've thought a stupid beer could make this happen?"

"I should have brought you some beer to not drink ages ago," he joked, pulling you into his side and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You settled into your contentment in his arms, knowing now you may never have to leave this feeling again. "Next time I'll have tequila, it sounded like those consequences are fun."

You rolled your eyes in response as you wiggled a little closer into his side. Yeah, some post-margarita consequences now sounded a lot more appealing.

Tags:

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[ramzawrites]

OMG might I say I have cried many tears already.

Also can I request a part 2 to your hybrid iron golem story? Maybe one where he has to deal with torture from the butcher gang, and even has to help exile techno. But eventually he ends up teaming with techno blade and dream after they save him. And he starts training with them and gets better at pvp and eventually kills/greatly injures one of the butcher gang as revenge, before returning to his village? LOVE YOU AND YOUR FICS❤️ your also like the only writer I know who writes he/him or gn fics so thank you❤️

IronGolem!Hybrid!Reader - Protector - Part 2

Part 1

Male

Pairings: none

Characters included: Quackity, Tubbo, Fundy, Ranboo, Technoblade, Ghostbur, (mentioned) Philza

Warnings: mention of burn wounds,captivity,fighting

Series: a part 2 of my previous fic per request <3

Summary: After weeks of working Y/N to the bones the Butcher Army has a different need of him. After managing to get the best gear possible from Y/N and having trained enough, it was finally time to get revenge! It was time to “peacefully” get Technoblade so he can stand trial, of course taking Y/N with them, after all he worked so hard on their gear and was now a part of their little army.

Words count: 3893

Authors Note: Thank you for the nice words! 💙 :D I’m sorry I broke this request up in two parts! I will concentrate on finishing up another or two requests and while I do that, I will also try finishing up part 3 since I am already in the middle of writing it! So don’t worry it is coming!

Y/N pressed his back against the cold stone wall. Enjoying the coolness on his body. Pressing his burned palms against the cold floor beneath him. The coldness was like a soothing balm that engulfed him after working for hours at the forge.

It was probably a bad idea pushing the wounds down onto the dirty floor, but he didn’t care. The temporary relief of pain just felt too good that he couldn’t stop himself.

A small break from the constant stress on his body.

Basking in the break from the constant supervision of the Butcher Army, even if that break came at the cost of him being locked inside a cell.

He had no idea how long he has been here in L’Manberg. An interesting city built inside a crater. They led him to this place, riding on their horses while pulling him along with a rope. It was a grueling two-day trip and as soon as the group arrived, they almost immediately put him to work.

First it just started out with him looking over their current armor and repairing what he could, then they began forcing him to create multiple sets of iron armor, claiming they would give him the resources and he should just work.

So, he did. He created armor sets, weapons and tools. Making new ones when they lost the gear, or it got destroyed. They put his work to the test. Fighting against each other to train. Using it against a horde of mobs, so there was never really a shortage of work.

The real trouble came when they suddenly presented him with diamonds. Ordering him to make them diamond armor but he didn’t know how. His expertise laid with iron work nothing else, but the group wouldn’t hear a no from him. Forcing him to figure out how to best create this diamond armor by showing him their old ones.

Luckily his knowledge seemed to somewhat extend to the new material as well. It took a while, but he soon found out different ways to create a similar product to that of his iron gear.

Diamond armor light but strong, the tools incredibly sturdy and in some cases sharp.

This seemed to be what the group was looking for. Yelling things like “This could rival netherite!” as they tried it out for the first time.

One day they brought him a new material. It was netherite. It was good thing that netherite behaved more like iron and was used as a coating for diamond gear, so Y/N could make this upgraded gear for them fast and easily.

The netherite complimented his work quite well. It received greater durability but also made it possible to sharpen the weapons even more so. Something about this material seemed to behave otherworldly to him which got confirmed to him once he found out that it came from the nether.

Naively Y/N had hoped that this was enough and that they would finally let him go and return to his village. His one true home. Though of course they didn’t let him go, saying that they still haven’t reached their goal and needed his help.

Still working him to the bone. His hands getting more and more hurt over time as he worked with the materials. The metal that coated them cracking more and more.

The villagers back home were left with the only few defenses he put up, which should be fine but also, he wanted to be there and make sure they were alright.

As he sat alone in the dark room, he let himself silently cry. He missed them so much. They would make sure he was alright, giving him an abundance of food and materials and whenever he refused to take more, they would look so insulted. If anything, the villagers were good-natured beings that believed in true reciprocity.

This seemed to be a foreign concept for the L’Manberg people or at least the Butcher Army. Increasing his fear and wariness for other humans even more. He never actually had any contact with other people outside of them, but he did learn a few things about the little group and what their opinion was of others.

For starters there were two people they saw as their ultimate enemies.

One called Dream and another called Technoblade.

From the things he heard and even the few question he managed to ask despite of his fear and anxiety, he gained the idea that these two must have been horrible tyrants. He almost got the idea that they were just beasts out here hunting their prey and trying to subject the other people under their own rule or ideologies.

And Y/N was scared of them. He didn’t want to meet them and make sure to stay far away but this was also how he felt towards the Butcher Army, conflicting thoughts and emotions brewing inside of him. The Butcher Army acted like they were the good guys, doing bad things for a good goal and Y/N wanted to believe in that. Wanted to believe that him suffering will bring something good as well but there were doubts.

Y/N laid his hurting hands on his biceps, squeezing them in pain as he tried to stifle his sobs. No matter what, he will make sure to not cry in front of them. It was stupid and unnecessary, but he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. Though then again, the only person who seemed to enjoy the feeling of power was Quackity. Fundy was a close second, but he looked mostly just forward to the new goods and the power he seemed to gain through them.

Tubbo and Ranboo were more passive. Especially Ranboo.

Quackity seemed to string Tubbo along most of the time, speaking to his pride as president of the nation and basically just whispering him what he should do, and the young president listened.

Ranboo tried to sometimes help Y/N. Giving him things like bandages for his wounds or giving him extra food and water, even trying to do small talk with him to lighten the mood. If the situation were different Y/N would have laughed at his awkward attempts for conversation.

While he appreciated it, it just hammered back in the feeling of homesickness.

He bit his lower lip as his thoughts began running a mile an hour again. Ranging from despair to him cursing out his captors. He was too kind to actually think things like “I hate them. I hate them so much.” Trying to believe there was a good reason for this, but he was getting tired. His work is getting more and more sloppy, and it was only a matter of time until Quackity and the others noticed.

There was no telling with how long he could take this anymore.

Y/N got back up only to fall into bed. There was nothing better to do here than sleep through the days and wait for the others to get him out.

As it turned out the others needed him early in the morning but this time it was different.

Quackity opened up the iron door to his cell with a sterner expression than usual. It surprised Y/N when he saw that Quackity had put the white apron on top of his new netherite armor. This was not a good sign. The last time he saw that armor on him was when Quackity escorted him to L’Manberg.

“Get up. We have something to do.” His voice was cold and strained. A hint of anxiety mixed in, or maybe it was anticipation after all.

Not even daring to hesitate, Y/N jumped off his bed. Wordlessly following his captor, soon noticing that this would not be a usual day for him.

Instead of turning to the smithy they set up for him, Quackity led him to the town middle where he saw the rest of the Butcher Army waiting. Decked out in Y/N’s best armor and horses in tow. Expressions pulled down into deep frowns.

But what confused him the most was that he counted five horses when there were only four members of the army. A bad feeling begun building up at the bottom of his stomach. Like a rock sinking down into the depths of water.

“What is going on?” Y/N managed to rasp out as the two reached the others.

Quackity collected the reigns of all the horses and pushed it into Y/N’s rough hands “It is time we finally get some retribution. We are going after Technoblade and we need your help for that. Your own armor is over there. Get ready while we have a little talk with Philza.”

He didn’t wait for an answer and instead moved towards Philza’s home, only to turn around one more time before they rung the bell in front of the house “And I swear by Ender if you run away, we will find you. We know the only probable place you would seek refuge in and even if you don’t, we will wreck that place.”

Then they sounded the bell. A familiar ringing that made Y/N’s heart ache even more.

There was no real choice, he just looked around and found his old iron armor laying on the ground. The scratches and damages from back when the Butcher Army found him still there. He never got the chance to repair it.

Y/N never really talked with Philza. He only saw him here and there. Usually whenever Philza passed him he would just stare. Just stare him down. Something going through his mind, but Y/N couldn’t possibly tell what. His expression always grim only to jump back into a relaxed smile. Y/N always thought his smile felt a bit off. Wrong even. Not the truth or hiding something.

When the door swung open again it gave away to a smug looking Quackity who happily swung around a compass by its chain around his finger. A proud looking Tubbo behind him, followed by Fundy who looked almost like he was sulking and Ranboo who had a complicated expression on his face. He didn’t feel comfortable.

“We’ve got what we need. Now, to Technoblade. Everyone on their horses! This includes you, Y/N.” Quackity exclaimed.

The bad feeling increased, creating a lump in his throat. Shakily he opened up his hand and let everyone get on their horses, leaving him with a beautiful black one.

Nervous he put his foot in the pedal of the saddle and heaved himself up on it.

He wanted to scream. Run away. What would they need him for? His armor was way inferior to that of the others, ignoring the fact that he couldn’t fight at all.

No, they didn’t need him to fight but be a shield for them. A moving shield. After all he was an Iron Golem Hybrid. Big areas of his skin covered in thin metal plates, not all connected so he could still move but it gave him more protection. That plus his height was what they counted on, wasn’t it? That he would still be imposing enough to draw attention.

This was the conclusion he came to due to Quackity. He heard him talking. All Y/N was to him was a tool, a resource to be used and the worst part was that Y/N just couldn’t defend himself against this. Too scared anything might happen to his home because Quackity was right, they knew exactly where his home was and how important this place was to him.

Y/N didn’t realize how suddenly Quackity slowed down his horse as they arrived in the snow biome only pulling him out of his anxiety filled thoughts as he began speaking to him directly.

“Here is the plan. We want to get Technoblade and-” He stopped himself as he searched for the right words “And hold him accountable. Yes, we will put him on trial. If we are lucky, he will just follow us, but we doubt it. If he refuses, he will likely fight us. We just need you to draw your attention on yourself but don’t worry, we will jump right in to take care of him.”

“I- I don’t, Quackity, I don’t- I can’t fight!” Y/N croaked out. It felt like ages since he last spoke.

But Quackity just smiled “Don’t worry.”

That was all he said before hurrying along to be back at the front of the pack. Holding the glowing compass close to himself.

Y/N knew. He knew this was the case and yet it felt like someone stuffed snow down his shirt. A cold shiver running down his spine. Panic rising even more. It was a good thing he was sitting on top of a horse, otherwise he wasn’t sure if his shaking legs could carry him for the rest of the way. Each step closer to what felt like his doom.

His doom? Would Technoblade kill him? The way the small Army described him, he wouldn’t hesitate to cut him down.

Was it bad he didn’t fear dying but just the potential pain?

Realizing where his thoughts were running off to, he shook himself. No, his home, his real home, needed him. He couldn’t die yet. He needed to find a way to survive.

Suddenly Fundy stopped his horse and moved his fist up in the air, signaling for the others to stop as well. While the others wondered why he did this, Fundy pointed ahead through the trees towards a figure? A person? Out here in the snowy tundra?

Without saying anything Quackity jumped off his horse, the others following suit and begun tying the animals to the trees. Once Y/N understood what was happening he did the same. His eyes darting back towards the figure that seemed to interact and cuddle with a blue sheep while he made sure his horse was secured to one of the trees.

“What’s Ghostbur doing here?” Ranboo whispered more to himself but Y/N caught it.

He heard of Ghostbur but actually never met him. Apparently, the ghost of the man that blew the nation up but that was really all he knew.

They approached the ghost on foot, calling out to him in the process to gain his attention. The ghost immediately waved towards them with an earnest and big smile on his face. Y/N was fretting for his life at the moment but something about Ghostbur almost calmed him down.

Maybe it was just the fact of meeting a new friendly face after being surrounded by the Butcher Army for so long.

Ghostbur approached them, the sheep following him via a leash “Hello Quackity! Hello Fundy! Hello Tubbo! Hello Ranboo! Oh! I don’t know your name! I’m sorry! Hello though! I’m Ghostbur!”

Y/N was a bit taken aback. He was so friendly.

“Y/N. My name is Y/N.” he surprised himself a little bit with how he just blurted it out.

Ghostbur cocked his head to the side as he listened “Nice to meet you Y/N! You don’t look too good! Are you doing alright? Oh no, was this rude? Do you want some blue? Maybe that will help!”

Before Y/N could even properly process what he could possibly mean with blue Quackity jumped in “Hey, Ghostbur. You know if Technoblade is close? Is he somewhere around here?”

Somehow Ghostbur managed to lighten up even more, which should be impossible but Ghostbur’s eyes widened into a fond recognition and he turned around “Yes! Yes! I got lost but I found Techno! He told me to go though! He is over there! Come with me, I’ll show you!”

The Ghost then begun floating off, leading the group between trees and soon arriving on a small hill that gave them a good view of a cottage house.

Seeing the homey build, it was difficult for Y/N to imagine that a monster lived there. If anything, it reminded him of his own home. Maybe he won’t fight? Maybe this will end peacefully? But somehow Y/N doubted it by the serious but eager expressions on half of the Butcher Army’s faces as their eyes fell on Techno’s home.

“Let’s go.” Quackity trotted down the hill “We all know what to do.”

Y/N’s heartbeat took on speed again. Everyone got their weapons out and even though Y/N was technically really strong due to his constant smithing work, the iron sword in his hand felt heavy. Like it could slip out of his hand any second.

Worried his eyes darted across the few windows of the house. Trying to get a glimpse of Technoblade but all he saw was a shadow moving away from one of the windows.

Did he see them approaching?

“Techno get out!” Quackity suddenly yelled, pulling Y/N back out of his anxiety filled thoughts once again.

It took a second but suddenly the wooden door opened up slowly and Technoblade got out. He wore netherite armor, a red gown with white fluff on his shoulders on top of the armor, a crown on top of his head, his pink hair pulled back.

With his scowling expression and stature, he looked scary.

Technoblade took a step outside on his porch, Y/N suddenly became very aware of how sharp his tusks looked.

“What do you want?”

With a deep breath Quackity took a closer step towards the Pig Hybrid “We are here to get you! We, the Butcher Army, are here to put you on trial!”

“Yes! It is time you take responsibility for the destruction of L’Manberg!” Fundy added on. Tubbo just nodded to show his support to this statement.

“And why should I follow you? I’ve retired, I don’t want to be a part of any of this anymore. I’m done.” Techno spoke.

Quackity turned around to look at Y/N for a second only to continue speaking with Techno “Well, either you follow us peacefully or we will force you. You can’t run away from what you have done! Come with us and stand trial!”

But he didn’t answer immediately, Techno moved down the porch. Almost circling the group, his eyes jumping around between them.

“Listen, guys. The voices in my head. They begged me for more blood. They demanded more but I refused. I purposefully got out here to deny them, just leave me be.”

“Techno, you spawned Withers in L’Manberg! People got hurt! They destroyed a huge part of our nation! You have to stand trial!” Tubbo readjusted his grip on his axe. He looked angry and almost bewildered.

Technoblade slowly shook his head “No, you don’t understand. I’m trying to keep away from all this for a reason! You are just pulling me back to things and-��

“No! You either come with us or we will make you! Five to one Techno, you think you can do that?” Quackity interrupted him, pointing his weapon at Techno.

Y/N was overwhelmed with the situation. The man in front of him, Technoblade, wasn’t how he imagined him. He tried to reason but the others wouldn’t want to hear it which Y/N could understand as well but this man didn’t look like the blood thirsty monster the others described him as.

The Pig Hybrid sighed, his eyes now instead of jumping around finally decided to rest on Y/N, who in return suddenly felt small under his gaze. Did Techno realize that Y/N was the attack bait? Is he falling for it? Or did he notice his trembling arms and legs. The fear and worry in his eyes. The burn wounds covering his hands and arms. The clearly damaged iron armor.

Was he seeing Y/N as prey or as the scared man that feared for his life he really was?

“What will it be, Techno?” Fundy snarled, showing of his sharp teeth.

His hands moved towards his side “If it has to be like that, then I choose blood!”

Then everything went really fast. His hands pulled out a few flask from his belt, hidden by his gown that he threw on the ground to buff himself.

The Butcher Army immediately grew panicked and barked orders, a clear and loud order from Quackity flew through the chaos and reached Y/N “Attack him, Y/N!”

And he didn’t know why but he moved in. He was scared, his heart felt close to exploding in his chest, but he was somehow more scared of Quackity and what could happen shouldn’t he listen. Scared that he would force him to work even more, refusing him sleep and food again. Not letting him treat his wounds properly that he got from the work.

So, he moved in. With shaking legs and what felt like without strength in his arms. The world turned blurry. Was he crying or just his nerves? He couldn’t tell.

All he remembered was Techno coming close to him, looking like a demon. His eyes wide and filled with what Y/N assumed to be bloodlust.

Y/N moved his arm up, just trying to hit Techno with his own sword, but Techno was faster. He slammed the blunt end of his netherite sword into Y/N’s neck. Shocked by the sudden attack, he fell to the ground. The world growing dark for a few seconds as he coughed and tried to breathe again.

As he sat in the cold snow, trying to calm down he heard the Army yelling. Metal clanging on metal.

Then it suddenly stopped.

A neighing. A horse? What?

Luckily Y/N seemed to have regained somewhat control over his own body and could assess the situation in front of him.

The Butcher Army seemed to be alright. Y/N’s armor really held through, no obvious damage on it. They were out of breath and sweating but alright.

A bit ashamed Y/N couldn’t help but be proud of his work that it withstood a buffed-up Techno with a netherite sword.

But what really caught his attention was Quackity who held the reigns of a horse with diamond armor. His axe held up close to the animal’s throat.

Technoblade moved the tip of his blade towards him “Get away from that horse, Quackity!”

“Follow us peacefully and nothing will happen to the horse, Techno. Your choice.”

There was a slight hesitation as Techno undoubtedly tried to gauge if he could somehow deal with Quackity differently but ultimately, he suddenly dropped his weapon as well his armor.

Perplexed Y/N got back up, still rubbing his neck.

Techno spared him. He obviously just tried to either knock him out or make him unable to fight, which he succeeded in. Wouldn’t it have been for Y/N’s reinforced skin due to his Iron Golem side he would have been knocked out for sure.

Fundy did not hesitate to jump in and wrap chains around Techno’s wrists “Y/N! You are the strongest one of us. You hold on to him, we will be close by to ensure he won’t run off.”

Avoiding looking at the others directly after having been taken out of the fight so easily, he made his way towards Fundy and grabbed the chains. Wrapping it a few times around his own arm as well. Feeling sick to his stomach as he realized that he was doing the same thing to Techno like back when the group escorted him out of his own village.

He couldn’t help himself but whisper towards Techno a quick “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

[hewantshisbrideback]

Jonrya AU: Other Engagements

Summary: The remaining Starks gather some time after the Long Night is won to discuss possible plans for marriages and alliances. With Jon crowned King of the Wall, ruling under Daenerys, High Queen of Westeros, discussion of who will reign by his side as queen over the north is paramount. But Jon is not the only wolf for whom a match must be made.

“Proposals," Rickon groaned and tossed back his head, auburn curls glinting. "My spear is still crusted with blood, and we're already talking of politics?"

"And how long a grace period were you expecting?" Arya snorted, shaking her head. Her dismissive words were born partially of relief. 

She had been speaking with the washer women when Jon found her and pulled her away. He had lead her to a small, stony room, recently rebuilt, containing only two windows, a small side table of wood, and her siblings gathered around in a semi-circle as if for a ritual. 

Her hackles had risen in an instant, but Bran had quickly laid her greatest fears to rest. There was no new tragedy to break their hearts, no new disaster to ravage their land; only the tedious intricacies of a civil society.

“A longer one,” the boy groused. Arya imagined that in his mind, there was likely no tragedy more agonizing than such tedious complexities.

“Oh? Are you inconvenienced?” She tilted her head at him. "Shall we postpone rebuilding the kingdom until the armory's polished nice and new?"

"Can we?" He asked. For a moment it was difficult for her to tell whether he was serious. Maybe the boy didn’t know himself. She cuffed him lightly over the head with a scoff just to be safe, and the grin that broke on his lips was wild.

Still, she had to admit he wasn’t exaggerating. Hardly a moon had past since the last dregs of the Others had been sighted, had been felled, and already there were talks of contracts, engagements, and promises between names she recognized only from war letters and fireside whispers.

During the blight, there had been hurried ceremonies in Great Halls, like that between Princess Val of the Free Folk and the gentle Willas Tyrell. However, there was no need for hushed vows in torch-lit gatherings anymore. What was left of the nobility, and whatever names had been gilded by the Long Winter, would want feasts, balls, parades through the streets.

Arya thought she almost preferred a quiet cloaking in the night. Perhaps that was only natural. After all, she had been present for the wedding of Val and Willas, and no better a pair had been made than they.

She recalled what a sight they’d been: the free woman’s flushed cheeks painted orange with firelight, the lord of the Reach’s nervous brown eyes pinned to his bride’s easy smile, rapt and adoring. They had danced for only a short song, but they had whispered all throughout, and had been whispering to each other ever since whenever she saw them.

The warrior princess and her lord of roses. She could count at least three songs that had been written of them since, the battles the lady fought and the bed of flowers her lord laid down for her, but none of them noted how they made each other laugh, how they sat at each other’s side like old friends.

"Bran is right,” Arya blinked from her thoughts in time to see Sansa grimace and continue, “We may have put aside our differences to face a greater threat, but that won't make for a lasting peace now that the threat is extinguished.”

"Fine," Rickon groused, then pursed his lips, surveying the room sullenly. "So, we're looking to pick up a queen already?"

Arya flinched, eyes snapping to Jon. Perhaps Rickon had been right to moan and whine. She knew her cousin would be married off eventually, now that he'd had a crown foisted onto him, but the idea of helping select his bride settled like shards of ice beneath her ribs. She cursed herself. How selfish she was. Finding a queen for the North was in the best interest of all who inhabited it, and here she was, unable to look at this as of yet faceless woman as anything but another competitor for Jon’s attention.

"A queen for the North?" Sansa contemplated, sounding as equally troubled as Arya felt. Her hopes that Sansa might object in her stead were dashed in an instant. "I suppose it bears discussing--”

"We can't," Arya blurted, panic coursing through her like lightning. Her siblings turned to stare at her. She flushed under their baffled eyes. Swallowing her shame and clearing her throat, she leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. "Well, we can't. We can't start making decisions yet. Not on our own. The dragons. They have a stake in this, too."

Jon lingered on her for a moment. She held her breath, brow cocked defiantly, but he made a noise of agreement that showed she need not have worried. "That's true. I'm heir, second to Aegon. Daenerys lets me keep my name, but she will want a say in who shares our blood all the same."

"You're right. It may be one day that the children of your union and hers are married themselves," Bran conceded. “It won't do to decide without her.”

Her sister nodded, expression poised and thoughtful. "That’s true. I suppose there should be some talk between us and her, even Aegon perhaps, before we think about who would be a suitable choice.”

The ice in Arya's chest melted, soft like relief, but colder and heavier, and she made an effort to ignore the stab of resentment at her sister’s next words.

“Jon, you can send her a message, invite her to share her thoughts. Of course, you could always visit her in person as well, if she prefers it.”

Jon's jaw ticked as he nodded, eyes flickering towards Arya, only to snap away as if it burned when she returned his gaze. For a moment, she was petrified. Had he noticed? Had he noticed how upset this talk of queens had made her?

"Alright," he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. "I'll draft a letter after supper."

His words were disappointing, and his tone was resigned, but it was also familiar. She felt her heart calm. It was no use to fret, over any of it. They were close, and given all that happened, it only made sense for her to be worried. She shouldn’t be afraid for him to see it. 

And at least the decision itself had been delayed some, Arya thought, staring at the ceiling, even if only until Daenerys had enough time to consider the best use of her nephew.

"Great!" Rickon looked around at each of them. "That's that, then, isn't it?” Sansa tutted at him for his impatience, and Bran shook his head, and Rickon threw up his hands. “If we can’t do anything without the queen’s say-so, why stand here brooding over it now? Just wait until she tells you what to do."

“She’s not just going to tell us what to do.” Arya tried not to quibble over semantics with Rickon, as he was still learning the world of kings and courts, but she couldn’t stop herself this time. “Daenerys isn’t a tyrant. No doubt she has prospects in mind, but the choice is ultimately Jon’s.”

“Which is why it’s worth going over the options now,” Sansa added on, “to prepare ourselves for when we do make that decision.”

“And we will,” Bran intercut, "but we can afford to set it aside today. There are still some other arrangements we need to consider.”

“What arrangements?” Jon rumbled, but the stiff set to his jaw and the scowl inching onto his lips made it clear he had some idea and, evidently, disapproved already.

If Bran sensed his ire, he ignored it. “Arrangements for the rest of the Starks."

Arya blinked. She had seen the eyes of visiting nobles and their kin lingering on her brothers and her sister. Even she had received some curious glances. But somehow she’d still managed to overlook the obvious, managed to fool herself into thinking that they had more time.

“Are we really to be parted from each other so soon?” she murmured.

Bran gave her an appreciative glance tinged with grief, and in that glance she felt all those lonely years already spent apart, a splintered pack. After spending this many fighting so hard to reunite, she felt sick imagining any of her family leaving Winterfell. No wonder Jon was on edge.

“I don’t like it,” Rickon grumbled in tandem with her thoughts, and from the looks on everyone else’s faces, they weren't the only ones. 

Sansa had folded in on herself, a brooding edge to her perfect mouth, but with Rickon’s complaint, she moved beside him, tucking his stray red curls behind his ear, a gesture that smacked of their late mother to a degree which hurt.

“Nevertheless,” she muttered after a moment, hand retracting and interlacing with the other, but she could not bring herself to follow through and continue the thought. No one could.

The room was still and heavy with preemptive sorrow, until Arya could bear it no longer. What would they do, sit in silence in this room until the fire dwindled and the sun set? There were meals to be had and men to appease, even just this evening, and waiting wouldn't stall the inevitable. Bran knew that. They all knew that. Sucking in a solemn, silent breath, she asked, “So then which of us is to be married first? And to who?”

Sansa opened her mouth, face wilted with regret, but Bran shook his head dismissing her, and the rest of them mirrored him. There was no need for a defense to be made.

“I’m well aware of the union between you and Sandor Clegane,” Bran assured her. “I would never ask you to break your vows. Aside from this, your first two marriages would have diminished your prospects regardless, one of which still needs to be annulled. Sansa is not an option. I mean you no offense, sister."

Sansa did not look offended. If anything, her expression spoke to some small, secret amusement. Arya was just glad that she wasn't weeping.

“No,” Bran continued, “by now, the attention of our allies has wandered to our other sister, Princess Arya.”

Arya was still beneath her brother’s cool, blue stare. She used to squirm whenever someone referred to her title aloud. By now, she’d nearly grown used to it. After all, she’d answered to far too many ill-fitting names to abandon Arya Stark for her accompanying titles, so she wasn’t left with much choice. 

Now, something in her felt hollow, as though if the wind began to blow, it would whistle through her insides, and she’d be able to hum without using her mouth.

“They intend to offer their sons to Arya." Jon's words were slow and pointed and metered all the way through. “Have they no daughters for you or Rickon?”

“I did not say that they are not looking out for their daughters as well,” Bran reasoned, just as slowly and emphatic as his cousin had. “But of the three of us, Arya is the most attractive option. She cannot give them a royal title, but it’s no secret what she means to you, and the North at large, or that she’s earned the favor of Daenerys. Every wifeless heir on the continent will be interested.”

She must’ve imagined the way his fists clenched. Jon was smart. Men underestimated him, always, but he was smarter than all of them. He should've expected this, even if, somehow, she hadn’t. Of course suitors would seek a princess’s hand. It would not matter to them whether that hand was supple or calloused. Jon knew that. If he didn’t, he should’ve.

If the world had taught her anything, it had taught her that nothing staves the ambition of powerful men. Not even death. Not even ugliness.

“Good.” The word startled her, even more than her sister’s soft hand suddenly pressing to her cheek. But she smiled, albeit with closed lips, as Sansa's furrowed gaze swept over her features like she'd never seen them, like she was trying to absorb all she could for safe keeping. “You’ll have your pick of the lot.”

“Septa Mordane would be quaking to hear such talk of Arya Horseface,” Arya snorted in response, provoking a wry smile from Bran, an expression she sheepishly mirrored.

“Be serious, Arya,” Sansa huffed with a noble frown, hand falling from her face to clutch her wrist in earnest. Arya adjusted her clasp so that they held hands instead, and Sansa's thumb swept the back of her hand in search of comfort. “That silly, old nickname couldn’t be more ill-fitting. You’re quite pretty now.”

Jon made an ill-tempered rumbling noise, and Arya wanted to press him, but refrained in front of the others. He’d been reserved since he was a child, but ever since the Long Night began, he’d been downright secretive. She wouldn’t pry, at least not until she’d gotten him alone.

“It’s true," Rickon cut in, offering a rakish grin. “You should hear the free folk talk of you, sister. They say such things I’ve had to threaten to gut near half of them. They might’ve tried to steal you already, if they weren’t so frightened of Jon. And me, too, of course!”

The others stiffened, but Arya saw his assurance for what it was and spared a moment to thank the old gods for her littlest brother. Though her gratitude didn’t prevent her from rolling her eyes.

“The freefolk have a might different set of standards than the noble lords of Westeros. I can only hope that my reputation is not too far spread. It’s too much harder to see a she-wolf wed than a proper lady,” she drawled, letting go of Sansa as she paused and turned to him with a shrug. “Though I suppose in another world, a marriage with some wily freefolk warrior might've suited, and done well to unite the North.”

Rickon puffed up with pride, though on behalf of whom she had no idea.

“You can’t be serious,” Sansa huffed, then turned an admonishing glare on her brothers. “I know that you have all grown quite fond of the wildlings, having spent so much time with them, but however helpful they’ve been, there is hardly a suitable match for a lady amongst them.”

“A princess, now,” Bran reminded her, and Sansa nodded firmly.

“Suitable how?”  A sneer curved on Rickon's mouth. “I’m not the one who wants to marry her off, but a free man can be good as any lord of Westeros. It wasn’t a wildling who tortured the poor girl in Arya’s stead, was it? And your good Joffrey was a prince. It seems that didn’t stop him from being vile.”

“Rickon!” Arya snapped in warning.

The youngest Stark stared her sister down, burning as remorselessly as the sun, but Sansa’s face was stone and her eyes blue flint.

“That is not what I meant,” she amended calmly. “Of course, the wildlings are no more capable of cruelty than the rest of us. That being said,” her words sharpened to points, like they were her talons, "the lords of Westeros will not stand to see one Stark sister married to a former knight and the other to a wildling. Not when order has just been settled and peace is still in question. If we marry Arya to a wildling, we spit in the faces of our Northern lords and our Southron neighbors both.”

“Aside from that, we don’t need another tie to the free folk,” Bran noted mildly. “With Tormund in our council, Val in the reach, and Jon their chosen king, their loyalty is as guaranteed as we could hope.”

Arya shrugged. “Well, as far as I've heard, if I were to be stolen, I'd hardly be in a position to refuse."

"Perhaps not, but I don't think Jon would be all too pleased to wake up and find you stolen by one of his subjects." Bran was watching Jon as if it were his sole, solemn duty. "I imagine they'd only get so far before he stole you back."

Jon flinched violently and it was a shock, how pale and harrowed he looked. 

"It’s not like anyone could ever steal me away in the first place," Arya reminded him quietly, and when he looked at her, his mouth was pressed into a bitter facsimile of a smile.

“Unfortunately,” Rickon mumbled, and when Sansa and Jon simultaneously turned to glare, he merely scuffed his foot against the ground defiantly. "I mean it. At least then she could've stayed in Winterfell.”

Ridiculous boy. Arya nearly pulled him into a hug, but Bran interrupted her before she could move and his next words kept her still.

"It's not entirely out of the question,” he professed. “It’s possible she’ll find a suitor who will be able to reside in the North."

Arya felt her heart stutter. “You mean, like someone who’s not an heir?”

“No,” Sansa asserted. “If you snub the heir of one house for another’s second son, their entire territory will take it as an offense.”

“No, I was not specifically thinking along those lines,” Bran amended. “There are those with other circumstances under which you may be able to remain.” His eyes slid curiously to one of the windows as he tilted his head. "Ned Dayne, for example. We’ve received word that he intends to act in service to the Queen’s Greater Westerosi Council. You get along well, don't you?"

Jon stepped forward before she could reply, straightened to his full height. His stare was locked on her, stark and unyielding against the pallor of his cheeks, like stones atop snow dunes. "How do you know the Sword of the Morning?"

Arya felt apprehension tighten like a cord around her throat.

This had been the way since they’d reunited.

When Jon introduced her to his allies, she’d beamed like the sun. They had delighted her, despite her jealousy, for all the years she’d spent apart from him, that he’d been with them instead. The jealousy didn’t matter as much as the relief that he’d found friends. She took them as her own. She had been excited for him to do the same with hers. She had been so sure he would, it hadn’t even felt like hope. She’d just known.

But when she brought Jon to Gendry, explained who he’d been to her, he met the smith with suspicious words and a dark glare. When she told him of Hot Pie, or Lommy, or Weasel, or any of the number of sailors and whores from Braavos, he answered only with sarcasm and silence. And the Hound...

Now she’d be the first to point out that Sandor Clegane had not been her friend, or her ally, when they first travelled together. But she would also admit, begrudgingly, that he’d become something close by the time he accompanied her to the Wall with the Brotherhood. Jon had known that. Still, when Sansa brought the Hound into their home as her husband, Arya had heard the King of the Wall bellowing his objections from the other side of Winterfell.

"We travelled together, for a time," she replied carefully. Her tongue suddenly felt too big for her mouth. "Not very long.”

“When?” he prompted impatiently.

“When I was with the Brotherhood,” she confessed, “back when it was still lead by Beric Dondarrion.”

“You didn’t say anything.” In other circumstances, these words might’ve been a mere observation, or even an expression of concern, but here and now, they were an accusation.

He had mentioned the Sword of the Morning to her before in passing, but by that time, around the time poor Morgan Umber started running away whenever she waved in his direction, she had heard just about everything he had to say about her friends. So she had decided not to mention it. That would be easier.

Except now it looked like she’d been keeping secrets. She cursed the gods and all they stood for. “He wasn't the Sword of the Morning then — just a boy."

"Oh, just a boy," Rickon snorted. "Just another boy, you mean?"

Jon glowered but said nothing.

"That's right," Sansa tittered, with a sudden little smile. "You’ve collected so many. The blacksmith, the baker. Even that boy from House Umber. And now, the heir of Starfall."

"Gendry wouldn’t be a bad match either," Rickon piped up, a grin forming. Like Jon, he had been wary of the smith when Arya first introduced them, but unlike Jon, that had since changed. There was a higher degree of respect between the Free Folk and the Brotherhood than between either of them and any of the other factions. They worked together more easily, and more often, and Rickon was always with Osha and the free folk. Between this growing familiarity and Gendry's formidable reputations both as the Bull of the Brotherhood and the Arm of Stoneheart, a friendship had formed.

Her sister, on the other hand, had been entirely lukewarm when it came to the blacksmith. It was clear she saw him as beneath Arya’s station, but he was useful and she’d kept any complaints to herself, likely as recompense for Arya’s support for her and Sandor. This worked in Gendry’s favor as Sansa hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, only saying, "Who knew your habit of collecting strays would come so in handy?"

Arya's cheeks warmed. "They're not strays."

Rickon shrugged. "Not anymore, I suppose.”

"They're allies!” She insisted. “They're vital allies."

This time, Bran shrugged. "They can be both," he suggested innocently.

Arya growled and whacked his shoulder gently, turning to Jon for even a drop of support, but the only thing she found was frustration marring his brow. They were stalling again, wasting time. Arya sobered. She felt a bit like a child, finding Jon so troubled and having been so oblivious.

"Jon?” she ventured. “What are you thinking?"

He was quiet for a moment and she thought he might scold them, but instead he responded, "It's as Sansa said before. A knight is hardly a suitable match for a princess, let alone a smith."

Arya prickled at his words. True as they may be, in the political sense, the insinuation that her friends were somehow beneath her would never sit well with her. She knew that Jon was just being practical, that he had too much sense to hold a man's status against his character. 

But then, he seemed to make many exceptions to sense when it came to those she cared about. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to marry Gendry, but she knew she’d prefer him to most, and she wasn’t about to let Jon discount him without objection.

"Gendry isn't just a smith.” She reminded him stiffly, fighting to remain civil as he huffed and turned away. "He leads the Brotherhood without Banners. He has earned the respect of Westeros.”

"And the smallfolk adore him. He's not just some war hero to them," Rickon added eagerly, looking to her, and she nodded him on. “He means something more. The whole Brotherhood does. They love them.”

"And he may not be a lord, by his own choice," Arya concluded, "but he is a Baratheon. That could mollify at least some of the lords."

"And would it mollify Daenerys? Or Aegon?" Jon snapped. "When it was a Baratheon who killed their family and sent them into exile in the first place? I may be their kin but I can only do so much to protect you."

"I thought that Daenerys granted immunity and legitimacy to Robert's children in exchange for recognizing Targaryen rule?" Sansa asked, hands moving to her hips. "Even Edric Baratheon has bent the knee."

"So how do you think she feels about Gendry, then, the only bastard to refuse her offer of a title and land? And the leader of a band of fools," Jon spat the word like it tasted foul on his tongue, "who reject the authority of anyone who wears a crown?"

Why Jon was suddenly spouting hostility at the Brotherhood he'd vocally appreciated during the war, Arya wasn't sure, but as much as she took issue with his slander, it wasn’t the time to bring it up. "If Daenerys does see the Brotherhood as a threat, then a marriage between us could be a means of establishing peace before a conflict breaks out...”

The look Jon gave her was that of a wounded animal with its prey cornered. She forgot what she had been about to say.

"If you think," he hissed, "that I'm going to risk your life on the premise that it might prevent disputes between that menace and the Crown, then I am going to have to disappoint you."

"And what of Edric Dayne?"

Arya could only watch as Jon turned away to face her sister, whose chin jutted out defiantly at the king. That imperious timbre sent shivers down Arya’s spine. She hadn’t heard her sister take such a lofty tone with Jon in ten years.

Jon, on the other hand, just sounded irritated. "What of him?"

"As a candidate for Arya's husband,” Sansa deadpanned, as unamused with him as he was with her. “Is something wrong with him?"

"Is this not the boy that used to traipse around with the same Brotherhood?" Jon enunciated his words as if he was speaking to someone extraordinarily slow and particularly annoying, and if his goal was to offend, then by the way Sansa bristled, he had succeeded.

"His involvement with the Brotherhood was minimal, contingent on his position as Ser Dondarrion's squire, and has already ended," she pointed out hotly. "It would have to, either way, seeing as he's not just a lord, but the heir to Starfall." 

"And you think as the heir to Starfall, he and his bride will not be obligated to return to Starfall?" Jon replied just as impatiently. "He could afford to pick up the mantle of Sword of the Morning and run around the continent as a knight during the war, but do you truly think he will forfeit his responsibilities at the behest of a girl he knew when he was a squire?"

"But what if he forfeits his claim? If he intends to work for the council, he will."

"Then there is no guarantee he settles here."

“Oh,” Sansa made a cruel, ladylike sound, something like a laugh but not. "Is that all?"

The whites of Jon’s eyes had never been so visible. "Is that all?"

"Is that all, that she may have to leave? Is that your only qualm?"

"He offers her nothing!"

"He's a lord. He's an heir." Sansa lifted a finger with each point she made. "He's a war hero. He's a celebrated ally to the Martells, and to the Targaryens!"

Jon scoffed, loud, and so unlike him at all that Arya's jaw fell a little. "If a king with Targaryen blood is not enough to guarantee peace with the Targaryens, then a marriage to Edric Dayne will do no better! He offers her nothing!"

"He offers her security and kindness!" Sansa roared, calm breaking like the sea against cliffs. "He and Arya are not just familiar with each other — they're friends. Do you understand how rare and precious it is? As far as safety and happiness can go, there's no better assurance than that."

"What of our assurance?" Rickon snapped, stepping into line with his cousin, opposing Sansa. "We can offer her better than that."

"Exactly, Rickon!" Jon crowed, towering above them all even as he leaned in to emphasize his point. "Her family, in Winterfell, is better than that."

Her sister sputtered at his malice, turning to Arya, but she could only stare back, face still slack with surprise. Helpless, Sansa seethed, shaking her head at them all. "And so, what? She will never marry anyone?"

"I don't see why she has to," Rickon grumbled, but Arya barely heard him as Jon crossed over to her, took her by the shoulder, and tucked her into his side. "At least right away.”

"She doesn't," Jon agreed, gaze soft and raw, as if he’d been stripped bare and bleeding before her and didn't mind at all. What was she supposed to do? This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Time? But then he said, “She won’t.”

Sansa shrunk back as if slapped and Arya stilled under his arm. This was a voice she'd only heard him wield on the battlefield, or in court, deep as a wolf and imperious as a dragon. He had never been the king with them, not with his family, no matter how they'd fought or what over. But now, he’d raised his head to look at Sansa with narrowed eyes, and did not seem to see a cousin at all.

He continued steadily, "We have every right to keep her."

Sansa’s teeth were small and peeked out from her mouth like she wanted to run but when she met Arya's gaze, her mouth shut. She straightened her posture, her chin dipped low and humble this time. "You are a Targaryen king, but you're not her head of house. You may have a say, but the final word is Bran's."

Jon’s grip tightened and Arya winced as he positioned himself between the two sisters, almost as if to make sure Sansa wouldn’t reach out and grab her.

"Oh, did you forget?" she asked, so elegantly applying salt in the wound.

"It seems Bran has," Arya interjected. "Surely he has something to add?"

She looked to her brother, silently imploring, but he merely made a contented hum. Part of her wanted to tear her hair out, another wanted a go at his. She did not see what was so amusing about their siblings spitting and hissing at one another over her marriage prospects. Jon and Sansa were volatile enough as it is, some days managing genuine cordiality and others only just barely maintaining a facade of civility. This couldn’t help.

"Bran will do what's best for Arya," Jon spoke on his behalf, drawing her even closer, so her chest was pressed to his ribs. His heat warmed her like a furnace. "I trust him with that much. He loves his sister."

"And I don't," Sansa inhaled, eyes wide and stepping back. "That's what you mean, isn't it? Be honest with us, Jon. Arya and I have made our peace and moved past our childhood quarrels, but clearly, you haven't. You still hold them against me, don't you?"

"It's nothing like that," Arya assured her with a furrowed brow, gesturing for her cousin to corroborate. Jon didn't say a word.

Sansa looked down at her and soon deflated. "What would you know? He's an entirely different person to you.” She turned back to Jon, her voice low and scathing. “You’re making me look like a villain for suggesting she marry at all, but I’m just trying to find her someone who will be good for her before it’s too late. I will not allow her to suffer like I did.”

"No, you would just exile her from her home, to live with strangers.” There was no room for argument. There never had been. “Arya has been away from home long enough without you sending her away once more."

"Away from home, or away from you?”

She might’ve said more, she must’ve said more, and Jon must’ve said more too, but Arya couldn’t stand to hear another a word of it. What was the point of this bickering and bullshit? All the while Bran just sat there with that inscrutable certainty as his eyes trailed after Jon, and what did any of it matter?

“Enough!” she howled, pushing at his chest and ripping out of Jon’s reach.

His arm hung in the air for a moment, expression hurt, but she didn't have the time to be sorry.

"Were either of you going to ask me what I thought? Or are you two happy assuming you know what's best for me, as well as the North, and the rest of the kingdoms?" she snapped. Sansa, Jon, and even Rickon all began speaking at once, but she'd had enough of listening for an entire week. “Shut up! I’m sick of it. I’m sick of all of you.” She sneered. “What a waste of time.”

Sansa objected, and Jon tried to defend himself, but it had been, nothing but a waste of time and a strain on their throats. If this was the way things would go, she was better off being stolen by the free folk. She was half tempted to leave her window open in invitation. They might not even have to bind and carry her.

"We are not going to make these decisions in a single evening," Bran's voice raised now, cutting through the clamor like a sword through cloth. "I knew that when I brought it up. Although, I had thought we'd at least get the chance to discuss some of the prospects for Rickon and me. But that can wait for now. We have other engagements to attend to.”

"Right," she croaked. Meals and men. Meals and men. She was supposed to meet with Ser Davos and Lord Manderley. Through the window, the sky was orange. She swallowed, but her throat kept dry. "I'm already late. I have to go.”

She moved to leave, and Jon moved to follow, but Bran called out and asked him to wait as the door swung shut behind her, and that was the last she allowed herself to hear before breaking into a sprint.

X

@mysticalmuddle This isn’t the fic I was talking about before, but I thought you might like to be tagged anyway, seeing as you’re basically the sole reason I ever post my fics! Thank you for all your encouragement, you are amazing.

[myhockeyworld87]

Under My Skin - Matthew Tkachuk

Word Count: 3,644

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, NSFW

Summary: Matthew can be a pest but what happens when your ex, Auston Matthews get under his skin.

Notes: So I’m having a sad bitch moment and thought, why not post this. I finally broke down and wrote for this boy. Who knows if it’ll happen again...haha! At any rate hope you guys enjoy. Happy Reading!

Matthew first met you over a year ago when you’d moved to Calgary for work. You had just finished your degree and a job opportunity had landed you in the same city where he was playing. You’d been out at the bar with some co-workers and had caught his eye immediately. You were everything that Matthew was looking for in a woman, smart, funny, incredibly gorgeous, with a charm that seemed to draw everyone around you in. You were like a magnet and Matthew couldn’t resist your pull.

 That first night he’d barely been able to talk to you. You’d been besotted with people left and right, and it seemed as though every time Matthew worked up the courage to speak with you, you would get pulled away. Matthew finally ran into you on the way to the restroom. Like, literally ran into you. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Matthew apologized steadying you with a hand on your waist. His hand lingered a little longer than necessary but you weren’t complaining.

 “It’s ok I wasn’t paying attention.” You held up your phone in defense. You’d been so distracted by a text, that you really weren’t watching where you were going. “Did you ever have someone text you that you hoped you’d never hear from again?”

 It was an interesting introduction to a conversation but then Matthew would take any opportunity he could get to speak to you. “Actually, yes.”

 “It’s so annoying, right?”

 “Well, there is a way to solve that problem.”

 Your eyes held his with rapt attention, and Matthew could tell you were clinging to his every word. It was then that it struck him that he never wanted that look to fade from your face. “How?”

 “Come have a drink with me and forgot about whoever it is on that phone.” You smiled. It was a bright, brilliant thing of beauty that Matthew swore could light up the night sky on its darkest days. He was sold right then and there, and with just that simple gesture you had no idea that you’d swooped in and stolen his heart that night.

 You forgot about that text message fairly quickly and just settled into an easy conversation with Matthew. The night flew by and before you knew it, your co-workers were calling it a night and you were all heading home. Matthew asked for your number which you gave in hopes that he would call you soon. Little did you know that after you left, Matthew debated with himself on how long to wait to text you. Every unsaid rule in the code of dating said to wait for at least forty-eight to seventy-two hours before making a move, but Matthew was never one to follow convention. As he lay in bed, he decided to send you a quick message.

 Had a great time tonight.

 It was short and to the point, and Matthew figured if you answered then he would ask you out again. Unfortunately, for Matthew, he wasn’t the only one texting you as you crawled into bed after taking off all your makeup. You were just getting ready to reply to Matthew when another text came in. It was the fourth of the night from the same person that had messaged you before, Auston Matthews.

 You hadn’t spoken to him in months, back when you were in Toronto, and you didn’t plan on speaking to him now, though he seemed to be trying his hardest to get your attention, just as he had been for the last couple of months. Your relationship with Auston had been nothing short of toxic. Oh sure, at first it was all hearts and roses in the beginning. Auston swept you off your feet with that charming smile of his, but then you were young and the flashy NHLer said all the right things, at first.

 You weren’t normally one to tumble into bed right after the first date, though that’s what happened with Auston. He made it seem like you were the only one, but after dating him for only four months you’d found out that wasn’t true. Oh, he tried to brush it off, make it seem like he wasn’t cheating. That the panties you’d found lying tucked between the nightstand and the bed were some old fling and not some random hookup he’d brought home. You wanted to believe him and so you let your heart overpower your head and stayed with him until you’d literally walked in on him in bed with another woman. There was no talking his way out of that one.

 It was an easy decision to break things off with him, though he kept trying to win you back. You were good for his image and he thought that he could keep you happy while he had some fun on the side. The only thing was you didn’t want him back, even though his friends tried to helped his cause. That’s when you decided to take the job in Calgary. It was an easy decision six months ago. Which is part of the reason it surprised you when he texted tonight. He was in Calgary for a game and wanted to talk. You’d honestly were debating seeing him when you’d run into Matthew.

 Matthew, you sighed. His curly hair and shaved sides gave off this bad boy vibe, but as you sat there and talked to him, you’d realized he had to be one of the sweetest men out there. You hadn’t realized at first who he actually was. Auston had turned you off to the NHL scene altogether, so you no longer paid attention to the games, even if hockey was Canada’s major sport. Honestly, you wish you didn’t know he was in the NHL. It was part of the reason you were debating about answering him. Maybe you would just sleep on it and decide in the morning.

 Meanwhile, Matthew was having a mild panic attack. He told himself that maybe you lived close to the bar and had already fallen asleep before you got his text, or that you’d turned off your phone the minute you got home. He constantly kept checking his, looking for those three little dots letting him know that you were sending something back. It was torturous.

 You laid there all of twenty minutes before you decided that you couldn’t resist the curly-haired man that had captured your attention tonight. Grabbing your phone, you shot off a quick, I did too. You typed and erased it three times, wondering if you should add more before finally pressing the send button. There it was done, if he said something back, you’d go from there. Fifteen seconds later, you knew you were in trouble.

 Maybe we could do it again sometime?

 Matthew was sweating as he hit send. He’d never been this nervous before about a woman. They either liked him or didn’t, but you, you were different. He knew that from the moment he saw you. It was even more prevalent now after he’d spent most of the night with you.

 I’d like that.

 Was your simple reply back. One that had Matthew ready to jump up and out of bed with excitement. And so the texting went on for the next ten minutes until he finally ended up calling you. The two of you talked for over an hour, almost as if you’d known each other all your lives, and you completely forgot about the texts from Auston.

 Matthew took you out three days later to an exclusive restaurant in the city. This time you told yourself you’d not make the same mistake you’d made with Auston. So, when the night drew to a close, Matthew drove you to your apartment then very properly walked you to the door and only kissed you on the cheek. It wasn’t what you expected. You’d thought he’d go for more, but Matthew wanted to do things right. He knew you were special and he wasn’t going to mess things up by sleeping with you on night one. He was in this for the long run.

 That was over a year ago. Sure, it had been difficult at first to give him your complete trust, but Matthew had earned it and over time you knew that although he may be a pest on the ice, he was anything but that in your personal life. Now the two of you shared a home and were on your way to making a life together.

 You’d kept your relationship on the down-low, staying off of all forms of social media to keep the wolves at bay. Which meant that no one, including Auston, knew that you and Matthew were dating. That was until he and everyone else saw you in the background of Taryn’s video for Brady’s twenty-first birthday. The picture highlighted Brady but behind him, there was Matthew nibbling on your neck and ear. Fans picked up on it right away, wondering who you were and Matthew decided he was tired of hiding the two of you. A week later he was posting a picture of the two of you holding hands on your way back to Calgary.

 That was dozens of posts and months ago. Your life with Matthew was nothing short of amazing, until the Flames played the Leafs. Matthew was in Toronto while you stayed back in Calgary for work. It was an early game and you joined the other wives and significant others in a small little watch party. Drinks were flowing freely, so you really didn’t catch the exchange between Matthew and Auston in warmups.

 Matthew was minding his own business as he stretched near the centerline. That’s when Auston started with the little jabs. “Nice little piece of ass you picked up Tkachuk.” Matthew was used to guys talking shit about all kinds of things on the ice, though normally it was about him being a dirty player or how Brady was the better Tkachuk on the ice; all that shit he could handle. He wasn’t used to someone taking stabs at you.

 “Shut the fuck up Matthews,” he replied then skated away. If Auston was looking for a fight, he’d get one if he kept up this banter, but not until the game started.

 It wasn’t until the end of the first that Auston got a chance to chirp Matthew again. “Tell me, Tkachuk, does (Y/N) still make the same pretty moans…”

 “Finish that and you’ll regret it,” Matthew told him. It was the only warning Matthew was going to give. Of course, Matthew knew that you’d dated someone in the hockey world and that he’d been a verifiable asshole. He’d never pressed the issue too much as he was trying to turn that stigma about hockey players around. He never liked Auston, he was always cordial to him in non-ice settings but now that he knew he was the cheating bastard who basically used you; he liked him less.

 Play resumed before anything else could happen and Matthew was sure to get in a few good checks in before heading back for the first intermission. When he was back on the ice for the second Auston picked up right where they had left off. “So, you like my sloppy seconds, Tkachuk?” Matthew saw red at the insult, and before he knew what he was doing he dropped his gloves and hit Auston. Inwardly, you cringed at the fight, not wanting to let on to the other girls that you had an idea what the exchange was about. Auston went down easy, with Matthew barely touching him, and so off the penalty box he went, while the Leafs went on the power play. You could see him just sitting there stewing, though you weren’t sure if he was mad at himself for letting Auston get to him or mad at you.

 The game ended up tied in the third, and little did you know that Auston took the opportunity to get a few more digs into Matthew. “Does she get as wet for as she did for me, or do you have to work for it?” Johnny had to hold him back from leveling him after that, but Auston didn’t let up. “She was such a fucking slut for me in bed. You know I fucked every hole…” That’s all he got out before going down hard as Matthew planted a right hook to his jaw. But Matthew wasn’t done and went after Auston as he lay on the ice. Matthew was ejected from the game and the Leafs scored on the power play.

 There was no interview after the game with Matthew, so you had no idea what he was feeling or how pissed he was. As soon as you got home, you tried to call him but it went straight to voicemail. You tried to tell yourself it didn’t mean anything that maybe he never turned his phone back on after the game or maybe they were already on the flight back to Calgary, as the team played at home the following day, but you just weren’t sure. So, you laid in the king-size bed you shared with Matthew, wrapped up in your favorite old t-shirt of his, simply staring up at the ceiling.

 At some point, you must have fallen asleep, for you didn’t hear the door open or Matthew dropping his bag like you usually did. It wasn’t until he crept into bed that you finally knew he was home. He was laying on his back, hands behind his head when you finally rolled over letting him know you were awake. You’d thought about what to say to him before falling asleep but waited for him to say something to you. When he didn’t you simply whispered, “If you want me to go I will.”

 “Go?” Matthew questioned now rolling on to his side so he could see you. “Why would I want you to leave?”

 “I never wanted to be a problem for you, Matthew, especially not with other players.” It was part of the reason you’d never told him that you’d dated Auston, though you should’ve known that Auston couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

 You went to say more, but Matthew stopped you. “You’re not the problem (Y/N). You could never be one.” His fingers ran up and down your arms lightly, just caressing your skin. “I love you, baby.”

 “I love you too.” His lips found yours then, and you melted into the feel of him, savoring how his body started to relax against you.

 “Auston’s an asshole.” Matthew finally said, when the two of you broke apart.

 “Do I even want to know what he said?”

 “Just shit to get me riled up, and it worked.” Your one hand went to the back of his neck, massaging the knotted muscles there. “I’m not stupid. I realize what probably happened between the two of you. I just don’t like hearing it.”

 “We both have pasts, Matthew. We can’t change that, but you’re my future.”

 He gave you a real quick peck to your lips. “And you’re mine. At least I don’t have to deal with him for a couple weeks.”

 You pushed him onto his back before straddling his hips. “Don’t let him get under your skin, babe. When he starts to say something…” you looked him right in the eyes. “And you know he will. Just remind him how you’re the only one I want with me.” You flexed your hips before running your hands up his bare chest. “And in me.” Matthew’s hands went to your waist, where he played with the band of lace on your panties. “You’re more to me than he’ll ever be. Both here,” you taped your heart and then his. “And here.” Lifting your hips, you took your hand and cupped the length of him. His cock instantly hardened under your touch.

 Your words spurred Matthew into action, for the next thing you knew he was ripping your panties, before shimming out of his boxers. His fingers went to your folds, where he found you ready for him. “Fuck you’re so wet.”

 “Only for you Matthew. Only for you.” It was extra reassurance that you knew Matthew needed and tonight you’d give him as many as he needed. He guided your hips down onto his cock and you sighed out with pleasure as he filled you like no one else ever had.

 As you grabbed the hem of your t-shirt Matthew whispered harshly, “Leave it on.” It was one of his Flames shirts; one that had both his name and number on the back. Leaning down you kissed him long and hard, before starting to ride him. It was slow at first, a pace meant to build you both up but not push you over the edge. His hands were everywhere, under your shirt caressing your breasts, wandering down your back to cup your ass, and moving up and down your thighs to quicken your speed.

 Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer and he flipped your bodies so that he loomed over top of you. His thrusts were deep and hard, almost punishing if your body hadn’t wanted him so bad. “You belong to me.” He said as he flexed into you, pushing you up against the headboard.

 “Yes, baby. Only you.”

 “Who?” He asked again and you realized that he was not in the mood to hear any pet names.

 “You, Matthew, you,” you answered knowing that he owned you both body and soul, just as you owned him.

 “That’s right, baby.” Matthew's thrusts were deep and sure, as he knew what would bring you pleasure, and with a few more flexes of his hips, he sent you spiraling out of control, screaming his name.

 “MMMAAATTTTTTTTTTHHHHEEEEEWWW.”

 That was all he needed to catch his high and follow you down, your name on his lips. He rolled onto his side taking you with him; your breaths mingling together as you both calmed. Your nails skimmed down his spine aimless, something you tended to do after sex. Matthew always said he loved the continued intimacy it brought, and tonight it felt like you both needed that. His lips found yours, the kiss loving and tender. “I love you, (Y/N),” Matthew whispered while brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “And I promise, I won’t let Auston get to me next time.”

 “Good, because you’re the only man I love Matthew, and the team doesn’t need you getting ejected from games because of me.”

 “It won’t happen again.” You truly hoped that it wouldn’t but with Matthew’s temper you never knew.

 It was a little over two weeks later that the Flames were taking on the Leafs, this time at the Saddledome, where you were in attendance. Admittedly, you were a bit nervous on the inside as to what would happen between the love of your life and the once lowlife that you'd briefly called boyfriend. You tried to shake off your nerves with idle chatter with some of the girls, but your eyes always seemed to drift back to where Matthew and Auston were on the ice.

 Matthew for his part stayed away from center ice for warmups, just like he told you he would. It wasn’t until the second period after a blown whistle that Auston finally decided to poke at him. “How’s that girlfriend Tkachuk? You know if I told her I wanted her back she’d leave you in a second.”

 “I doubt that Matthews. She told me you couldn't satisfy her in the bedroom. Something about cumming too soon.” Anger started to radiate across Auston’s face. “You should see a doctor about that.” Matthew skated away, completely ignoring anything Auston would be able to say back.

 The game was tied late in the third once again when Auston tried to rile Matthew up again. Considering he had two assists you understood why they wanted your boyfriend out of the game. “It wasn’t me who had the problem Tkachuk, (Y/N)’s pussy was wider than the Grand Canyon.”

 “Hmm,” Matthew taunted back. “Must be your small pencil dick, because she’s so tight it’s like a vice-grip around me.” Auston took offense and cross-checked Matthew into the boards right as the play began, earning him two minutes in the penalty box. Matthew laughed at him as the ref took him over. Auston wasn’t there for long, as Matthew scored the game-winning goal forty-some seconds into the penalty. You jumped up out of your seat with the rest of the girls cheering and screaming.

 Even though they pulled the goalie, the Leafs couldn’t seem to find the back of the net before the buzzer sounded ending the game. You made your way down to wait outside the tunnel with the rest of the significant others. Most everyone was gone before Matthew finally came out, scooping you up in his arms. “Did you see that baby?”

 “I saw Matty,” you told him, kissing him on the lips. “That goal was impressive.”

 He finally set you back down on your feet. “No babe, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t let him get to me.”

 “Yeah, I saw that too. I’m so proud of you.”

 “Well, he can’t get under my skin about you, when I get to be all over yours.” His hands slid under your sweater and inside your jeans to cup your ass. “Speaking of your skin…let’s go home so I can get you out of all these clothes and see you.”

 You kissed him, long and languidly, before pulling back. “I like that idea. I like it a lot.” The two of you left the arena hands interlaced just as your bodies would be as soon as you got home.  

.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Children can be assholes

Summary:  

Children can be fucking assholes. Actually, they were fucking assholes, too much of a bunch of assholes that Levi wondered what future generation his fellow soldiers had dedicated all their fucking hearts to.

And why did it take him having his own child to realize just that?

Levi and Hange's child gets bullied and the two contemplate their parenting styles. 

Written for Levihan Week 2021, Day 4: Childhood.

Link: AO3

Notes:

@levihanweek Day 4: Childhood

I don't know if this is still accepted because it's so late huhu. But I was on a slight hiatus for a while I was in the US since I don't see my family there often.

I'm in the Philippines again so I think I'll have an easier time going back into writing regularly.

Children were unreasonabe little shits and his own son was no exception. In fact, his experience with his own son might have been the sole reason Levi held on so tightly to that belief in the first place.

“Daddy, can we buy the cereal?”

“No.” The response was automatic and it had been automatic since the kid started asking for that damn cereal two weeks ago. During my time we didn’t even have cereal. Levi opened his mouth to say it.

“Why don’t you give it?” Hange spoke up first. Her own contribution had seemed to come out of nowhere especially since she had been neck deep in some research papers until a while ago.

Most days, she would have left by the time they had that conversation and Levi was in no mood to fill her in on it. He turned to his son. “Would you even finish it?”

Luke’s were trained expectantly at Levi, his eyes wide. He looked innocent, confused.

If Levi stared for any longer, he might just buy it. He averted his gaze, and snuck a glance at Hange “He doesn’t even eat it.” He kept it to a soft whisper, too soft that he could never be too sure of whether or not she got the message.

Hange put the papers down on the table then she flashed her son a smile usually saved for insufferable diplomats. “Luke, if we bought you the cereal would you eat it?”

Luke nodded quickly.

Lies. It was a fucking lie. Levi had bought him the cereal the first few times the young boy asked. Every single damn time though, Levi had ended up finishing the box. And he was sick of cereal. So sick that when he closed his eyes and willed himself to think of it, he recalled everything from the grainy texture and overly sweet twinge so vividly, he practically tasted it in his own saliva.

“I’ll buy some on the way home,” Hange said. “The name is ‘Pops’ right?”

It was difficult to protest when it was Hange suggesting. Levi nodded.

“What about now?” Luke said. “I wanna bring it to school.”

Levi and Hange exchanged glances. “Why?” he asked.

Luke was side-eyeing something. A closer look only confirmed, Luke may have been too deep in thought to have fixated on anything in particular. Finding the right words, maybe? “Lunch.”

“Is there anything wrong with the lunch I packed you?” Levi asked. There shouldn’t have been anything wrong with the packed lunch. Levi always made sure of it.

Or maybe Levi was just deluding himself into thinking he was a good cook. Luke kept mum and stared down at his food, only ringing alarm bells inside Levi.

Levi was suddenly self conscious of the neatly packed lunch box he made every morning. Like all weekday mornings, it was lined up on the counter right next to Hange’s own lunchbox. He glanced quickly at it, and he was tempted to go the extra mile and reorganize it. “Luke is there anything wrong?”

Luke shook his head. He was starting to look a little flustered.

Everyone seemed to be bearing the weight of the tension and awkwardness since that question was raised. They were all very sluggish. For Levi, there was more than enough time to take a peek at the lunch box.

The sandwich was packed, the crackers were nearly lined up just next to them and there was a box of orange juice snug on the corner of the lunch box. Nothing was supposedly wrong with it. Still, it was worth a try. “You want anything packed differently?” Levi asked.

Luke nodded but he didn’t say anything after. As if he had expected Levi to read his mind.

Levi wasn’t a mind reader. One quick look at Hange and Levi concluded, Hange wasn’t a mind reader either. “What do you want packed differently?”

Luke shook his head then looked down at his food. There was a slight tremble in his lips.

Was he about to cry? Before Levi even noticed it, he had raised his voice, spoke more quickly. “If you don’t tell me, we won’t be able to fix it.”

Hange was also strangely still. She held her spoon a few inches above her plate and she could have been calculating something. That was the face Hange would make in the lab, when running through an experiment for the third team. That face was a prelude to long speeches on hypotheses and conclusions.

Do we have the time for a long speech? Levi noted the time on the mantel and Hange’s slow movements that morning. “Hange, you might be late for work.”

“Right…” Hange dropped her spoon and stood up slowly and hesitantly. Then when she got to her feet, she put on her usual confident and busybody demeanor. “I’ll make sure to buy that cereal on the way back. If you really want that for lunch, I see no reason to say no.” ”

It turned out though, it had been nothing more than a facade. Levi had followed her out to lock the door and exchange goodbyes like every other day. Then, Hange’s true thoughts came out as a whisper. “Can you stay after school for just a bit? Just see what happens after they drop him off?”

“Why?”

Hange hummed, chin raised and nose turned up. “Something doesn’t seem right.”

He didn’t need Hange to point it out for him. For a while as they packed up, Levi had already been pondering how long he could stay in the schoolyard before one of the teachers saw him home. “You didn’t have to tell me twice.”

Hange’s expression relaxed. She said a soft goodbye. Then her mind and her murmurs to herself were suddenly elsewhere.

She was thinking about work again. Like every other day before, During those times, Levi was reminded, keeping their son safe was his responsibility until Hange got home from work.

***

By some rule that didn’t seem to make any sense, the parents weren’t allowed to stay during school hours. Most days, he didn’t really mind but the last thing he had prepared himself for was a scolding, not from the teacher, but his own son.

“Daddy go home!” Luke had his back to his classroom and it didn’t look like he’d be turning his back on Levi until the latter was long gone.

“Luke, I need to talk to the teachers. Then I’ll go home.”

“Don’t talk to the teachers!” Luke said. He was starting to seem more and more agitated.

What the hell? What type of parent told their kid not to talk to their teachers? Levi was more determined to stay behind. “I just want to see--”

“Don’t talk to my friends!”

Something inside Levi broke at that moment. He had raised that kid and ninety-nine percent of the time, he was a peace loving kid. The way Luke had raised his voice at him, had him almost shaken. The young boy’s face had crumpled into a pout and it only made the cracking inside Levi all the more painful.

Then some defensive instinct inside Levi took over. He narrowed his eyes and observed more closely, he could have sworn he saw fear in those young boys' eyes.

“Go home daddy.” Luke said, more softly that time. Whatever gentleness though quickly assuaged when he ran towards Levi only to push him away.

“Okay. I’ll go home,” Levi backed away slowly at first. “I’ll pick you up at two okay?”

Luke didn’t reply. He didn’t even spare a wave before Levi turned his back on him. Hange was most likely right, his gut instinct might just be right too.

Something about Luke’s sudden change in demeanor just wasn’t natural. Despite Luke’s protests, Levi didn’t go home that morning.

***

Children can be fucking assholes.

They were fucking assholes, too much of a bunch of assholes that Levi wondered what future generation his fellow soldiers had dedicated all their fucking hearts to many years ago.

Levi had concealed himself under the shade of one of the trees just outside the school yard. His fighting instinct was still strong and he didn’t find it even a little stifling to completely freeze right under the tree. At the same time, he was completely confident that as long as he didn’t move, nobody would see him.

They were too far away anyway and the group of children seemed to be more occupied in what was looking to be utter assholery.

“Your lunch looks like poop!” Who the hell compares meals to human waste?

That was the least of his worries though. The boy that had fallen to the ground was Luke. The lunch that lay scattered on the grass was the one Levi had so carefully put together that morning.

Wasted food, wasted food he had worked on himself and the scene of his own son sprawled on the ground seeming defenseless just pushed Levi to the point of just almost feral. He wasn’t a soldier anymore and he hadn’t been in years. At that point in time, he even identified more as a father than a soldier. An attempt remain hidden forgotten, Levi rushed to the schoolyard.

“What’s going on here? Why are you wasting food?” Levi kept his tone almost polite. His own actions may have betrayed it though. Levi pushed himself to the front, pushing a little less gently when he recognized the kid who had thrown Luke’s food to the ground.

That had been enough to leave a look of horror in all of the kids' faces. Levi bent over, cleaned up the lunchbox and helped his son up. He flashed the boys a stare, and he hoped that would have been enough to poke daggers into them. “Don’t do that again,” he said firmly.

Paternal instinct had Levi’s mind racing. When he was thinking quickly, his body tended to act much faster. Even when he wasn’t even aware of it, Levi had pulled his son up by the arm.

And everything else happened quickly after that.

It was only when he had closed the door behind him, when his son had succeeded in wriggling out of his grasp, did Levi make sense of circumstances. The day wasn’t even over and he had dragged his son home.

“Daddy what were you doing there?” The look of horror was still there, his cheeks were tinged a little red.

“They weren’t treating you right,” Levi said matter-of-factly. He was starting to doubt himself though. Had that been the right thing to do?

Luke didn’t seem too happy at whatever Levi had done anyway. The young boy padded into his bedroom, slammed the door and like many other days, Levi was left alone in the kitchen, a ruined lunchbox on hand. He opened it and started to salvage.

The food was still edible and they didn't look too bad. The young starving boy who grew up in the underground city would have been happy to have received that. In contrast, Luke grew up in a comfortable home, with an easy three meals never wanting for anything. And that was Luke’s lunch and it would never be the young Levi’s.

He started to contemplate the small things. He inspected the sandwich, caked with a little soil. He then held the apple slices between his two fingers. All stained with dirt.

When he ran the container over running water, the dirt eventually disappeared and Levi deemed that edible for lunch, for his lunch at least. He wouldn’t serve that to his son. He pulled ingredients out of the cupboards, ingredients for a quick sandwich, eggs, mayonnaise and cheese.

It was a little past one and there was no time for anything fancier. Luke didn’t have lunch and was probably starving and Levi was having a harder time as well shaking that ache in his stomach. He went through the motions a little faster, turned on the toaster in advance.

In those in betweens, Levi let his mind wander. The father inside him then started to ask more questions.

How was he going to talk to Luke about it?

***

Levi had made two sandwiches for a party of three. Unexpectedly, Hange arrived from work early because of some ‘strange phone call’ from the school about ‘their son going missing.’

“And it looks like, you're the strange short man who abducted our son,” Hange said playfully in between bites of an egg salad sandwich.

Levi let his own sandwich sit, or at least his sorry excuse of a sandwich. The egg salad he hurriedly made had only been enough for two people. Thus, his own share had been barely even enough to cover even one side of the sandwich.

That was the least of his worries. He turned to Luke. “Would you’ve rather stayed in school?” he asked.

Luke didn’t answer. He was biting at his egg sandwich much faster. The loud chewing could have been a hint at the least that Luke refused to speak.

“I can get off of work early. Later, we could go to the supermarket and get your cereal later” Hange suggested, an attempt at some light conversation maybe. “You wanted to bring it for lunch tomorrow right?”

Luke shook his head quickly and continued to chew the sandwich.

Levi thought back to the scattered lunch box, the muddied contents. He couldn’t blame the kid. But how to tell Hange? “Luke couldn’t have lunch,” Levi said.

Hange’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Did school get busy?”

“It’s not that… “ Levi was feeling for the words slowly and carefully. He turned to Luke who was digging through the sandwich much much faster. “It’s---”

Luke’s hands slammed on the table. “Nothing!” he screamed, in a tone that was definitely not nothing.

“Luke, are you okay?” Hange asked. “Did something happen?”

“Daddy came to school today!”

“But you like daddy right?” Hange raised one eyebrow.

Luke shook his head. “No! No parents allowed in school.”

Levi stared down at his plate. The sandwich was starting to look less and less appetizing. What was that heavy feeling? Guilt? What else was he supposed to do? Stay still while they pushed his son to the ground and spilled his lunch onto the grass? “Luke, no one was supposed to be pushing you to the ground either. Of course I’d jump to your rescue.”

“I don’t need help.”

“You didn’t look like you were fighting back,” Levi argued. "You could have gotten hurt."

Luke stared up at Levi, a flash of indignance on his face. And for a few moments, the kitchen was silent, the air was heavy.

Hange cleared her throat. “Luke… Why don’t you fight back?” Something about her voice was too rehearsed.

“He knows how to fight," Luke answered hesitantly. For assurance maybe? He didn’t believe it as confidently though.

Hange hummed. “What makes you say that?”

"He learned to fight."

"Who taught him?" Hange asked.

“His daddy and mommy.”

“Really? How?”

“They’re soldiers.”

***

It took more effort after that to coax the rest of the information from Luke.

It came in between banters, in between fights, hurling of unintended insults and it ended with some half baked conclusion from Levi that the military police never really shook off the irrational pride that came with working so close to the king but doing close to no actual combat.

And how the hell did a next generation kid pick up that same abrasive attitude and the bare minimum of fighting skills.

Hange received her own personalized message from the whole ordeal. A message which Levi would rather Hange never entertained. “Did we do something wrong?” She broke the dim silence with the awkward question.

It was late in the evening, Luke had retired to bed and Hange and Levi had deliberately selected a corner of the room, farthest from Luke’s room. Even if it meant having to make themselves comfortable on the floor with some Indian sit.

Levi shrugged. “According to Luke… We did… By not being part of the military police.” He laced his tone with sarcasm, enough to lighten up the mood. The sliver of a smile on Hange’s face was enough indication that it worked just a bit.

Luke’s intention hadn’t been to hurt definitely. Levi conceded, maybe it had been his fault for forcing it out of the young boy.

“But we do know how to fight right? I mean, we’ve always had more experience than the military police officers,” Hange said.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You fight better than all military police officers, Commander Hange Zoe,” Levi said.

“If I fight better than all military police officers then humanity’s strongest, Captain Levi fights better than all the soldiers right?”

Captain and Commander. Very nostalgic epithets.

It had been years since they even used those epithet. Most people in the office called Hange by her first name while Levi was convinced most people called him Levi anyway. Organizing paperwork, expediting processes, executing trades, setting up meetings for the Queen and just knowing the ins and outs of  executive level bureaucracy, Hange’s job was indispensable but painfully thankless. Levi's own job as a homemaker which had been raising a child, while his partner worked had also been painfully thankless.

It wasn't like their jobs as captain and commander of the survey corps had been any more thankful during times of war. Just the thought of fighting was strangely intimate but the stress and the adrenaline rush that came with war, the pain of an injury and the very close brushes with death were not anything to be proud of.

After being dissed by their own child though, Levi was uncharacteristically self conscious. A quick onceover at Hange and he was sure she was thinking the same thing. "Maybe that's what we did wrong?"

"What?" The look of confusion on Hange's face was enough of a reminder.

Levi's own reflection had been silent. "Do you think I coddle Luke too much?"

Hange didn't respond immediately but Levi hadn't been in a hurry either to goad whatever answer out of her. "To be honest...I thought about it…" she huffed. "Okay, I wouldn't use the word coddle but don't you think it's just a little bit strange that our child is growing up in a completely different world from what we did."

Was it wrong? Levi's mind was finding ways to justify it.

Hange continued. "Of course we did things wrong we weren't perfect parents but it just feels weird… We raised a child who can't fight? A child who probably doesn't even know the realities of war.” She flailed her hands up in emphasis. “If we drop him off in some forest, he might just die...And now he's being bullied by some kid of retired soldiers. Should we have raised him a little stricter? Taught him to fight?" A tremor shook in her tone but when she looked up, she was smiling. More specifically, forcing a grin.

Hange always found a way to blame herself, an annoying habit since even back when they were soldiers.

A very annoying habit. Levi sighed. "I was the one who raised that kid. If anyone should be taking shit for not teaching that kid anything about standing up for themselves. It should be me."

Hange sighed then shrugged. "Well, it happened. So what now Papa Ackerman?"

Hange must have acknowledged it, the countless hours that Levi had put into raising the child. Between both of them, Levi should have known more about how to approach the young boy and just the thought of putting Luke through an inkling of that same training he went through had his stomach turning.

Admittedly, if Levi had encountered those bullies at Luke's age, or maybe even younger, he would have been more than capable of beating the shit out of those bullies. But, would he even be proud if he found Luke beating the shit out of those kids?

"We talk to the teachers," Levi answered.

"You don't think we should teach him how to defend himself?"

Levi shook his head. "Times have changed. Even if he doesn’t need to, I wouldn’t.” He met Hange's eyes. “I don't want to teach people how to solve things with violence."

Hange cocked her head to one side. “Why not?” Her mouth twisted into an expression of genuine curiosity.

Levi was terribly curious too. Fighting wasn’t one thing he would have wanted to think back to anyway. He didn’t see himself in Luke, or at first glance he didn’t. In the darkness, he gave himself some leeway, some space to think deeply about it and he started to realize, he couldn’t really avoid seeing himself in his son.

The glaring difference between himself and his own son had been circumstances. Luke didn’t have to learn how to fight. The age of war was over. No one was constantly in any immediate danger.

"Maybe you're better off teaching him what you know.” Levi sighed. If I could get away with not teaching my son how to fight, then I’d rather not.”

***

Diplomacy and maybe talking could have worked. That is, if they were talking to anyone else.

"We could launch an investigation on this…" The teacher side-eyed nothing in particular.

"Just now?" Hange raised one eyebrow. A quick estimation and a detailed recall of Luke’s change in demeanor put the estimate at two weeks ago. How did no one notice it?

The teacher nodded. "But it might take some time.” She leaned slightly forward. “I hope you understand… it's not easy to approach cases like this.”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Levi said.

The teacher didn't prod. She didn't put much weight in Levi's assertion either. She raised her hands up in defense. "Give us time."

Levi gripped the edge of his seat in some attempt to alleviate tension. It had taken a little more time to get his bearings so he opted not to say anything just yet.

Hange straightened up on her seat. "How much time?"

At least it was Hange who was asking, Levi was sure he couldn’t have said it any more amiably.

The teacher’s responses weren’t making it any easier. “A few weeks?”

A few weeks. That was at least ten lunch meals. Or even more than that. When Levi fathomed the scale of it, he was also considering the wasted meals in retrospect. How often was Luke coming home with an empty stomach? “Really? A few weeks? You can’t implement something, monitor our son….”

“You have to understand, it’s not that easy to investigate a bullying problem. The line between rough play and actual bullying is not very clear. We don’t want to be accusing any kids either.”

Hange bit her lip and looked away. Levi couldn’t even make a good conjecture of what she would have wanted to say. One thing was for sure, his fists were shaking, or maybe it was the leg underneath.

“So that means you aren't doing anything?" Levi confirmed.

The teacher flashed him an incredulous look and Levi was starting to confirm, it came out more as a challenge. Well, he didn't care too much, if challenging the teacher made everything happen faster.

"We're doing what we can," the teacher said.

"I've heard that spiel already," Levi said. He needed a breath of fresh air. If Hange wanted to talk anymore, if the teacher wanted to talk. It was their prerogative. "Thank you for your time," he added coldly, not bothering to look back.

Hange didn't leave immediately. She probably had a lot more to say, and maybe those were the same things running through Levi's head. Like always, she had a more open minded and more pragmatic way of navigating such a conversation.

Something Levi would probably never learn how to do. Hange would probably take her time, and even if he did lose her in the school, he knew his way home like the back of his hand anyway.

He allowed himself some free rein, wandering through the hallways while taking careful deep breaths. He took the long way to Luke’s classroom, subtly taking a peek then allowing himself enough of a view to search for his son among the students behind the desks.

It was easy to pick out the dark hair that peeked out from among the other attentive faces. Luke’s head was down. He was focused on a book maybe, or maybe he was just particularly self conscious of everything at once.

Levi didn’t have the view to tell, nor the time. The teacher eventually looked to her side, then a few young faces followed. Levi pressed himself against the wall. For sure he was out of site.

Just to make sure, Levi walked on ahead, he then turned the corner of the school, a familiar voice echoed form the other side of one of the hollow walls.

Kids these days are too spoiled if you ask me..

We grew up during a war… And these kids are crying over a few fights?

And the parents can be pretty entitled

Luke Zoe’s parents… I think those are former soldiers… You’d think they’d know better about spoiling their son.

Maybe the glory of war got into their heads or something. Suddenly they want their kids to have an easy life.

Yes, Levi agreed, he wanted his kid to have an easy life. He conceded to that.

Actually, not conceded. He wholeheartedly agreed with it. The essentials though of that conversation, the fundamental beliefs that carried it were just infuriatingly wrong.

Levi didn’t allow himself to contemplate and maybe he just didn’t have the energy for it. He opted not to wait for Hange, he slipped quickly out of the hallway and out onto the streets.

He took the long way home and part of him was hoping he got lost. He was in no mood after all to discuss ‘a spoiled generation’ with a teacher who grew up during a time of war.

He might just end up fighting back.

***

He didn’t have to teach his son how to use a knife. Still, Levi considered it enough times to sneak a few glances at the knife holder a foot away from the sink.

The first weapon Kenny had ever taught him to use was a knife. But knives hurt, knives kill.

The only reason Levi was teaching his son how to fight back was to prevent any more wasted lunches,  to prevent bruises for piling up on his ass to prevent any more scrapes from appearing on the palms of his hand.

"When they push you like this… what do you do?" Levi stretched out his arms in front of him, positioning himself to push.

Luke was a quick learner He gripped Levi's hands and the grip was surprisingly hard. Levi's wrists ached and he was suddenly hyperaware of the nails digging into him.

Levi bit his lip, he forced an outward flinch just to show his son it was working. Then the leg movements followed. Luke was still much smaller than Levi. The latter though had done it too many times during bar fights to tell, Luke had picked it up to a T.

Lock your knee to the back of their leg.

"Then push!"

Levi teetered and he was sure he still had the reflexes to jump away. Still, he wanted to give his son that confidence.

He fell to the floor, catching his light weight with the palms of his hands. "There. Okay? When they try to punch or push, you pull them towards you." Levi mimed the movement with his hands. "Then trip them from behind."

Luke nodded obediently.

"Okay…" Levi stood up. "Now let's try it again. Much faster this time."

***

Levi didn't have to try too hard to teach his son.

Luke had the natural agility and quick wittedness. With the right guidance, he was a force to be reckoned with, especially when facing a group of bullies.

Be it two bullies, three. Regardless of whether or not he was outnumbered, Luke might just make it work.

Maybe fighting skills ran in the family. No, it definitely ran in the family. Luke had natural skill that could have made him indispensable in the survey corps many years ago. WIth the right training and the right guidance, he managed to pick up the same fighting instinct Levi was all too familiar with.

Was it the same Ackerman gene? Or was it just natural talent. Levi entertained that as nothing more than a passing thought. After all, no one needed the Ackerman’s anymore since the war was over, the titan curse completely obsolete.

Soon, the Ackerman abilities would be too.

It was a slow process, and maybe it did start with his sons own stint against the bullies.

Levi found himself sneaking through the bushes near the school grounds around lunch time. The branches pricked, the leaves tickled and the smell of green lingered in his nose and he was already planning the warm bath as soon as he got home.

The situation he had put himself in, reminded him too easily of the war. Laughably, the situation he was roped into was much much milder.

He wasn't there to stand by while his team took down titans. He was just there to stand by and jump in just in case things got too heated for Luke.

Luke had proven self-sufficient in practice. But could he easily apply it?

Levi was watching the developments like a hawk, his heart beating in time to some rustle in the leaves, his hand digging into the branches right next to him. He didn't even notice he was holding his breath until the first body slammed onto the dirt with a loud thump.

Levi let it out with a loud huff then he closed his eyes, recounting the events of just a few seconds ago.

Grip hard, kick hard enough behind him to buckle his knees.

One down.

Push against him, use your weight against him. If you push hard enough, twist in this direction. He'll flip.

Two down.

With a swift strike to his---

"Stop!"

Levi’s eyes widened then they darted back and forth between the boys on the floor then the naturally, the only one left standing.

Luke dropped his hands to the side. Then everyone was silent, the two boys still recovering, one of them giving his own tailbone a consoling rub.

"Boys! What are you doing here?"

With the sound of that voice, Levi’s blood ran cold. By some stroke of bad luck, a teacher had seen them fighting.

"Luke? What were you doing here?" And by a more annoying stroke of bad luck, circumstances made Luke out to be the bully.

***

"It's very admirable that you're sticking with your son through thick and thin," the principal said, a wide smile plastered on her face.

Having dealt with military police bullshit for a good chunk of his life, Levi was fairly adept at sniffing out bullshit. Consequently, he wasn't so good at accepting such a fake compliment.

"What can we say? He's our son," Hange said, glaringly uncomfortable with the turn of events. She had some excuse to seem tense. After all, she rushed there from her office just a few minute ago.

"They sustained a few bruises, on the tailbone, a few scrapes on the knee which required some tending and one of the boys has a sprained ankle." She listed them out like a sprained ankle was a mortal wound. "I'm sure any settlements can be discussed internally… but if you need any help?"

Hange shook her head. "No thank you. I'll make a few calls, see what I can offer."

But they're not gonna do anything about Luke's mental state and his fucked up lunch meals huh? Levi looked to Hange, attempted to send a semblance of that message with his glare.

The principal cleared her throat. "Have you considered sending your child to a specialist?"

"A specialist?" Hänge asked, her voice was a little higher pitched. She furrowed her brow.

The principal nodded. "Yes, a specialist in a correctional facility, someone who could work with your son. The teachers… they saw your son fight. In this day and age, it’s quite alarming to see...

Levi looked down. His eyes landed on his shaking hands. In some attempt to pacify them, he balled them into fists.

"If he proves to be a danger to students…."

"He won't." Levi answered, voice clipped. If he spoke for any longer, he just might end up shouting.

"It's best to nip this in the bud while it's early."

"I said, he isn't going to do that. He's a nice kid."

"We get that from parents a lot but I firmly believe in some prophylactic work… especially when the first few signs…"

First few signs? What first few signs? The other kids were the assholes here. They started it.

They started it?

That was the argument of a six year old. Something, he constantly scolded Luke over for years.

On the one hand, Hange wasn’t letting any of her emotions out as if she was still trying to process it herself. "May I ask… what are these signs of Luke's aggression?"

The principal raised her eyebrow. "The way he was caught fighting the other students. He moved like a trained fighter. Isn’t it alarming that your son has been trained to fight like that, to be aggressive like that? We don't want this type of aggression here." She said those last words, matter-of-factly, firmly, with some finality.

Levi sensed self righteousness. Self righteousness was fairly bearable in small amounts. He was dealing with someone though with a little too much of that and seemingly little inclination of reflecting and getting to the bottom of it. Something inside of him snapped. "If you really don't want any aggression then watch the other fucking kids. My son is not going through some correctional facility because you as a principal can't do your fucking job keeping the students safe."

"Excuse me?"

"Those kids deserved to be body slammed into the floor. My son has been dealing with their bullshit for weeks."

"How certain---"

"Sure enough. My son doesn't fucking lie."

"That's a bold statement right there."

"You don't know my son better than I do so stop pretending." Levi wouldn't be giving her a chance to speak. Hange could have been glaring daggers at him but he was on some strange high, talking back at the old lady who had been rubbing him off since a while ago.

She paused for a moment and averted her gaze, a refreshing sign for Levi. "Okay then, but if you'd allow me to suggest---"

"Don't tell us how to raise our son."

Before he even noticed it, one hand was pushing him back on the chair.

"Please. Go on," Hange said, not to Levi but to the shaken teacher in front of him.

It had taken her a few more seconds to gather herself. Hange had taken a more comfortable grip of Levi by the wrist, under the table, out of view. She held him with enough firmness to control him but enough gentleness to calm him.

Whatever she says, grin and bear it. Work with it. If Hange had been meaning to say anything, that might have been it.

He wasn't going to spare her a kind smile though.

The principal cleared her throat. "Have you considered that you're spoiling your kid just a little too much?"

When the heat had dissipated, when the tension loosened, Levi found he conceded

To some extent. To some very small extent.

"If you compare what I grew up with to what Luke's growing up with. Maybe he is spoiled," Levi admitted. He kept his voice soft enough not to echo in the hallways, his footsteps slow enough that he didn’t need to think too much about walking.

"No one should ever have to grow up like you did," Hange answered with a more serious tone. A few seconds later, she turned to him with a more relaxed smile. "Do you really think he's spoiled?"

"If you consider the fact that if we dropped him in some military training, he probably wouldn't survive..."

"In this day and age, not everyone will be mandated to join the military anyway," Hange said. "So is it really necessary for Luke to have had to learn how to fight?"

"As much as possible, I wouldn't have taught it to him. If children weren't such assholes."

"And I think we raised him fine. In fact, I'm proud of that kid."

Proud of Luke? For what? Levi asked that question silently but he wasn't looking for answers, he was looking for specifics. He was proud of that kid for a lot of reasons.

Some of the reasons, he didn't really pick them out until they were bumbling towards him.

In between classes, Luke met them on the hallway, a large box wedged awkwardly on his side and Luke lost his balance a few times as he carried it.

As soon as Luke was only inches away, Levi took stock of it. A first aid kit?

"I have bandaids here. Do you know where we can buy medicine?" Luke asked.

"For what?"

"For their booboos."

Levi gave Luke a onceover. "You don't have any."

Luke shook his head. He turned towards the empty schoolyard then to the direction of the clinic. "Their booboos." It quickly became clear who they were talking about.

"Luke, why would you want to give them some?"

"Is that not allowed?" Luke blinked at him in confusion. It was as if that question was the most natural answer in the world. The most correct answer.

Levi started to realize, maybe he didn't know the correct answer either. He bent down and put one hand on Luke's head.. "I'll help you prepare one at home and we'll talk to their parents okay?"

Luke nodded. His lips curled into a wild smile. "I'll see what else I have in the cubby hole."

"He's too kind," Hange commented as soon as they were out of earshot.

"That's the kid we raised," Levi said. "You're proud of that?"

"To be honest, yes. We all aspire to be that kind." She gave Levi a knowing but very playful look. "Maybe he got it from you?"

"Me?" Levi crossed his arms and pulled away. Whatever look he had on his face was enough to have Hange chuckling.

"Maybe kindness runs in your family."

Levi's thoughts flew to Kenny. Kenny? Then he thought back to his own mother. She was enough of a looming thought that Levi was entertaining the kindness gene theory of Hange as some potentially acceptable truth.

"It runs on yours too then," Levi said.

There was a pregnant silence between them. Hange's face had softened into some half smile as she stared down at floor, seeming to be deep in reflection.

It was familiar and the more Levi stared, the more clearly he understood. That was the same exact way they stared at every lost comrade.

"If that's true, then maybe Luke got it from us? Maybe if we grew up in a better world, the same world Luke was growing up in, we would have been much kinder," Hänge said.

"If we had the childhood?" Levi added.

Hange looked at him pointedly. "If you didn't have to fight in the streets, I'm confident you would have grown up just like Luke."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're a good guy Levi. Despite your kill count, the way you talked to the towns people, the way you lectured the soldiers back then... I mean, you weren't the nicest guy but the kindness... the goodness, it just felt naturally there?"

It was a hilarious prospect to consider and Levi had to look away to conceal whatever playful expression took over then. "Well the same goes for you then. Not too many leaders would have risked everything to stop a genocide."

A subtle pink stained the apple of Hange's cheeks, subtle enough that Levi could have sworn a second later that it was never there to begin with.

Levi dropped his shoulders and leaned on the wall. "I've always known Luke was a good kid. It could have been from us, or it could just really be how that kid is. All I know is I wanna nurture it and it feels like the best way is to just give him the childhood I never had.”