#my attitude would make him grey haired and tired if that makes anyone feel better

[emjiroki]

I'm having Enji thoughts today... I need him to bend me into a pretzel and fuck me till I can't think or worry about anything

[ryker-writes]

Hi! I love you writing, especially you're twst siblings relationship headcannons/writings. I was wondering if you could what Jaxon would think of my oc, Ophelia Wisps (my yuusona).

Ophelia is 5'4'' with dark brown eyes and dark brown hair with lilac bangs. They're hair is greying and their body is heavily scarred from not having the same natural resistances to magic everyone else (plus from overblots). However they hide the scars and the gray hair with a glamour enchantment in their earrings (the lilac in their hair is fake). Because they have no magic, they have resorted to using magic items and tools that they have either created or 'kindly asked" crowley to get them; they're like an artificer. Ophelia is very cold and pessimistic to those they don't know them, often keeping to themselves. However to those that they do know, they show a very energetic, creative, and chaotic personality. They always have something in there hands as a fidget, usually some sort of needlework or are writing/sketching in a journal that they keep on them that is filled with new item designs/idea's. Their family owned a flower shop they grew up working in, so they often communicate via flowers. Ophelia is often tired and have started smoking because of their role as prefect. However they keep this habit a secret and keep it to only one cigerrate a month, usually sitting on ramshackles roof late into the night to make sure no one sees.

Sorry if this is to much detail, and if its please feel free to ignore it.

Thank you! And no worries, more detail is always better so I can get a better idea of how they would interact

Jaxon and your OC

"Ophelia is alright. They're cool to be around, and we don't talk that much. But I don't mind them."

They get along decently well.

Jaxon is pretty tall, and is almost an entire foot taller than Ophelia. So he kinda towers over them a little bit. He's a very observant guy, so if the earrings don't work or the scar's aren't covered very well, he's going to notice. Still, he wouldn't say anything about them even if he noticed. He's been in his fair share of fights and isn't going to judge someone for their scars. He has a couple too.

He thinks it's cool thatthey can even use magical tools. Knowing Crowley, he doesn't really want to lend out his things to anyone. If they ever need help getting something from Crowley, they just have to ask Jaxon. He knows where Crowley keeps his things and he's been able to take things from him before.

Ophelia's attitude to those they don't know is a lot like Jaxon's attitude normally. Considering he doesn't talk much to people or open up himself, they probably don't know him well and won't show their energetic and chaotic side to him. To be honest, that's probably for the better. More energetic people are harder for him to deal with, and he generally doesn't pay much attention to the chaotic nature of people.

Jaxon doesn't mind it much when they're just fidgeting, writing, or sketching something. It's something that they can do near him without bothering him. To be honest, he's not that interested in seeing the new designs, but he'll quietly listen if they tell him about him. Just don't expect him to respond.

He wanders a bit at night, so there's a chance he might see them smoking. He's not going to say anything about it though. Jaxon certainly isn't going to tell anyone about it (not that he has many people to tell anyway) and he's not going to try and stop them either. Whatever they do to deal with stress is none of his business, so he's not going to intervene.

[clefairymuke]

regrets | chapter fifteen

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 1663

Monotonous.

That was the best word you could come up with to describe the past week. The days lulled on without change as you unfortunately pined after Levi, who still seemed to pay you no mind -- but today would be different. You had formed a hypothesis. It was lofty, optimistic guesswork with no actual backing, but it was a hypothesis nonetheless. If  you placed the right kind of pressure on Levi, then he would admit exactly what you wanted to hear. Your sadness about the situation, as melancholy typically does, had turned to spiteful anger; you needed to prove him wrong. Even if it amounted to nothing, even if you were left with sadness yet again.

"You want me to what?" Jean asked you in a whisper, face drawn up in disgust. You laughed at him before retraining your eyes on the back of Levi's head. His hair had been cut recently. It looked nice.

"Come on, Jean. It won't be that bad. It's just for a few days at most. I'll hate it just as much as you will. It's a game," you replied just as quietly. Despite his protests, you knew it wouldn't take too much convincing. He cared about you too much to tell you no. You gave him your most sincere puppy-dog eyes, watching the disgust on his face morph to a mix of disappointment and amusement. Score.

"I'll do it," he conceded, laying his forehead in his palm. You knew it wouldn't take much effort. Your plan, albeit a little childish, was what you had deemed a sure-fire experiment to test your hypothesis. Hange would be proud.

Levi, as careless as he may seem, irrefutably had anger as his foremost emotion. He was quick to it, and he wore it well. With such constant anger came many things: a gentle side well-contrasted by the rough exterior that ruled others' perception -- proven true; a likely mix of mood swings and impulsivity -- also relatively evident; and, most importantly, a tendency toward jealousy -- completely unproven but heavily suspected. You relied on that suspicion to make sense of the mixed signals he had given you.

You'd been considering it for days; after a while, you grew weary of being ignored. It beat down on you like a rain shower, leaving you to helplessly question the meanings of fleeting moments within the confines of the infirmary. Being unsure was decidedly the worst part. An explicit yes-or-no answer was annoyingly required to calm your racing mind -- accepting his words at face value was impossible.

You followed the outline of his jaw with your eyes as he spoke to Hange, who was sitting at his side. He always looked so well put together. You fantasized about his hair in disarray and his clothes hanging loose -- how he looked on the morning after the night you spent together. You had long grown past embarrassment; every self-pitying thought soon became validating as the nights in the infirmary consolidated into your definition of Levi. You were sure, entirely, that this newfound attitude towards you was all for show. Otherwise, how could someone so callous become so gentle?

His collected gaze was aimed anywhere that wasn't at you. Jean's stories of certain stolen glances when you weren't looking were enough to assure you that he wasn't as unbothered as he seemed. Sometimes you wished you could catch his eye just to send him a soft smile -- to remind him that the two of you weren't just unreasonably disliked acquaintances. You were almost tired of being mad at him; unfortunately for him, however, you were quick to anger, too.

When you were dismissed to training, you weren't slow to get up. You tossed your tray atop the stack of others and made your way out the door, other scouts surrounding you to form a crowd. Jean put his arm around you when you found yourself outside the door; but, instead of swinging it casually around your shoulders, he slid it snugly around your waist. You watched as he shook his head, eyes rolling so hard you were sure they'd come out of their sockets.

When you looked back, you swore for a moment that you met a pair of narrowed grey eyes.

---

The training exercise was your least favorite of them all: the insufferable wooden-titan practice you'd done a month or so before. You fell in line with the rest of your comrades, your gaze traveling to Levi's stance atop a tree branch. He was leading this exercise, and although it was better for your experiment, it was hard to ignore how hard he had been on you. Slack didn't seem to be in his vocabulary. You wanted to do well.

You all lied in wait for his go-ahead, your hands positioned over the triggers on your gear. It would be your first time using ODM again; luckily, legs weren't really necessary. You looked forward at the back of Bertholdt's head, knowing Jean stood a few feet behind you. Last time you finished -- third? Maybe second? You were confident you could do it again.

You saw Levi travel towards the middle of the group of trees for a better view. "Alright," he called, several yards away. "Go."

It only took a few seconds to realize you were rusty when you fell to the middle of the group. Jean had already passed you, along with Connie and Sasha. Nearly a month out of training had done more damage than you thought. You fought to stay ahead of the curve, your eyes failing you to glance at Levi's disappointed face. You made eye contact for a split second, your chest swelling against your will. A lift of his eyebrow forced your line of sight forward as you narrowly missed a tree branch. He scoffed, loud enough for you to hear him. How embarrassing.

Whether by luck or underestimation, you were surprised that several scouts remained in the exercise when you landed. Levi had moved towards the edge of the trees now, so you could still see him from your place in the grass. You wondered if he knew, and if he had glanced your way, too. Your plan relied on the fact that he had and would again.

You waltzed to where Jean stood, away from the others and sipping from his canteen. You slid your hand into his, fingers interlocking as he gagged playfully. "Your hands are sweaty," he said, discomfort clear in his tone.

You laughed, squeezing his hand. "Yours just feel greasy. Have you washed them recently?" The two of you continued joking back and forth as your eyes darted over your shoulder at Levi. You told yourself that acting as if you didn't even notice him would be the best way to go; it was difficult, though. You wanted to gauge every reaction as clearly as you could -- that's how experiments work, right?

You caught him staring for the very first time. When you met his eyes, his gaze did not falter. He simply lowered one eyebrow inconspicuously. You looked away as quickly as you could to hide the triumphant grin spreading across your face; he had seen, and he didn't look happy. The experiment, though, was not yet complete. You wanted more.

As the last few scouts landed, you and Jean took a seat, hands still interlocked in the clammiest, most uncomfortable form of physical affection you had experienced to date. To make matters worse, you decided to lay your head snugly in the slope from his neck to his shoulder. Of course, you and Jean were not strangers to physical affection, as most close friends weren't. Nonetheless, the connotation behind the prolonged hand-holding and casually romantic cuddling was uncomfortable at best. You were lucky he couldn't tell you no. Another strike of luck was that everyone was used to seeing the two of you close and comfortable, and it would be difficult to anyone not intently watching to notice a difference; were there any downsides to having a male best friend?

"Is he looking?" you whispered nudging Jean with your shoulder.

"I don't know," he whispered back, "I'm facing the same way as you."

You snorted. "No shit. Just look around. Don't make it obvious."

You felt his head turning, looking both ways out at the scouts that surrounded you. "Okay, yeah. He's looking. He didn't even look away when he saw me. He looks pissed."

You smiled. Your hypothesis was not far from being proven true; you just needed another push. "You're not going to want to do this," you told Jean, trying to hide the mischievous grin overtaking your face.

"I'm not doing it. No way."

"Jean, please!"

"Nope. Not happening."

"It'll only last a second," you said in the most convincing tone you could muster.

"This is a stupid plan," he answered, a sigh of concession building in his lungs. You had won, yet again.

"Just kiss me. Fuck, it's only once."

And so he did. He tasted like the disgusting soup you had eaten for lunch. It lasted only a couple of seconds, but you were subject to the time-slowing force that only came from ecstasy and torture. This time, it was the torture kind. When he pulled away, you forced a grin for show. Through your teeth, you said, "I think that was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. Ever."

He laughed, squeezing your hand. "It couldn't have been worse than what just happened to me. Remind me to wash out my mouth with soap later." You looked over your shoulder to see Levi still staring, his jaw set in anger. What could be more satisfying?

When you were all dismissed from the exercise, you were sure to walk slowly as you and Jean swung your conjoined hands back and forth. Surely real couples don't hold hands this long, you thought; this much sweat can't be comfortable. Before you saw him, you heard Levi's voice at your side.

"Get cleaned up and get to my office. I need a word with you."

Had it really been this easy the whole time?

[cocobeanncteez]

ATEEZ Wooyoung- School President (Oneshot)

Genre: light angst, suggestive/steamy, high school au.

Pairing: SchoolPresident!Wooyoung x badgirl!reader

Warnings: none.

"Miss L/N, detention after school till 4 p.m." your chemistry teacher said, making you mentally groan. It was the last class of the day and you were dying to go home, but now you had to stay for an extra hour. All your classmates turned to look at you, but they weren't surprised. "You still haven't submitted the assignment."

"Can I just submit it tomorrow?" you asked in a bored tone.

"No, you were supposed to submit it a week ago," she said, gathering her stuff to leave the class. "Detention with Mrs. Hwang today." You heard people around you snicker. Well, fuck. Mrs. Hwang was the strictest teacher in school. Even you were scared of her despite your badass attitude.

You got up from your seat, leaving the classroom with an annoyed expression on your face.

"Detention again, Y/N?" your bestfriend asked as she made her way to you with your other friends.

You rolled your eyes. "Ms. Jang will never fucking let me live in peace. I'll see you guys tomorrow," you said, making your way to detention.

You were surprised to find the room empty. Usually, there would always be about three or five students. Since no one was here, you decided to ditch; you would skip school the next day so that your teachers will forget about it. You turned around to leave, but ended up bumping into someone, slightly startling yourself.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at your school president and heartthrob—also called 'senior's eye candy' at your school—Jung Wooyoung.

You had to admit, he was certainly the most handsome guy you've ever seen. Jung Wooyoung was absolutely perfect. Every girl wanted him and every guy wanted to be him. You were sure half your school tried to hit on him despite the fact that he has a girlfriend.

"Unfortunately, I'm here to make sure that you won't escape detention as Mrs. Hwang is busy, so take a seat," he said, moving around you to sit on a chair and taking a notebook out of his bag.

You always found Jung Wooyoung very interesting. Other guys like him—the nerdy ones—can't even talk to you, let alone look you in the eye. Jung Wooyoung was the complete opposite.

You sat on one of the chairs, immediately taking your phone out.

"You can't use your phone here," Wooyoung said, not looking up at you from his notebook. "Why don't you complete your assignment?"

You scoffed. "And if I don't? What are you gonna do about it?"

"Nothing," he said, looking at you. "It's not affecting me in any way, so I don't care. However, Ms. Jang is gonna fail you again if you don't submit your assignment."

You knew he was right. And that annoyed you; you really just wanted to shut his pretty mouth up.

"Whatever," you mumbled, taking out a notebook and the assignment sheet to start working on the reactions you had to write.

However, you were completely blank. You didn't know or understand a word given on the sheet. You bit your lip as you stared at the sheet, wondering what to do.

Finally, you took out your phone and googled all the reactions, easily finishing the assignment in less than half an hour.

"You know, you won't be able to copy during finals," Wooyoung said, closing his notebook. "Even if you're copying now, at least learn what you've copied."

"I didn't ask for your comments," you retort. He was about to say something, but his phone rang.

"Hey, baby," he answered. " . . . I'm in charge of detention today . . . Oh, that's okay," his face fell slightly. " . . . No, it's alright. We can go some other day . . . Hmm, I love you too. Bye!"

You snorted, feeling bad for the boy. You were surprised someone as smart as him hasn't figured out that his girlfriend has been cheating on him. You've seen his girlfriend shoving her tongue down random people in the club, and hitting on people at your school. You remembered how shocked you were when you first found out that she was cheating on him; because why would anyone cheat on someone as perfect as Jung Wooyoung?

"You can leave now," Wooyoung said, getting up from his seat. "Detention is over." You nodded, leaving as fast as you can, just wanting to go home and sleep.

"Your grades aren't very bad, but they aren't great either, Y/N," your class teacher said. "You'll get into an average college with these grades. But I know you can do much better. So I've asked one of the prefects to tutor you in Chemistry and Physics."

You groaned. "Can I do it by myself?"

"You wouldn't do it by yourself," she said. "Anyway, Jung Wooyoung will be tutoring you. Discuss and decide your timings with him. I expect you to score well on the next exam. I do not want to see you fail in any subject again." Before you could say anything, the door to the staff room opened, revealing none other than Jung Wooyoung. "Ah, Wooyoung, I just told Y/N that you will be tutoring her," she said. "I'm expecting you to do a great job."

Wooyoung smiled. "I won't let you down, Mrs. Park. But Y/N must put in efforts or else there's no point," he stated in a polite tone, and you rolled your eyes.

"Yes, that's true," she turned to look at you. "I'm expecting nothing but your best efforts, Y/N." She's always expecting something, huh, you thought. You only smiled, bowing politely.

"I'll do my best."

-

"What the actual fuck is this?" you mumbled, staring at the lengthy derivation written in Wooyoung's notebook. He rolled his eyes, so tired of hearing you say that to literally everything you saw written in his notebook.

"Ah, why did they have to make me tutor you of all people?" he whined. "You clearly haven't paid attention in class for even half a second."

"No one told you to accept it," you said, ignoring his last comment.

"I had to," he scoffed, stretching his arms out, making you glance at the veins on his arms. "Extra credits, you know?"

"Nerd," you muttered under your breath. He heard you, but didn't say anything. He began teaching you how to derive it; you paid attention for the first few seconds before zoning out. When you zoned back in, he asked you to explain what he just explained. You bit your lip, thinking of what to say.

He sighed. "You didn't pay attention again."

"I zoned out, sorry."

"That's what you said for the previous derivation," he said, a disappointed look on his face while he packed up his things.

"You're leaving already?" you asked, glancing at the time on your phone; you still had twenty minutes left.

"I'm not going to waste my time teaching you right now," he said. "You clearly aren't in the mood to focus." You only scoffed, watching him leave the library. You bit your lip, feeling kinda bad for not paying attention when he was making an effort to teach you.

The look of disappointment he showed you had somehow made you determined to prove that you could focus and do better.

You were at Wooyoung's house, sitting on his bed and scrolling through your social media while waiting for him to finish changing out of his uniform. You spent an entire two weeks studying your ass off, and you were proud you made a big improvement, thanks to Wooyoung. He was quite surprised that you were actually making an effort to understand whatever he taught you. You both even became friends, and you were quite happy about that.

"I'm done," he said, coming out of his bathroom, making you look up from your phone. You held your breath at the sight of Wooyoung dressed in grey sweatpants and a black tank top. You couldn't stop yourself from checking him out: the veins running down his muscled arms, his exposed collarbones, his sharp jawline, his plump lips . . .

You were so immersed into checking him out, you didn't realize he was doing the same to you. He loved how your uniform skirt rid up your thighs, and how another two buttons on your shirt were unbuttoned, exposing a little bit of your cleavage. Before you knew it, he was slowly making his way towards you, eyes now locked with yours.

"Let's start, hmm?" he said with a smirk; he knew you were checking him out.

You clear your throat a little. "Yeah, let's start."

You spent the next half an hour trying to pay attention to whatever Wooyoung was teaching you. It didn't help that he absentmindedly placed his hand on your knee, or brushed your hand with his; he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Your mind kept wandering to the things you want him to do to you right now on his bed.

" . . . and now you should tell me," he leaned a little close to you with a smirk, making your heartbeat speed up. "Which formula should be used?"

"Fuck this," you muttered, pushing the books aside before straddling Wooyoung's lap.

"Took you long enough," he chuckled, and you crashed your lips on his. He instantly kissed you back, hands moving to grip your waist. You wouldn't admit it to anyone, but you have been dreaming about kissing Wooyoung the second he talked back to you a year ago.

You pulled away to litter his neck in kisses, sucking the skin gently. He groaned softly, making you smirk. "Fan of neck kisses?"

"You have no idea," he said, hands moving underneath your skirt to grip your bare inner thighs. He gave it a squeeze, making you involuntarily grind down on him. He moaned at the feeling, encouraging you to do it again. You moved your lips back to his, grinding on him even more. Wooyoung's hands slipped into your panties, grabbing your ass to help you grind down on him faster. The friction made you moan, craving for more. You tugged on his shirt, breaking the kiss to let him pull it off. You ran your hand down his toned torso in awe, loving the feeling of his abs beneath your fingertips. Your eyes widened at the tattoo above his hip bone. "You have a tattoo?!"

Wooyoung gripped your hips, moving you off of him so that he could hover over you. "Mhmm, bet you never expected the nerdy school president to have a tattoo, huh?" Your hands moved to his hair, playing it with while he began to kiss your neck, driving you crazy.

Wooyoung kissed down your chest till where your shirt was unbuttoned. He glanced up at you, fingers toying with the buttons. "Can I?" he asked. You nodded, letting him unbutton your shirt and slip it off you. You sucked in a breath when he ran his fingers over the lacy material of your bra.

"Take it off," you whined, making him chuckle.

"Patience, baby," he said, one hand gently rubbing your thigh.

But you really didn't have any patience right now.

You brought his lips to yours while you moved his hand to touch you where you desperately needed him, surprising him a little. He kissed you back hungrily while his finger moved on your clothed clit, applying pressure, making you get wetter. Your moans made him smirk; he loved how he was the reason behind it.

You both got startled at the sudden sound of his garage opening. He halted his movements, pulling away from you instantly.

"One of my parents is back from work," he said, quickly putting on his tank top and handing you your uniform shirt. You quickly buttoned it and straightened out your hair; you really did not want Wooyoung's strict parents to suspect anything since they already did not like the idea of him tutoring you in his final year of high school.

Wooyoung's father knocked on his bedroom door before opening it, finding you and Wooyoung busy writing equations.

"Oh, hey, dad! How was work?" Wooyoung asked with a sweet, innocent smile like as if he wasn't smirking a few minutes ago while touching you.

"Hello, Mr. Jung," you said politely.

"Hello, Y/N," he said. "Work was all right, as usual. How is your tutoring session going?"

"Good, dad," Wooyoung said, trying to control himself from smirking. "It's going really great."

[whumpmatsus]

Heyo! 👋 hope you're doing well! If you are taking requests right now, maybe some Ichi hurt/comfort? Like maybe he's having a depressive episode one day (me? Projecting? It's more likely than you think 😂) unlike any he's ever had before, and he just doesn't have the strength to do anything, even make snippy remarks at any of his brothers. One (or all, you can pick!) of them notices this odd behavior, and makes it their mission to help him feel a little more like his old self, even if that just means "riding out the storm" with him.

Oof this was really long, lol sorry 😂 but thanks for taking the time to read, I love your writing style! Take care! 👋

eyyy don't be sorry! God I REALLY enjoyed writing this... I love how it turned out

sometimes these guys can be jerks, for sure, even when one of their own is in pain

but... when it's serious... THIS BEAUTIFUL SHIT HAPPENS

please enjoy Ichi being spoiled and surrounded by love from all his brothers because HE DESERVES IT and I love how this turned out <3

-

Ichimatsu’s first (and maybe only) mistake is that he assumes his brothers don’t pay that much attention to him one way or the other unless he speaks up.

Or, maybe it’s that he often hopes they don’t.

Because he knows they care; there are little things they all do that remind him that no matter what, they love him. But they all have their own things to do, and most of the time he finds that best. They should be able to do whatever they like instead of wasting their lives making him feel better. He has a bad day or hates himself so much of the time, if they paid him attention whenever he wasn’t doing well, they’d never get to enjoy themselves with other things.

He cares about them, too. So usually he’d rather they occupy themselves with their own interests whenever he’s not feeling well. He can bury things deep inside and pretend those shitty feelings don’t exist and act almost normal. As normal as someone like him can act, anyway. For their sake. They don’t deserve to worry about him.

Today, he’s too tired for whatever reason. His scathing barbs and negative attitude on most days aren’t really fake… on the bad days, though, he can force his typical demeanor so nobody suspects he’s not fine. All they see is sour-faced, ill-tempered fourth brother Ichimatsu.

He can’t even do that much right now. It’s as if the weight of existence and his own mind is pulling him down, further and further, until he’s drowning in his thoughts. Horrible thoughts. Things telling him he’s worthless, a failure, a burden, good for nothing, should probably be dead… too many things to keep track of.

If he were trying not to get his brothers’ attention by being quiet and listless, it isn’t working. In fact, his current behavior has actually done the opposite.

While he’s lying in the corner of the room, curled around himself and wishing he could fall asleep to avoid dealing with these thoughts and feelings, the others are around their table muttering among themselves.

“You guys noticed he barely touched breakfast, right?” Osomatsu is the first to speak up, and he’s doing his best not to look at Ichimatsu too much, simply because he doesn’t want his younger brother to feel everyone’s eyes on him. He’s pretty sure that would just make matters worse.

Choromatsu hums in agreement. “Yeah, no, he just kind of stared into his tea… he might have taken a sip or two, but that’s about it. I don’t think he even ate any rice.”

“Did he even brush his teeth this morning?” Totty speaks up. “Or his hair? It looks messier than usual, and I was the last one in the bathroom before breakfast, and it didn’t look like his toothbrush had been used.”

“Also,” Karamatsu chimes in, “I believe that is the same outfit he wore yesterday. He didn’t sleep in it, but he put it back on when he got up even though it hasn’t been washed.”

Choromatsu frowns and steals a quick glance at the fourth eldest. “Like he… didn’t wanna think about picking something different out, huh? And… it’s kind of worrying that he didn’t brush his teeth or hair. I mean, that’s basic hygiene. It’s like he’s depressed or… some… thing…”

Suddenly a light bulb goes off, and the rest of the brothers exchange a concerned look with each other.

“Oh,” is all Osomatsu says for a moment. Then, “Fuck.”

Before anyone else can breathe a word, Jyushimatsu leans back away from the table and collapses with his head in Ichimatsu’s lap. “Aaaah, Ichimatsu-nii-chan! Baseball practice today? We can do it at the beach!”

Ichimatsu hardly flinches at the abrupt contact, but really it’s because he doesn’t even have the strength to be startled. He doesn’t move to push Jyushimatsu off or bounce his leg to dissuade the him from staying or anything. It’s a moment until he actually says anything, like a delayed reaction from a computer. “Uh. Not today, Jyushi. I’m probably gonna take a nap.”

“Hmmmmmmm… oh, I know! I’ll nap with you! Maybe we’ll dream about baseball!”

All the others watch closely, waiting to see if he gives an average Ichimatsu reaction. Instead, he doesn’t even shrug. “Yeah, if you want.”

Obviously, that’s not what they would be expecting from any other day. They all look at each other again, minus Jyushimatsu who just curls up against his big brother’s side.

Ichimatsu, on the other hand, is so out of it in his own head that he doesn’t realize that he’s done anything to worry his brothers. They should all be paying attention to their own shit, right?

He just feels so exhausted despite that he knows he slept okay last night. All he did this morning was wake up and get out of bed and already he’s… drained.

You’re so lazy. You can’t even put together the energy it takes to read a fucking magazine or something? To do nothing like you usually do? What kind of loser doesn’t have enough energy to do something like watch TV?

What the hell is wrong with you?

He cringes at the sound of his own inner voice berating him, and ducks his head down between his knees. Shit. Everything hurts. Isn’t that right, though? He’s useless. It doesn’t take any effort to just sit somewhere watching TV or reading and yet he’s not even willing to do something like that.

Even though he expects that Jyushimatsu might want to hang out with him, because the two of them are close, he doesn’t anticipate it when Osomatsu comes over and sits himself down across from Ichimatsu. At least, he thinks it’s Osomatsu. He doesn’t really feel like lifting his head fully; it looks like a red hoodie, though.

“Uh, hey, Ichimacchan.” Osomatsu feels a little awkward at first, mainly due to the fact that he’s never sure what to do when Ichimatsu is in one of ‘these’ moods. What works on one day might not work the next time. Previous experience is all he has to draw on, though.

“I noticed you didn’t eat too much at breakfast… you in the mood for something sweet?” Tempting him with one of their favorite treats might put him in better spirits, at least for a minute. “There’s a box of imagawayaki on the counter… there’s three in there, so we can split ‘em. Mom said these ones have chocolate cream in them.”

Everyone else lets out a blissful sigh as they all think about how delicious that’s going to be. Bean paste or custard or even regular cream is always good, but chocolate cream? If they had to fight over those, someone might end up dead.

Ichimatsu offers a shrug in his brother’s direction. “Sure, if you guys want. I’m just not that hungry.”

Osomatsu frowns, and looks over toward Choromatsu who’s thankfully recovered from the imagawayaki imagine spot. None of the brothers would ever turn that down. Even if they weren’t necessarily hungry, they’d make room for something that good. Moreover, given that Ichimatsu didn’t eat anything at breakfast, he should be starving,especially for sweets.

Choromatsu makes his way over, setting a careful hand on Ichimatsu’s shoulder. He doesn’t have any more of a clue what to do than their eldest, so he’s flying by the seat of his pants just as much. Something has to be done… they can’t just let poor Ichimatsu suffer. “Ichimacchan? It’s pretty cold today. How about I turn on the kotatsu, and if you’re gonna nap, you can sleep with your legs under it? That might feel nice.”

Well. That does sound nice, Ichimatsu thinks, because curling up under the heat of the kotatsu is always nice in the winter. But… he���s pretty sure he doesn’t have the energy to even move from this spot. “Oh, yeah… I’ll probably just nap here, though. Don’t really feel like moving.”

“Aaah, but you are cold, aren’t you? I can hear your teeth chattering from all the way over here!” Karamatsu is up in an instant, tugging his leather jacket off his shoulders. Although it leaves him in nothing but a tank top ― and a horribly plain grey one, at that ― it’s a necessary sacrifice for his little brother’s comfort.

He hurries over to where everyone else is gathering and gently drapes the jacket over Ichimatsu’s shoulders. “Hmph… Karamatsu to the rescue as usual! You’re looking cozier already.”

Man,Ichimatsu’s mind comes up with, I try on Shittymatsu’s dumbass jacket one time and suddenly he’s coming up with any excuse to put the stupid thing over me. Do I really want him freezing instead of me? Why don’t I just move my ass over to the kotatsu? He’s gonna catch a cold and it’ll be all my fault because my stubborn ass didn’t move and he took pity on me.

God, I wanna die. They’re all falling all over themselves to do shit to cheer me up when they should be focusing on themselves. I’m fucking trash, making my brothers waste all their damn time on me. Why couldn’t I just do stuff and not make them worry?

“… Ichimatsu-nii-san?” Totty has plopped himself down in front of Ichimatsu, staring in concern at his big brother. Fuck. He’s using that eye voodoo of his, and if he says anything, if he asks Ichimatsu a question, he’s gonna get an honest answer despite the fact that Ichimatsu doesn’t want to admit anything.

He can’t help it, though. Totty’s hand is soft as he reaches up toward Ichimatsu’s face, thumbing away tears that Ichimatsu didn’t even realize he’d started to cry. But his youngest brother is delicate in the way he brushes them, so caring and tender that any little bit of strength Ichimatsu had to keep things hidden away crumbles quickly.

“Hehe,” Totty chuckles, though there isn’t a genuine mirth behind it, “you’re not having a good day, Ichimatsu-nii-san… are you?”

He blinks, and more tears start to drip down his cheeks. This time Totty doesn’t make a move to wipe them away, instead staring at his brother with those big, sad doe eyes, glittering with sympathy.

Ichimatsu lets his head drop again, eyes pressing against his arm and tears soaking into his sleeve. “N-no,” he manages to say in a quiet, insecure, small voice. He hates it. He hates making this stupid confession, because he should be able to take care of himself. His brothers don’t need to be huddled around him, pissing their days down the drain. “I’m… I’m having a bad day.”

With that, it’s like all five of them attach themselves to him all at once. There’s a brief cacophony of worry and reassurances, and a hug Ichimatsu almost loses himself inside of.

“Alright, you hear that, guys?” Osomatsu announces, maybe a bit louder than he really needs to. “Ichimatsu’s having a bad day! Woohoo!”

Choromatsu scoffs. “Ah, ‘woohoo’?? Osomatsu, you idiot! This isn’t a good thing!”

Osomatsu pulls away to rub a finger under his nose with a grin. “Hey, sure it is! He said it, didn’t he? Good for you, Ichimacchan! You’re having a bad day and you said so! Remember what happened when Totty kept junk from us? We need to know this shit! I’m glad you said something!”

Karamatsu’s hand tousles Ichimatsu’s hair as he pulls his brother into a hug. “Yes, Osomatsu is right. You’re having a bad day, Ichimatsu, and that’s just fine. It takes a lot of bravery to admit it, so we’re proud of you.”

“Plus, we’re gonna make this the best bad day ever!” Totty hums. He’s whipped his phone out before anyone can so much as blink, typing away on it. “It’s just about lunch time, so I’m gonna order some takeout! Ichimatsu-nii-san, what sounds good? Curry? Sushi? Ooh… maybe fried chicken? We don’t do that too often… might be a nice treat! Oh, it’s your call, though.”

Osomatsu gives Ichimatsu a tiny bump on the shoulder with his fist. “You and Totty figure that out while I go cut that imagawayaki for us. Be right back, guys.”

… Am I in the fucking Twilight Zone or something? What the hell???

Ichimatsu lifts his head just a little, looking at all his brothers. Totty’s on his phone looking at delivery options, Osomatsu is headed to the kitchen, Jyushimatsu is nuzzled against his side…

None of them are leaving him by himself. They all still want to be here even when his mood sucks ass. Even when he can’t really do anything for himself. Even when he’s being a huge fucking pain and a thorn in their sides and doing literally nothing to contribute to the day.

What the hell are they all doing? Why are they all fine with wasting their day taking care of him?

When Karamatsu presses a couple of tissues into his hand, Ichimatsu somehow finds the energy to use them to wipe his face. Fuck, he hates crying, and he hates people seeing him cry. “Don’t do this,” he mumbles. “You’re fucking morons. You have better shit to do than…”

“No way!” Jyushimatsu aggressively snuggles against the side of Ichimatsu’s stomach, circling his arms around his brother’s waist. “What better shit could weeeee have to do? We’re shitty NEETs!”

Choromatsu chuckles. “Besides, there’s literally nothing more important than taking care of each other, especially when one of us is down and out. Ichimatsu, you… know none of us are shy when it comes to being honest. So, just… try to believe us when we say there’s nothing we’d rather be doing than being with you right now.”

He straightens up, then gingerly taps Jyushimatsu with his foot. “Hey, Jyushi, how about you scoot yourself and Ichimatsu over to the kotatsu? And Totty, are you really gonna make a delivery driver come out in this weather? It’s almost below freezing! Why don’t you go get it yourself?”

“Excuse you, but if they haven’t shut down the delivery option, why shouldn’t I take advantage of it? I don’t wanna leave Ichimatsu-nii-san!”

“Okay, okay… I guess that’s fair. What are you ordering, again?”

“Aaaah, I dunno! I was waiting for Ichimatsu-nii-san to say what he feels like.”

Meanwhile, Jyushimatsu has somehow gotten himself and Ichimatsu over to the kotatsu, and is currently shoving his big brother’s legs under it while Choromatsu moves to plug it in. “Home run, YEAH! Your tootsies will be toasty in no time, Ichimatsu-nii-san!”

“O-oh… thanks, Jyushi…” That’s about all he can say, really. He’s slumped over the table in a matter of seconds, and although there’s no way it can support the weight of everything he feels like he’s being crushed under, feels a little more relaxing than holding himself in a tight ball in the corner.

He’s going to cry again. He’s pretty sure he’s going to cry again. His brothers, his selfish, douche-a-holic, demon brothers… would rather be taking care of him on a bad day than out doing their own things, not touching him or his shitty mood with a ten-foot pole.

Jyushimatsu is cuddled up on one side, and he can feel Karamatsu settling in on the other with an arm around Ichimatsu’s shoulders. That’s it. He’s surrounded by brothers and their warm, selfless-for-once-in-their-lives affection. He has to surrender. He doesn’t stand a chance.

His mind drifts back to the others. “Oh… Totty…”

“Oh! Yeah, mhm?”

“Um… curry sounds good, I guess.”

The impossibly huge smile on his youngest brother’s face comes through even when he speaks. “Oh, great! Curry it is! Okaaaay, I’m gonna get it from that nice place in town. You want it with rice or udon? Or do you want curry bread?”

“Uhh… just with rice.”

“Rice, okay, sounds good! Beef, chicken, or pork?”

“Huh… you mentioned fried chicken, now that sounds good. Does that place do curry rice with tonkatsu on top?”

“Oooh… that does sound good. Yeah, I think there’s an option for that. Chicken tonkatsu with curry rice, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Gotcha. Is that what everybody wants?”

“Yeah, Totty,” Choromatsu injects, “just order the same thing for everybody. We’ll all eat that.”

“Okay, what about sides? Does anyone want fukujinzuke or rakkyō?”

“Geez, just… just get half of each and we can divide it up if anyone wants any.”

“Okaaay! I’m not ordering drinks from there, though… too expensive. We have tea here. Oh, I’ll get a few orders of pork curry bread, too, in case we want a snack later.”

“Well, make sure you get either three or six.”

“Yeahhhh, Cherrymatsu, I’m not stupid! I’ll just get three; I’m fine buying some, but I’m not trying to go broke! Does that sound okay, Ichimatsu-nii-san? The curry bread for later?”

It takes a moment, but finally Ichimatsu lets out a breathy, almost tearful laugh as he leans against Karamatsu’s shoulder. “Totty… you’re trying to fatten me up… you witch… you’re gonna cook me and eat me… that’s your plan, huh?…”

The whole room erupts into a small fit of laughter, even Totty who’s blushing at being teased. Ichimatsu feels Karamatsu press a kiss to his head, and he sighs. Usually he wouldn’t be able to take all of this… the attention, and Totty blabbering away, and Choromatsu trying to be responsible, and… everything.

At the moment, it feels right. Like things are supposed to be this way. Like he’s supposed to be having a bad day so his brothers can all gather around him and remind him that regardless of anything else, when one of them needs their brothers, everyone is going to be there.

Maybe he needed that reminder.

Maybe they all did.

[vennilavee]

heat, mind, soul (5)

tsoaf masterlist pairing: levi x reader of color summary: in which there is a party, and you spend the night at the survey corps HQ. and your bar is destroyed. warnings: alcohol, cursing, fluff, smut!!! 18+ word count:  5.3k a/n: i guess 2 months between each chapter is the norm for this story huh

Notification of the pre-expedition party comes in the form of one of the younger survey corps scouts walking into your bar late one evening. You recognize him as the boy you saw on the wall a few days ago. Eren.

When you had your midnight kiss with Levi on top of Wall Rose. His kiss was something that played on repeat in your head, the soft feeling of his lips against yours, his hands over your hips, the way he pressed himself against you when you both fell asleep…

Despite the grimness of this world, his warmth and the map of his hands is a feeling that has fondly crawled into your heart and bloomed. And over the last few days, he’s stopped by when he can, opting to spend the night with you whenever possible. 

It’s moving fast, but with him, it just feels right. And for two souls from the Underground, taking things slow seems like a waste of time. Considering that you both know how fleeting life is. And that small joys should be cherished and held on to for as long as they can.

So you hold on to him. You cherish him. You ask questions about what it’s like beyond the wall, and he only looks at you as if he can see right through you-

“It’s...it would be better without the fuckin’ titans.”

“Oh, you don’t say?”

“It’s endless. There’s so much sky...trees...you would like it. You like that kinda shit.”

Levi pauses, kissing his teeth.

“I’ll take you someday. When this is over.”

You scoff. Tomorrow is not a promise for today, and you both know that.

“You shouldn’t make promises you won’t keep.”

You’re lost in your thoughts for a moment, thoughts of Levi and his steel eyes, when the boy in front of you clears his throat with wide, green eyes. 

Despite him being just a boy, you can see the undercurrent of tragedy and blood in his bright eyes.

“Think you’re a few years shy of legally being able to buy a drink from me, Eren,” You say dryly, wiping a beer glass with a cloth.

“I’m not here for a drink,” Eren says, sounding affronted, “I’m here because the commander wanted to relay a message to you.”

“Your commander and his captain couldn’t come tell me themselves, huh,” You mutter under your breath.

“Oh, you’re telling me that Captain Levi isn’t going to be stopping by soon?” Eren says smugly, without batting an eyelash and you gasp at his attitude.

“That’s-that’s not-” You sputter, cheeks warming up at his grin, “What is the message, Eren?”

“The commander is requesting your services for a party in about a week. He wants you to provide alcohol and drinks for the Survey Corps.”

“O-oh,” You nod, “Yes, I can do that. Just give me the details and I’ll do my best.”

Eren tells you that he and some other members of the Survey Corps will arrive during the day to help bring the barrels and bottles of alcohol over to headquarters. You don’t bother to tell Eren that you are well aware of where the Survey Corps headquarters is located. 

Because Levi somehow trusted you enough with that information.

The thought of seeing the castle where Levi lives sends a rush of nerves through you. He hasn’t invited you himself, not yet at least. After all, he usually stops by your bar more often than not and you’ve never asked to see the castle.

You think that Captain Levi of the Survey Corps probably has more pressing things to worry about than the blossomed feelings of the bartender pining after him.

Perhaps his leg is still slightly hurting him, you think. Levi had mentioned here and there that sometimes his leg would ache at random moments. You wonder how much of him aches and how much of it he internalizes. He hasn’t been by to see you in a few days, and if you’re a little disappointed, you’ll keep it to yourself. 

Because there are more pressing things, and you’ll see him soon enough.

Levi wonders if he should ask you to stay the night. After all, you’ll be essentially hosting this gathering for the rowdy soldiers of the Survey Corps. And you’d probably be tired by the end of the whole ordeal.

He’s already tired from it, and it hasn’t even happened yet. But if you’re there, that makes it a little more bearable.

Levi tries not to stare when you walk into the mess hall with Jean and Connie on either side of you, each carrying a barrel of what he presumes is wine while talking your ear off. And you smile with them, laugh with them.

You’ve been here for two seconds and Levi can already tell that you fit in with them. And he struggles to keep his eyes off of you- the fit of your long black skirt hugging your hips and the green blouse tucked into your skirt, gold hoops on either ear…

Pretty. You look pretty and Levi’s throat goes dry.

He catches your eye and you offer him a crooked smile. Levi makes his way over to you and tells (really, demands) Jean and Connie to go get the other crates of alcohol, and you smile a little wider at him.

“Missed me so much that you wanted to throw a party here, huh?” Levi says, letting his fingers brush over your clothed elbow. His touch is fleeting, barely there, but you can’t help but try to lean closer to him for more.

“You caught me,” You reply dryly, “I wanted to see you so bad that I offered more than half of my stash of liquor for you to consume in a single night. You know, I should report you to the MP’s for encouraging underage drinking. Pretty sure your kids were frothing at the mouth just from the smell of beer.”

“Underage drinking? Yeah, right,” Levi scoffs with a roll of his eyes, “Those kids wouldn’t be able to tell water from wine.”

Levi brushes his pinky finger over yours and the small touch sends your heart accelerating. 

You let out a laugh, your head tipping back in mirth and you miss the flash of fondness in Levi’s grey eyes.

“You gonna give me the official tour or what,” You ask. You’re curious about the space that Levi lives in, about where his friends and colleagues live. The Survey Corps has always felt like an enigma to you- a flurry of forest green capes and silver blades. 

“Maybe later. Don’t you have work to do?” Levi says, voice flat but you catch the undercurrent of teasing.

“You gonna help me? You didn’t even help me bring the barrels inside.”

“You had it covered.”

“Oh, did I? If your kids are drunk off of the fumes, don’t blame me.”

Levi exhales sharply, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips. The sound echoes in your heart, a sound you never want to let go of.

“You’re stupid,” Levi mutters and pokes your forehead. You only beam at him.

Organized chaos fills the mess hall quickly once the Survey Corps begins to fill in to the hall. You can’t help but wonder when the last time any of them had laughed like this- were they laughing for themselves or fallen soldiers and comrades? Both? It’s the least you could give them, you think.

The raucous sounds of laughter and shouts emerge from the corner of the mess hall, where you spot Eren and a few other boys his age. Namely, one of them with brown hair. They’re yelling at each other, about to start throwing fists, while a crowd forms around them.

Nobody moves to stop them, but clearly, everyone’s either too intoxicated or too lazy to try. But really, maybe this is a reprieve that they all need. 

The shouts get louder and punches start being thrown. You pay it no mind, expecting someone in the Survey Corps to stop them. Before you can give it another moment of your attention, your vision is blocked.

You look up, somehow maintaining a perfect poker face when you come in contact with Erwin Smith’s deep, blue eyes.

“Was wondering when the Commander himself was going to grace me with his holy presence,” You remark dryly.

He only looks at you in that disarming way. The same way he looked at you the first time you saw him in your bar. And it’s a look you’ve seen on him from years ago.

You’re very familiar with him, it seems. And the thing you both have in common is Levi.

“I assume you found your way here alright?” Erwin asks. He’s intimidating and his mere gaze makes you swallow nervously.

“Yes, Eren and the rest were really helpful. And thank you for asking me to supply you. I’m really-”

“I trust anyone who Levi trusts,” Erwin says simply and your jaw nearly drops.

“Do you?” You can’t help the question and Erwin looks amused.

“Do you have something you want to say?” Erwin asks, his eyebrow raised.

Your palms sweat- should you tell him? Should you tell him that you recall seeing him all those years ago in the Underground? Should you tell him that you and Liya had been paranoid that he and he team were coming for you and your little not-so-legal operation?

“No, not at all,” You shake your head, “And a word of advice- maybe it’s not a good idea to blindly trust anyone who your Captain trusts.”

“Who said anything about blindly trusting anyone?”

And he walks away from you, effectively rendering you speechless. You think he has that effect on people quite often.

By the time the night ends, it’s well past midnight. In fact, it’s closer to three in the morning, and your eyes are burning with sharp fatigue. Most of the Survey Corps soldiers had drank their fill and the descent into drunkenness had been a merry one.

You always love to see how people enjoy the things you create. It’s part of why you genuinely enjoy being a bartender. But making drinks for the entirety of the Survey Corps was pretty taxing, even if you had enjoyed every minute of it.

And if Erwin Smith himself had paid you well and complimented your bartending skills, it was a win for you.

You had managed to have a few drinks of earthwater to ease your nerves, but now you were eager to go home and go to bed. Sleep is calling your name, and yet your eyes always land on Levi.

He hadn’t approached you much during the night. Not that it bothers you. You know he wants to let you be in your element without him as a distraction. But really, he’s not a distraction for you.

Levi sees you yawn a few times and something hesitant gets stuck in his throat. What is he so hesitant for? It’s so late already. It would be stupid for you to walk home right now, let alone walk home alone.

He could walk you home, he supposes. But he doesn’t want to do that either. It’s been a few days since he’s seen you last. Since he’s stayed the night with you.

Maybe you could stay the night with him. For the first time.

Levi scoffs at his own internal monologue.

“It’s late,” Levi says off-handedly. Everyone else has cleared away from the mess hall, taking their drunken antics with them to bed.

“Great observation,” You mutter.

“Stay with me tonight,” Levi says. He says it so easily, as if it’s not the first time he’s asking you to stay with him. He forces himself to look you in the eyes, amused to see a knowing grin on your face.

“I was waiting for you to ask. Can’t believe it took you until three in the morning to ask me to stay the night-”

“Don’t make me rescind my offer.”

“What a gentleman,” You tease.

“Shut up.”

Once the door of his bedroom closes, you immediately tug his wrist and he turns around, about to ask you what’s wrong. But instead, you impatiently press your lips to his, tasting liquor on his tongue immediately. Levi tastes sweet and minty, refreshing like a cool sunrise.

Your hands are instantly in his hair, chest pressed against his. His hands hover over your hips before sinking his fingers over your ass.

“Missed you,” You say into his mouth, your voice soft and sweet. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, somehow already knowing that he was aching to be near you. To hold you, to touch you.

Levi lets himself indulge with you a little longer- the press of your hips against his is too much for him to want to resist. His hand cradles your neck as he steals your breath with soft lips. You don’t think you ever want to live in a world where you can’t feel his quiet desire.

“Wait,” He rasps and you look at him with wide eyes, “Go change.”

“And what would you have me change into?” You ask with a raised eyebrow, “I don’t have clothes here.”

“I have clothes,” Levi murmurs, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“They’ll be small on me-”

“Just try them on,” Levi hushes you and pulls you towards his mahogany armoire. You can’t resist touching the different iterations of his uniform, his dress shirts, his trenchcoat. And then his linen night clothes.

“You’re not shopping,” Levi says dryly, “Stop touching everything.”

You smack his chest lazily. “I’m assessing my options. I guess this’ll do-”

You pull a shirt from his closet, it’s soft under your fingertips and you wonder how it might look on you. Maybe Levi would enjoy the sight of his clothes on you the same way you had enjoyed your own clothes on him. Levi gives you a shirt, similar to the style of the grey linen shirt you enjoy seeing him in.

“Turn around,” You shoo him away.

“I’ve literally seen you naked,” Levi says flatly, but turns around regardless. He hears you rustling your clothes off and hopes that you don’t let your clothes drop to the floor. What a mess.

You neatly fold your clothes and place them inside his armoire, tucked into the corner. Levi can’t resist turning around and catching a peek of your bare legs, a hint of cotton black panties, and the way his shirt cinches around your waist.

Levi swallows. 

“Told you it wouldn’t fit,” You say pointedly, “Look at this-”

Levi’s looking alright. His shirt rides up on you, your bare belly and your hips calling for his touch. The shirt is tight over your chest, your breasts defined and detailed by the fit of the shirt. You’re afraid to raise your arms too high, for fear of ripping the shirt.

“Looks great to me,” Levi murmurs, stepping closer to you. His hands instantly grip your hips, your warm skin under his fingertips and pliant to his touch. 

“You’re only saying that because you have to,” You roll your dark eyes playfully and smack his chest. He takes your wrist, thumb absently soothing your pulse and he raises your wrist to his lips. He presses a light kiss to your inner wrist, leaving your heart fluttering and your lips upturned.

“I don’t have to do anything,” Levi points out.

“Yeah,” You breathe, “But you should kiss me-”

Levi easily picks you up, his hands tight on your thighs and carries you to his bed, dropping you carefully on his crisp, cotton sheets. Everything smells like him, his beige sheets, his pillow, his covers. You could drown, and you’d gladly sink in love with him.

You’re both a synchronized mess of limbs and lips, of murmurs and moans- neither of you can get enough of touching the other. It’s only been a few days, maybe a week or so, but you’re overcome with a familiar feeling. A familiar feeling of longing, of not wanting to let him go. You cross your ankles hastily around his narrow waist, pulling him closer to you.

The dimming light of the candle at Levi’s bedside illuminates the soft planes of your face, giving your brown skin a fiery glow. You look like you belong here, your dark hair a sharp contrast against his sheets. You look like you belong here, with him, in between his sheets and fitting in the rough crevices of your hands.

But your hands are rough, too, in the way that they scale his back. Your touch is rough but gentle against his scarred skin. The scars on your skin match some of his and he squeezes your hands as he dips his head to meet your rouged lips. 

Levi wonders if he should pull away from you. Not just from this moment, but from you in all of your fire. If embracing his feelings for you is dangerous, then he’ll be a risk to himself.

If his feelings are something to avoid for some grand, noble cause that he doesn’t quite understand, he won’t. Not when he’ll regret it if he does. Not when the noises he pulls from you, the soft sighs and breathy calls of his name sound so sweet to his ears. Not when the cacophony of your sweet noises shoot straight down to his cock.

He won’t deny himself of this divine rapture- nothing would ever compare to the way your moans crescendo in his ear, only for your wet, warm walls to squeeze down all around him. Levi kisses the junction in between your shoulder and your neck, panting into your glistening skin as he rolls his hips into yours. His hands are bruising over your hips, hands squeezing every inch of your skin that he can.

Levi’s eyes are blazing, bits of grey steel sputtering out in ash when he looks at you. The intensity of his gaze makes your cheeks heat up, and instead you tip your head up for a needy kiss.

He curls a hand around your warm cheek, stilling inside of you momentarily. “Are you with me?” Levi murmurs. He’s so close to your face that soft puffs of his breath tickles your nose.

“Yes,” You mumble hoarsely, “I’m with you.”

Waking up next to Levi in his bed felt as natural as anything else in the world. As the sun rose, illuminating his bedroom with soft rays of gold, you did, too. Specifically, you woke up to Levi’s hands on you and his lips attached to the back of your neck.

You could get used to this. You could really get used to this.

“You don’t have anything to do today?” You ask, sleep still curled in your voice.

“Couple things later,” Levi murmurs, “For now, just us.”

“Okay,” You hum, closing your eyes and almost drifting back into sleep.

Mornings with Levi are slow and steady. Just the way you like it. No interruptions outside of the concrete walls of his bedroom, only your breaths and his. He slots himself between your legs and you make a home out of him as the sunlight pours onto your skin.

Levi doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as beautiful as the golden sunshine on your brown skin. 

Once you and Levi are both dressed, Levi wordlessly hands you something heavy in your hands. It’s in a sleek, black box and you raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

“What’s this? Parting gift?” You ask. Levi rolls his eyes and opens the box for you. It’s a silver dagger, one that looks a little used.

You look up at him with wide, confused eyes. 

“In case you need it,” Levi says simply.

In case you need something to remember me by.

A bullet almost as wide as your palm slings past you and into the shelf of alcohol behind you. Before you can shout at whoever it was for destroying your precious liquor, a piercing pain erupts from your upper arm.

Blood drips down your arm, staining the edges of your nice blouse. The bullet grazed your bare arms apparently and Levi meets your eyes from his position behind the bar counter. Silently, you tell him you’re fine and to handle his mess. He gives you a curt nod and eyes the bottle of alcohol in front of him and takes your shotgun.

He always would ask you why you had a shotgun if you never learned how to properly use it. And you’d tell him you’ve always been a knife kind of girl, as he should know.

You briefly wonder how Levi reacts so quickly. Are you in shock? Why are you thinking about Levi’s quick reflexes when your arm is bleeding out? You feel lightheaded but you force yourself to stay awake and stand firm. It’s your bar, and you’ll be damned if anyone gets in the way of that.

Words and the shouts around you sound muffled to your ears. You briefly hear Levi and the stranger with a fedora exchange a few remarks, before Levi lifts your shotgun over his head and shoots. Your ears are ringing fiercely and you barely hear Levi mutter to you that he’ll try to come back to you before tossing one of your bar stools out of the door and into the stranger.

“That’s my fuckin chair,” You mutter, “Ass.”

Levi doesn’t look back at you before swinging away on his cables. You hear the sharp twist of blades and the booming sound of bullets fill the air once more before black dots coat your vision and you pass out.

Cradling your left arm close to your chest, you survey the damage at your bar. The bar top itself is split in half with stray pieces of wood littering the floor. The stench of fear and adrenaline lingers in the air, even though it’s just you in the bar.

You decide to tell Levi that you’re putting the damages on the Survey Corps’ tab.

You had woken up several hours ago in the infirmary, with a nurse and a doctor looking at you warily-

The throbbing in your arm had subsided for the most part but you just felt so… woozy. 

“We cleaned out your wound while you were passed out. Unfortunately, it does require stitches. Eight to be exact.”

“You couldn’t do that when I was passed out, too?” You groan hoarsely. Stiffness begins to settle into your left arm and you wince.

And about thirty minutes after that, you had left the infirmary alone with only the new moon as your company. You vaguely remember Misaki being in the infirmary with you, but you had told her to go home. She had a younger sister to take care of, after all. That much you remember, in your exhausted delirium.

Sweat breaks out over your forehead when you attempt to pick up the pieces of broken wood from the floor. You manage to clean all of two feet of space before giving up from exertion. You sit in front of what remains of your bar counter and lean your head back with your eyes closed.

What a day. You hope Levi’s okay, and that whatever reason he had for dramatically slamming into your bar completely unannounced was worth it.

He’d roll his eyes at you if he heard you.

“You gonna sit there all day or what?” A voice, quite possibly one of your favorite voices, calls from the entrance of your bar.

“We’re closed. For construction,” You reply, still with your eyes closed.

You hear his footfalls before they stop right in front of your crossed legs and he crouches down to be eye-level with you. You feel his fingers brush over your bandages and you finally open your eyes to come face to face with Levi himself.

“Hey,” You murmur, the last bits of your strength evaporating into the air with your words.

“You should be resting,” Levi says, eyes intensely trained on you. 

“I suppose,” You reply, “You should be resting, too.”

You eye the cut over his eyebrow and splotches of dried blood caked over his cheeks. You wonder if it’s his blood.

“Couldn’t even make it upstairs?” Levi asks, ignoring your comment.

“Obviously not,” You roll your eyes.

“I should leave you here. For that mouth of yours.”

“Shut up. I quite literally took a bullet for you, so help me up, Captain Levi.”

His eyes soften marginally at that. He pulls away from you to quickly clear away the broken pieces of wood strewn across the floor. He hoists you up with his hands gently over your ribcage. You’ll never deny his touch on any part of you, and you both know it.

Levi carries you to your small but cozy apartment above the bar when he sees you fighting off fatigue. He wonders if you do that for his benefit. Pretend like you’re not the most tired you’ve been in a long time just so he doesn’t feel bad about it.

He knows of your tough exterior and he knows your smart mouth. But he knows that you’re soft, too.

Levi seats you on the edge of your bed and you watch him flit around your apartment with tired eyes. He’s been here enough times to know where things are- ointment, bandages, medicine, water.

“Stitches?” 

“Eight of them,” You nod.

Levi wordlessly peels your bandages off of your skin. You expect a sharp sting, but there is none. Only Levi’s rough fingers gently prodding at your skin.

“I could’ve done a better job,” Levi scoffs, “Look at this. It’s going to leave a scar.”

“Should I have waited for you while you brought your fancy medical supplies?” You snark, “Besides, it’s okay. Nobody will fuck with me now.”

Levi ducks his head to examine your stitches further, but you’re certain he’s rolling his eyes at you again. His fingers are gentle and warm along the outer areas of your fresh stitches. He washes his hands before dabbing ointment over the gash and wrapping it with new bandages. 

“You should watch what I’m doing, rather than stare at me. I won’t be around to change your bandages every night,” Levi says without looking at you.

“What an honor that would be,” You mutter, “Having you stay longer than a night. What a dream.”

He hears the bite in your teasing, but lets it go. Hands brush over his cheek, fingers flitting over his eyebrow curiously. You pad across the skin there, satisfied when you feel a mostly healed cut.

“And you? You were bleeding when you flew in here. Who was that guy anyway? Can’t believe he fuckin’ shot me. In my own fuckin’ bar. What an ass.”

“That was Kenny.”

“That was Kenny?”

“Yes, close your mouth. You look like a fish out of water.”

“How else do you want me to react? The guy who raised you is trying to kill you? What the hell, Levi?”

“He’s part of the shitty MP now. With the interior police.”

He can’t hide the disdain in his voice.

“Wasn’t he the one who killed over a hundred MP’s? Kenny the Ripper?”

“The one and only.”

You’re quiet for a few moments, fingers reaching behind him to lightly scratch his undercut. Levi dares to let out a quiet sigh, closing his eyes and allowing himself a few moments of silence. And you. You press your forehead to his, a light breath tickling his nose.

Dark circles under his closed eyes are prominent and his shoulders seem to slump in your embrace. He’s tired, even if he’ll never say it.

“Stay with me tonight?” You whisper, breaking the silence. Levi opens his slate grey eyes and peers into your own, reluctance already swirling in them.

You press a kiss to his jaw. His cheek. The corner of his mouth. Finally, his lips. As if you’re trying to coax him into staying with you.

Like he needed any persuasion to begin with.

“I have to leave early tomorrow,” Levi finally says. You nod and he buries his head in your neck, breaths soft and steady against your skin. His chapped lips are rough but welcome over your throat as he kisses you. Levi is gentle with you, mindful of your arm, as he melts into you wordlessly.

You wonder if this man knows the extent of how deeply he’s burrowed himself within you. You wonder if he knows that your blood and your heart belong to him.

The words, the confession. It never comes, no matter how often you think of spilling the words from your lips. It remains silent in your throat, caged away like a bird that will never sing.

You tug at Levi’s shirt, trying to lift it off of him with one hand. Mostly, you want to see if he has any fresh bruises that need attention. But you always get distracted by him and his curious hands.

But tonight, you can tell his mind is wandering. And you can tell he needs to sleep. You wish he’d sleep with you for half a day, or even sleep in with you once in a while. But you can only dream.

“Levi,” You say softly, “Will you help me get out of these clothes? I’m so tired. Kinda want to just… lay down.”

You rub your eyes and press your forehead to his shoulder. You sigh contentedly as his hand rubs your back and you lazily rub his chest.

“Sit up then,” He murmurs. He knows where your sleep clothes are, and pulls out one of two shirts he had given to you weeks ago. To remember him by.

Levi undresses you, deliberately sending you little shocks with his touch across your warmed skin. His lips are upturned slightly. He’s being playful. He tosses your clothes in your laundry bin as you crawl into bed, waiting for him.

“Wait,” You say sheepishly, “Can I have some water? I mean, I’d do it myself. But I’m just so cozy right now.”

Levi kisses his teeth in pretend annoyance but brings two glasses of water to bed with him. One for you and one for him. You drink generously, watching him change into sleep clothes before he blows out the candle on your nightstand. Levi climbs into your bed and immediately pulls you to him, fingers under your shirt instantly. His arm is around your waist, wrapped around you, quiet and steady. He’s careful not to touch your injured arm. 

There are a million things you want to say to him. You want to speak to him until the sun comes up, not wanting to waste a second more with him. You want to hear about every second of his day and you want to tell him about every second of yours. His time with you is rare and limited and you’re always left yearning for more when he inevitably leaves you for the world.

His world. The one without you in it.

You swallow those slippery thoughts down, and instead snake your fingers through his hair and enjoy the way he hums into your neck. Levi rubs the bandaged area around your arm gingerly. His touch is gentle and featherlight, yet still somehow carrying all the words he doesn’t say in it.

“I need to get you another chair, I think.”

“You need to get me another bar, I think. I’m putting it on the Survey Corps’ tab. It’s a Levi tax. A levy if you will.”

“Hilarious,” Levi mutters, but you hear the airy chuckle against your skin. You laugh with him, before turning towards him and cupping his cheek. He meets your dark eyes, peering at you as if he can see your heart beating through your gaze.

“Sleep, Levi. Wake me before you go,” You say softly, pressing a fierce kiss to his lips.

Levi allows himself to get lost in you, in your familiar jasmine scent. He allows himself the luxury of a lover stealing his breath away at least once more.

Sleep comes easily for him that night. As it usually does, when he’s with you.

tags: @simpingmaize @captainchrisstan @alrightberries @kentobean​ @melancholicmonologue​

[1-800-hellraiser]

Jealous

Requested by: no one

Word Count:

Aged up?: Nope

Song: Jealous - Eyedress

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"You could have anyone you want. Why would you want to be with me? I'm nothing special." 

      Pikeman sits silently on his cot, his shitty day finally coming to an end. It was very hot out today, so hot that a couple Woodscouts had a heatstroke and had to be sent to their tents for the day. On top of that, he keeps thinking about you. Usually that would be a good thing, but Pikeman is very insecure. He acts like hot shit to hide that. He doesn't know how he leanded someone like you. You're stunning, kind, funny, everything he feels that he dosen't deserve. 

       He sighs, running his hand through his auburn red hair, he really doesn't deserve you. He's a stupid, ugly, pizza - faced freak. You deserve to be with someone like David, one of the counselors you work with. He'd be a way better boyfriend than Pikeman, wouldn't he? His eyes begin to water, he wishes he could turn off his brain completely. Pikeman decides to go to sleep, maybe that will destract him from his destructive thoughts. 

      After a night of restless sleep, Pikeman awakes at eight in the morning. He was about to panic before realizing Snake and Petrol are taking over for him today because you and him are going to meet up in the woods next to Camp Cambell. Getting up, he walks over to his dresser and picks out some casual clothes. He picks out a pair of denim jeans and a grey hoodie. After that, he makes his way to the showers to get ready.

      Once he's done showering, Pikeman styles his hair as usual, having two little tufts of auburn hair stick up from his head. After that, he seeks out Patrol and Snake, to make sure they both know what they're doing. After walking around the camp for a bit, he finds them near the mess hall, discussing today's plans. "Snake, Petrol." Pikeman adresses the men, they both salute him. "Yes sir." Snake says. 

      "You both discussed todays plans, correct?" Pikeman inquires, shifting his gaze frkm Snake, to Petrol. "Yes sir." Snake repeats as Patrol nods. "Good. Now, don't let me down men. You know what will happen if you let me down, right?" Pikeman reminds. Petrol and Snake nod, Snake shivers a bit, recalling the punishment in question. "Alright men, and remember," Pikeman says walking away "Don't fuck this up." He says, sending a glare back to Snake and Petrol.

      Pikeman makes his way onto the shore of Camp Cambell. He makes sure to stay a safe distance away from the camp, so he doesn't get caught. He walks through the dense forest and up to the edge of a cliff that you both like to go to hang out. Pikeman smiles sadly, this is the place he asked you out at. He remembers like it was only yesterday. 

      It was the day of the Lake Lilac social. You both danced for hours on end. You never took your eyes off of eachother. After a couple hours of dancing, you took Pikemans hand and lead him out of the Camp Cambell mess hall, through the forest, and up to the edge of a cliff. The cliff had a gorgeous view over Lake Lilac, and a beautiful view of that night's full moon.

      You both sat down and talked about nothing in particular. Pikeman has been hyping himself up all day for this very moment. "Y/n? Can I ask you something?" You turn to face him, your stunning e/c eyes looking into his golden ones. "Yeah, what's up Eddie?" Pikeman's heart skips a beat at the nickname. "Um, I was wondering if you'd like to be my significant other?" He finishes, glancing at your face for a reaction.

     Your face lights up. "Oh Eddie, I'd love too!" You exclaim. Pikeman can feel a smile form on his face. You grab his face and bring it closer to yours, bringing you into a passionate kiss. After the kiss, Pikeman had to go back to the Woodscouts camp, but he made sure to give you love before he left. 

      Pikeman sighs, sitting at the edge of the cliff. The Lake Lilac social was three weeks ago. How has his attitude changed so drastically within the span of a couple weeks? "They should just break it off with me, I'm not good enough for them," Pikeman thinks to himself. God, he wishes he could get rid of these wretched thoughts that plauge his mind. Pikeman is pulled out of his thoughts by a familiar voice. 

      "Hey babe." You say, sitting down next to him on the cliff. "Sorry I was late, David and I had to round up the kiddos. Never teach fire safty camp and political history camp unless you want it to turn into riot control camp." You explain with a giggle. Pikeman giggles back and replies with a soft "yeah." You can immediately tell something was wrong, Pikeman is never really shy around you. He never has been, I guess he got a bit shy confessing to you the day of the Lake Lilac social. But other than that, he's never been remotely shy/not talkative around you.

       "Hey, is something bothering you?" You ask in a concerned tone. Pikeman turns to you with a soft smile. "Everythings okay." He says, his eyes say otherwise. They say eyes are windows to the soul and you can tell his soul hurts. Something is up with him, is he scared to tell you? "You can tell me anything, you know that right?" You say with an endearing tone. Pikemans heart begins to hurt, he knows he can tell you anything, but he's not ready to tell you he's not good enough. 

        "So...how have you been?" You ask, trying to break the awkward silence. "I've been okay, what about you?" Pikeman responds, you can tell he doesn't want to talk about himself. "I've been pretty good actually, camp's kind of a pain in the ass, but whats new?" You answer, he chuckles. "What's going on at your camp?" "Y'know, the usual training and occasional raid on other camps, what about yours?" Pikeman responds, you let out a tired sigh. "Oh my god literally everything. It's very unpredictable, but it's pretty fun to be honest. Keeps me on my toes too." You respond, rubbing your temples.

     "I'm so glad I have David and Gwen to help me, especially David. He just, has a way with some of the campers y'know? He can manage kids well. Sure he can sometimes be a spineless pushover, but that's where Gwen and I come in. We're the perfect trio to run a camp. And that's what makes my job so much fun." You explain chuckling to yourself. Pikeman gives a half hearted chuckle and looks away. Maybe you pushed him to far? But how? You don't think you did anything wrong.

     "Are you okay? Be truthful with me please." You sigh out. Pikeman sighs and looks down, not answering your question. "Baby, I wanna know what's wrong so I can fix it and apologize. You know I love you, and would never want to hurt you, right?" You say, puting a comforting hand on his back. That's what broke him. "No you dont." He hisses. "What? Of course I do." You say back, trying to reason with him. "Stop lying, I know you want to be with David." Pikeman says with watery eyes. 

     You shake your head in disbelief. "What? Where did this come from?" You ask. "It's the way you talk about him. You always put him on a pedestal and talk about how good of a counselor he is. I feel so insignificant when you talk about him like that, like you would just be better off with him..." Pikeman trails off, a tear rolls down his pale face. You didn't know that this was a problem. You hadn't known Pikeman was so insecure, he hides it so well. 

      Wrapping your arms around his lanky frame, you pull your boyfriend into a tight hug. "Sweetheart, I don't have a thing for David. I see him as a brother figure, I look up to him. I want to learn from him and become better. I love you more than you could ever imagine, and I don't plan on leaving you for anyone. Ever." You say softly, rubbing comforting circles into his back and running your hand through his hair. Poor boy is in tears now, sobbing into your shoulder. Ridding himself of all of his negative emotions about you and David.

      "You're so attractive, kind, and funny. You could have anyone you want, why would you want to be with me? I'm a nobody compared to you..." Pikeman says through tears. He holds you close, practically squeezing you. He's afraid that you will leave if he lets go, he doesn't want to ever let go. "Eddie don't say that, you're so fucking handsome, and funny, and just...inspiring. The way you're able to overcome and adapt so quickly amazes me. That makes you somebody. You're somebody to your troop, you're somebody to me."

      You gently caress Pikeman's face in your hands and wipe his tears away with your thumbs. He looks at you with awe. You love him. You actually love him. This isn't a daydream, it's real. You managed to pull him out of his haze of disbelief and insecurity. He feels more like himself again, not like an insecure boy. He's still insecure, but not as much. You both sit there for a while, just hilding each other and being in eachother's presence.

[lovelypasteldreams]

WC: 1.1k

Pairing: Tanaka R. x F!Reader

Genre: angst (minor), fluff, wedding vibes

Summary: Tanaka Ryunosuke has been in love with Kiyoko Shimizu from the moment he laid eyes on her in the gym. She was his goddess, the one he worships the ground she walks on. He would do anything to see her happy, and he does. So why does it hurt so much? And why do you have the same expression as him?

____________________

He always had eyes for one woman up until that fateful day. He always showered her in affection, praising the ground she walked on. She was a Goddess that the heavens above have sent down to bless him with. Everything about her was perfect. From the way she spoke to that of her extraordinary beauty. 

Her presence left everyone within a hundred-mile radius looking at her - as if she was the only one in the room. She was the sun on a clear day, a dazzling ball of light that brought forth the best in everyone with just a simple word. She was ethereal.

 He had never witnessed anything more enchanting than watching her steadily walk down the aisle. The room was in slow motion, the sounds of the music now white noise in the background. Everyone’s gaze was solely on her, her face was highlighted in a minuscule amount of makeup, only being there to enhance her natural beauty. 

Midwinter eyes glowed ever so gently with shimmers of undying love and affection. Pools of feathery soft black hair fall over her shoulders in waves. Time resumes when she finally makes it to the altar, eyes connecting. She gives him a soft smile as the music eventually stops. 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join these two women in holy matrimony.” It was then did their eyes finally tear apart, her steel grey connecting with warm pools of honey brown. 

And once again, everything was blocked out. He could see the pastors' lips moving but he couldn’t hear what they were saying, the sounds overpowered by the tug in his heart. 

It was her wedding so why did he feel so bad? Why did he have this ugly thudding in his chest? It coats his heart in a sickly glaze, leaving him feeling as if he was weighed down by a thousand bricks. The faint sounds of  ‘I do’ rang through his ears and before he knew it, the ceremony ended.

Hitoka and Shimizu were bound together forever now, their bondage completed. Everyone was heading outside to the reception while he stood grounded to his spot. He subconsciously raises his hand to his chest, gripping it tightly as his face contorts into that of heartbreak. If only she was his, maybe then-

“Hey,” a soft voice calls out before a hand gently rests on his forearm, breaking him from his trance. “You alright?”

He wordlessly looks around, wondering why it was so quiet. Noticing the lack of people in the chapel, he felt himself grow tired, as if he aged ten years in two seconds. Finally, his eyes land on the figure next to him, his normally boisterous attitude now dim. He lazily scans her features. 

Her (h/c) hair gently rests on the top of her head. (E/c) orbs peer back at him with a certain look in them, one he’s sure he’s seen on his own almost a thousand times now. He looks down at the hand connecting them, her (s/c) skin standing out against the white dress that fades to a soft blue. He gave her a small strained smile, shrugging off her touch gently.

“I’m fine, no need to worry about me. Promise!” he chuckles, refusing to let their eyes meet.

However the female knew better, she could tell exactly what he was feeling, it was like looking into a mirror. 

“Don’t lie. I know that look more than anyone. You loved her, didn’t you? I could tell by the way your eyes followed after her. Up until the end of the aisle.” She hums. Tanaka stays quiet, it’s not like he could disagree. He should’ve known that someone who has the same look of heartbreak in their eyes would be able to sniff out his lies. 

He laughs dryly. 

“I could say the same to you. Every time i would see Yachi, you would be right at her hip with the same look in your eyes…” he trails off, their eyes locked.

“Looks like we’re more alike than we thought…” they both keep eye contact before she breaks it. They both let out weak chuckles before nudging one another along. 

“C’mon,” he chuckles, pushing her along. “Let's go support our girls on their special day.”

----------

It was after the wedding did they agree to exchange numbers. They agreed to meet up and hang out as they start to establish their friendship. One meet up at the cafe led to them going to the movies another night. And from the movies, they visit amusement parks. Months pass as they grow closer and closer, their bond tightening to what outsiders would view as something more. 

It was a few months after getting to know each other and the wedding that they both decided to visit the newlyweds and see how things are going for them. Picking a day for them all to meet up, it was then did Hitoka and Shimizu notice something different with the two.

Hitoka had left to go with (Y/n) to grab more drinks, leaving Tanaka and Shimizu alone to talk. 

“Tanaka, it seems you and (Y/n) have gotten rather close lately,” she hums teasingly, sipping on her water. Tanaka flushes slightly and rubs the back of his head, giving her a small toothy grin. 

“Yeah, after the wedding we decided to get to know one another. We realized we had more in common than we thought and just clicked right after that.” He plays with his cup, not realizing his dazed look. Shimizu, however, knew better and gave a smile of her own.

“Well you know Tanaka, (Y/n) is quite the looker and I’m afraid that someone might just come and snatch her away…” 

That quickly snaps him out of his daze as he hurriedly looks at Shimizu with a fierce expression, 

“As if I’ll let some snot-nosed bastard steal her off her feet!” He continues to rant heatedly, however, he was soon cut off by Shimizu's soft laughter, her eyes gleaming in adorance. 

“...I’m happy you finally found someone you can give your affection to. It truly sets my heart at ease.” He looks at her in shock before a soft smile mellows out his face. 

His eyes wander away from the woman before him and over towards where he can see you and Hitoka giggling to each other. Everything about you was magic to him. From your loud chortles that filled up the room to the bright aura that surrounds your joyous form. You couldn’t have been more perfect in his eyes.

“..Yeah, me too…”

[satingrove]

there is no maker

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: you secretly watch obi-wan teach a group of younglings. one senses his feelings of love, prompting you to leave. he seeks you out.

wc: 2.258k

warnings: some angst, sad and lonely obi-wan, fluff, RAIN

“There is no emotion, there is…?” Obi-Wan Kenobi sits before a half-circle of younglings, waiting patiently for a signal and the completing word of the sentence. “Yes, go ahead Gungi.” He smiles warmly.

“There is peace?” Gungi watches the Jedi Master timidly, though he knows his answer is correct.

“Very good, little one.” Obi-Wan affirms the tentative reply from the Wookie, offering a second cozy grin in his direction. He recalls the repetition of the Code from his own youth, the endless chanting of the same words that deny the existence of emotion, ignorance, passion, chaos, and even the wicked hands of death. But it doesn’t hurt him to revisit it in the lesson he teaches now, with the bright and shining younglings of the next generation of Jedi.

Gungi’s sigh of relief does not go unnoticed, the sound of air pushing out of lungs prominent in the quiet Temple room. Continuing through the mantra, Obi-Wan recites the poetic form of the Jedi Code, leaving out words for the younglings to add in themselves, a symbol of their understanding.

They reach the final lines, There is no chaos, there is harmony, and he feels his chest swell with honour.

“Can I do the last line, Master Kenobi?” An enthusiastic Tholothian, Katooni, chimes in. Obi-Wan agrees, calmly but showing encouragement for her.

“There is no death, there is the Force.” She flutters her eyes closed as she delivers the line, a level voice and a sense of dignity.

As Katooni mentions the Force, an additional pair of robes sweep into the clear room, unrecognized by any of the members within. You watch, arms crossed against your chest, leaning against a large marble pillar.

It’s his fault, you think, watching Obi-Wan with the children. It’s his fault that they love him so dearly, that he looks much too fatherly with them not to be a father. It pulls at your heart so deeply, the patience he holds for those prone-to-trouble juniors.

“Lovely words, yes Katooni?” Obi-Wan questions with a raised eyebrow, making the little girl giggle and cover her mouth. His fault that they love him so dearly.

“Now, I’d like you all to try and reach out with your feelings. Tell me what you sense in my direction.” Obi-Wan instructs the younglings who sit cross legged with straight backs. All is still, no shifting or fidgeting. Their eyes are closed in profound concentration.

“Master?”

“Yes, concentrate and tell me what you feel.” His eyes flick to the source of the voice, and then land on what he knows are your robes, poking out from behind a pillar. Tilting his head in dazed fondness, the corner of his lips turning upwards, he lets his shields down.

“Well… it’s changed.” A puzzled Rodian speaks. “Before, it was just serenity, but now I sense…” Love? No, surely Master Kenobi wouldn’t feel such a passion as love. 

“Go on, Ganodi. There is no judgment here with your friends.” Obi-Wan assures, vaguely gesturing to the rest of the group, and turns his stare to the fabric looming behind the pillar next to the archway, chastising himself for his wavering focus.

“Love, Master. Passion…”

You take a step outwards. Love… for what? For who? It’s something you’d rather not know, and while the domestic sight of Obi-Wan with the children is exceptionally pleasant, you’d still prefer not to know.

The Master becomes frigid, only on the inside; his exterior shows poise. He’s aware of your quick exit, the speedy flash of a cloak whisking through the archway, and he’s not without cherry blossom blush upon his cheeks.

It’s morally wrong to deny the Rodian, who guessed truthfully. He knows that. It would merely cause confusion for the poor thing, but he also knows better than to let it be known, his love and passion aren’t information which can be relayed to anyone, save for himself. And so he does save himself, by doing neither.

A soft “aww” sound, the disappointed kind, echoes when the lesson is cut short. Gungi tugs on Obi-Wan’s sleeve.

“Please, Master Kenobi? I was finally getting the hang of it!” His pleading, furry face splashes a hint of guilt into Obi-Wan’s.

“Another time, Gungi. Another time.” Looking like a tired grandpa for a split-second, he manages a forced chuckle.

-

What? and who? sit aboard your clouded train of thought. The tracks are a circle and it rides full speed, fuming and steaming. Smoke rises in your head. The vast hallways of the Jedi Temple turn into the wide exit path, and then to the winding streets of Coruscant, where it rains angrily from the skies. You suppose it’s how you feel inside. Downcast. Sodden. But rain doesn’t feel confusion. In your frenzied state, you’re smart enough to remember that. The rest of common sense is drowned with the plummeting rainfall and you don’t know where you’re headed. You don’t know why you feel jealous. For who? For what?! The wet and cold stick your robes tightly to your skin. 

Passing through a small market sector, there’s the smell of blumfruit and something even sweeter. It’s soon forgotten as you weave through groups of species you’re not sure you’ve ever seen before. A few looks are tossed your way. Jedi. You’re no stranger to the apprehensive attitudes that some hold. 

As the looks are tossed, you pay no mind to throw them back. Your emotion makes for a brisk stride. There’s little manner down in the streets of this planet, only one or two polite people making way for your trek. It’s dirty and grey and exactly the colour of your useless longing. The Maker above is thanked in a whisper when you find a private spot, covered from the rain and up a fair amount of stairs.

At this moment, you don’t feel like a Jedi. At this moment, there is passion and chaos and a generous slab of envy. The kind that has long green vines that grow and encase your heart and shield it from the sun. It takes all the golden light for itself. And for now, so do the clouds in the atmosphere, that overlook a second Jedi roaming through the streets, following the traces of a Force Signature.

-

Obi-Wan’s hood is drawn over his head, his arms tightly wound across his chest. The rain does the same to him as it did to you, making his robes cling to his body. It’s not something he has the time to care for, but whether or not he could care, did not matter. Obi-Wan is one for stormy weather, lifting his face upwards to feel raindrops trickle upon his cheeks into his light-coloured beard. The chagrin of letting the younglings down in their excitement bites at him. His hood slips off from his tilted head. 

Your Force Signature is apparent; Obi-Wan knows your sign, the sensations and presence you leave behind to other Force users to pick up on. He figures he knows it the best of all. He hopes he does.

Tracing the loops through the same market, he becomes almost grumpy with the crowded spaces that are too dense to let him keep up the pace of his urgent march. The foot of the staircase, its metallic steps gleaming with the rain, shows itself to Obi-Wan by degrees, the lethargic gaggle of strangers finally dwindling away. The passion surges.

Obi-Wan doesn’t feel like a Jedi.

-

You sense him long before he appears in front of you, soaked through all layers. It’s at your bewilderment that he remembers - you didn’t know he caught you hiding behind the pillar, so to find him at the edge of the steps, despondent, tells you something about the “who?” question that crippled your thinking patterns remarkably. The realization paints across his face and makes him turn sheepish. A revelation that, in his own desperate madness, could have been kept under the wraps of his cloak had he not suffered a lack of wit to follow you.

The cloth sticks to his body in a way that is so modestly handsome, yet simple enough for Obi-Wan’s own looks to work their charm and make it appear ethereal.

He closes his lips tightly, nodding to you as a greeting, choosing to stay in the fall of rain. Rising, you walk to meet him from a foot apart. 

“Your younglings give you away, Obi-Wan.” You offer the start of conversation with the shyness that Obi-Wan found himself yearning to be met with.

“What were you doing in there?” He replies, an air of calm leaving with his words. His tone is quizzical, and it affirms all that you love about the Jedi.

The behaviour he administers standing there, displaying the utmost respect with which he regards all things, the softest touches of compassion and fortitude looming behind his barriers. His courage is in the face of adversity, your face, and he doesn’t know how to respond to it. Adversity, its misfortune, staring him in the face through the colour of your eyes and the curve of your lips. It smiles at him and he wants to kiss it.

The war he fights, to the far reaches of the outer rim, was enough for him before, yet he’s here now, damp and cold in the maze of Coruscant, with another war inside of himself. A heart duels with a brain.

“I like to watch you teach.” Your lips are wet.

“Is that so?” He answers fast enough, as if he already knew. There is a comfortable pause with the pitter-patter sounds of water. “What made you leave?” Obi-Wan asks this and he, in fact, did know the answer to that question.

Love. Passion. Before, it was serenity.

The present was serene, wasn’t it? Obi-Wan could think so.

“Felt like intrusion.”

“The younglings handled it well.” His lips work the sentence out, but the rest of his face says and you couldn’t? 

Except, it’s pained.

Except, it’s despairing and hopeless and all things that Obi-Wan refused to show to the world. And you wonder why. As grim as it may sound, he is beautiful. In his pain, he is beautiful. To you, to anyone who might see the way his hair is unkempt and falling into his face, the blue eyes looking fixedly, expectantly at their focus, his hands at his sides and his laboured breathing bringing his chest up and down, rhythmically. The only way he comes to that appearance is because he doesn’t care to fix it, because he’s too worried about fixing everything else. 

Then, you think of how much you hate seeing him like this, intimate and secret as it is. You figure you’re among a mere two or three who have seen him sad. He’s more beautiful when the sunshine peeks from his grin. That much is true. 

“Because you’ve taught them well.” Your compliment soothes him briefly, but he adopts that unhappy look that makes you think there’s no Maker above, although you’ve just thanked it, because no Maker would have let Obi-Wan Kenobi feel the way he does right now. Forlorn. Not like himself.

And, not like himself, he loses some of his reserve.

He makes the distance minuscule. A cautious hand reaches his face and brushes over his beard, your thumb brushing kindly back and forth across his cheek. Obi-Wan absent-mindedly leans into it and he thinks of how healing it feels when you touch him. How he longs for you to keep touching him. 

You catch the sun peeking through the crack of his lips as they smile.

All he knows is that it’s been lonely. The way you speak to him, touch him, feel him, tells him that the rough edges of life and war can be softened. They can be buffered. That he can love freely, and that he’s glad it’s you.

It’s impossible for either of you to get any more wet, and the thought of shelter, even now, is abandoned along with his fear of unrequited feelings.

Obi-Wan raises his hand through the misty air, letting it fall upon and envelope yours. He brings it close to his heart, and closes his other around it. Gentleness is about the only thing you can register -  his soft movements as he becomes himself are profound and calculated. The remnants of his loneliness that had come out of hiding are already disappearing, as if he breathes it out into the air to be lost, as he himself is found.

Your hand remains clasped by both of his when his lips touch your forehead, a pillowy kiss that says what he cannot. The sun shines within him, as if kissing the moon or the stars, his perfect counterpart.

The sun softly lights the moon, and what a comparison it is, because you know that Obi-Wan is golden as he takes you in his arms and you press against each other in a burst of rays. The kind that keep you warm through all the layers of drenched robes. His nose is pressed into your shoulder, your arms wind tight around his neck. A thought of his presses into your mind, spoken in his voice, be my comfort, I seek you everyday.

Passion is in the gestures and love is in the feelings shared, one Jedi to another. 

There is no passion, there is serenity.

It’s left up to the rain to convey the serene qualities in this exchange of two fond people, who look at each other the way that lovers do.

[eberles]

i hate u, i love u

Rafe Cameron

(gif by @toesure :)

Request: A Rafe fic based on the song “I hate u, I love you” by gnash (ft Olivia O’Brien) PLEASE MAJOR RAFE VIBES 🥺💖 @fav-imagines

A/N: I wanted to cry writing this lol idk why but it hit me right in the feels!! it’s kind of all over the place, if anyone is confused by, don’t worry bc i am too!!!! lol anyways enjoy!! (this is probably the first thing ive ever written that goes with rafe’s character) bold = lyrics, italics = flashbacks

Warnings: angst, mentions of drugs, cheating, lying, toxic relationship, swearing

feelin used, but im still missin you and i cant see the end of it just wanna feel your kiss against my lips and now all this time is passing by, but i still cant seem to tell you why it hurts me every time i see you, realize how much i need you

I’ve spent months sitting in my room staring at the ceiling, and at the walls. I did a full Bella Swan from New Moon and let 3 months go by without being present for any of them. I didn’t care honestly...Even after spending all that time alone, i’m not still not healed from the heartache that was caused by him. I still miss him, his scent, his kisses, his clothes, everything. Rafe.

I went out once and he was the last person I wanted or planned to see, but of course, he was the only person I actually saw. Sure, there were other people around, but none of them mattered. Everyone else felt greyed out except for him. He was the only light I could see in those short moments. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, my breath hitched in my throat and it felt like there was no air left to breathe.

After months it still hurts to see him again. It hurts because I realized I still need him even after everything. I hate him. So why do I love him? The feeling of him being the only one I want, the one nobody could ever replace...it’s overwhelming and I can’t seem to shake it. But me? He replaced. It looked like it was easy from my point of view. He needed her, wanted her, and i’m not her.

i miss you when i can’t sleep or right after coffee or right when i can’t eat, i miss you in my front seat, still got sand in my sweaters from nights we don’t remember. do you miss me like i miss you? fucked around and got attached to you.

My head was consumed on thoughts of you. It was constant. Like the leaky faucet in the bathroom or the loose floorboard. Always running, always broken. I miss you. Maybe you’ll come around, but for now...I wish you were here instead. When it’s late and I can’t sleep, I think about you. When it’s early and I can’t eat, I think about you.

“Where are we going?” you giggled excitedly, grabbing my hand from across the console in my truck.

“Shh, I told you it’s a surprise baby, we’re almost there anyways.” I laughed at her giggling like a kid, she had so much excitement in her eyes. She was always ready for anything, even if it was 2 in the morning and I love that about her. I love everything about her.

“Ugh fine!” she groaned dramatically and rolled her eyes in a full circle looking up at the ceiling. “Why are we at the beach?” you didn’t even give me enough time to answer before jumping out of the truck and running towards the sand laughing the entire way to the water. Once I caught up with you, I grabbed your hands and pulled you close into my chest, kissing your forehead. When we broke apart I laid down a few blankets on the sand, noticing you were cold, I also gave you my sweater.

We stared at the stars and talked about anything and everything for hours. It felt magical. We stayed until the sun came up, watching the sunset before driving back to my house for some much needed rest.

Walking over to my closet, curious to know if that same sweater ended up back in my closet after that night. I reached in, digging around not finding anything and decided to look in my dresser instead. Of course, it was folded neatly in the drawer you used to call yours. Grabbing and shaking it out I noticed the light pieces of sand that fell from it. I brought it in to my nose wondering if it still smelt like your perfume. It did. I’m always tired lately, but never of you. Do you miss me too?

if i pulled a you on you, you wouldn’t like that shit, i put this reel out, but you wouldn’t bite that shit. i type a text then i never mind that shit, i got these feelings, but you never mind that shit. you’re still in love with me but your friends don’t know.

To Y/N: i wanna talk, i think...maybe i miss y-

*delete*

To Rafe: I miss you so much, it hurt someti-

*delete*

“Y/N...what’s going on? You’re off in never never land! Do you still miss him?” Kiara asked, gently shaking my knee to gain my attention back to the group. I looked at her and around at the rest of the pogues and put a smile on my face, shaking my head.

“Of course not, it’s been months! I’m so over him, guys. Besides even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.” I tried so hard to sound confident. I hope they bought it. Of fucking course, I miss Rafe. I’m still in love with him for gods sake. I hate that I want him.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Sure, i’ve moved on, but I think about y/n, just about everyday. I guess for me, moving on is finding someone new, but not actually wanting anyone new. I just couldn’t bare to be alone anymore with my thoughts. I deserve better than that, personally.

“Anyways Topper, if y/n wanted me still, she would say so right?” I looked at Topper, silently hoping he would lie to me, just tell me what I want to hear, man. “If I were her, I would’ve never let me go. She’s missing out.”

“Hell yea, dude! That’s the right attitude.” Topper said, jumping up to high five me. Of course, that was the statement he was on board with. I hate that I want you.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

I haven’t been to a party in months, Kiara and Sarah thought that this would be the most fitting post-break up activity for me. Maybe meet a new guy or something. I tuned out when they were telling me about it and just agreed. What I neglected to listen to, was that it was a kook party. So now, i’m at a party alone, since my friends ditched me to dance with each other. And on top of that, I watch him watch her, like she’s the only girl he’s ever seen.

It took less than an hour of being at this party for us to end up in a room alone together.

“You don’t care! You never did!” Rafe shouted, running his hands through his hair, clearly exasperated with this conversation. I don’t even know how it started. One minute I was watching him with another girl, and the next he was hauling me off, away from everyone.

“You don’t give a damn about me, Rafe! How is it you never notice that you’re slowly killing me?” you wanted to yell back at him, to scream at him for putting you through this again, but you couldn’t. He didn’t say anything in return so you continued, “I hate you, and I hate that I love you, Rafe.” I’ve tried to move on, but even the simple thought of dating anyone but him, makes me physically ill. Why does it have to be like this?

“I don’t mean no harm, I just miss you on my arm, babe. Do you ever wonder what we could’ve been y/n?” He’s taunting me by asking dumb questions, as if I wanted this to happen, as if i’m the cause of all of this. Rafe’s the one that was closed off, not me. Of course, he switches the stories and i’m sure everyone at this damn party thinks I left him heart broken.

“You have a girlfriend, why are you even asking me that?” I was starting to get angry, I felt like he was toying with me.

He’s laughing. Of fucking course, he’s laughing at me. This is all one big fucking joke to him. “Lie to me, lie with me, get your fucking fix. Isn’t that what you always told your friends Rafe?” I was furious, how could he act that way after everything? He’s still a child though, that will never change.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

You were right. I did lie to you, multiple times. About where I was, who I was with, what I was doing. I didn’t want you to know I was such a fuck up. You didn’t deserve the pain of finding out I was lying and cheating and drugging. You did anyways though. Now all my drinks and all my feelings are all fucking mixed.

“Rafe! Come dance with me!” I downed the rest of my drink before throwing the glass down and walking away from the new girl I was seeing. I didn’t care anymore.

I don’t want you, Y/N. I shouldn’t fucking miss you. I don’t deserve to! Seeing you again is such bullshit. If you wouldn’t have shown up here, I wouldn’t have said those things to you. Sometimes you gotta burn some bridges, just to create some distance. You didn’t deserve that, I knew it, but at least now you might learn your lesson and stay away. It’s for the best, right?

I hate that I love her, but I can’t put nobody else above her.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

I wasn’t sure if I had the closure I needed, but after that particular conversation with Rafe I felt a little better. I returned to the party with my head held high and danced with my friends. I hoped he was watching me too since i’m not sure what he was trying to do by joking around at my expense. But maybe if he thinks it didn’t bother me he will know how it fucking feels. 

I learned from my dad that it’s good to have feelings when love and trust is gone. I guess this is moving on. I hate you, I love you.

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

[omgrachwrites]

Tell a Tale of You and Me - Chapter Three

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You knew that  making a bet with Sirius Black was like making a deal with the devil  but you just couldn’t help yourself. You had never been a heavenly  woman.

Warnings: fluff, pining, slight denial of feelings, Sirius being adorable

Words: 2205

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this part, please let me know what you think and let me whether you want to be tagged! I love you guys so much! xxx

Chapter Three

Sirius huffed as he looked for his favourite jumper, it was the one that was lined with fake fur on the inside, and it was the warmest item of clothing the he owned and the weather outside told him that he would need it today. He threw the rest of his clothes that he hadn’t bothered to unpack from his suitcase and he still couldn’t find it. Grumbling swear words beneath his breath, he picked up another that would do nothing to protect himself against the cold weather and he threw it over his head.

The dormitory door opened with a bang, startling Sirius which caused him to get stuck in his own jumper, “Sirius,” a girl’s voice called out, it sounded angry. Sirius fought to free himself, and when he had, he found himself face to face with Lily. Her arms were folded and she was looking at him with narrowed eyes, her eyes were like two orbs of blazing green fire.

“What are you up to? Y/N told me that you were going to be helping her with her Quidditch performance which I’m happy about. But, since when have you done something nice for someone else and not expected anything in return?”

Sirius smirked, his handsome features enhancing as he did so, “oh, come on Lily!” he slung an arm around her shoulder which she immediately pushed off, “she’s my friend, and I know just how important this whole thing is to her. And, besides, I’d be extremely proud if she managed to kick Slytherin’s arse.”

His words did nothing to quell the angry look on Lily’s face, “yeah, well she’s my best friend, so you’re going to be on your best behaviour, otherwise…. I’ll hex you,” she threatened, pulling out her wand to show him that she meant business, “I’ve seen the way that you’ve been looking at her lately.”

Sirius chuckled, he admired the love that Lily had for Y/N but he didn’t know what Lily was talking about, he hadn’t been looking at Y/N any differently, “I’ll be good ma’am,” he gave a lazy salute as he shoved his broomstick beneath his arm, “c’mon. Let’s go,” he smiled and the two of them walked down the stone spiral staircase and into the common room.

Y/N was waiting for him by the portrait hole, her broomstick tucked underneath her arm.

“Have any of you guys seen my jumper, the green one?” he asked, Remus and James shook their heads and shrugged in response. Whereas, Peter smirked and looked over at Y/N.

Sirius’ grey eyes followed suit, it was the first time today that he’d actually looked at her. Her hair was loose against her shoulders; Sirius thought that it looked really pretty. Sirius also noticed that she was wearing a green jumper and she was smirking, “you’re wearing it, aren’t you Y/N?” he grinned and the pretty girl nodded.

“Okay, you caught me,” she said sarcastically, “it’s just so warm and comfy, it was really your fault for leaving it on the back of the armchair,” she sighed, “I suppose that you’ll be wanting it back now?”

“Oh, not at all, it looks so much better on you,” he winked, “and it brings out your eyes so perfectly Y/N,” he moved a strand of hair away from her face, so that he could see her eyes better. He cleared his throat and moved away from her when he realised what he was doing, in front of everyone, “come on, let’s get down to breakfast,” he smiled at her, his eyes crinkling and they both climbed out of the portrait hole.

“Breakfast? Are you mad?” Y/N scoffed with a giggle, we can’t eat and then ride brooms, it wouldn’t be pretty.”

Sirius pouted his belly rumbling as he did so. No breakfast? That was pretty much the worst news that he’d heard all year, “you know I get pretty cranky without my food.”

Y/N smiled at him, her eyes gleaming, “well, you know how much I love breakfast food too, but I’m sure that we can both survive without it.”

Sirius grumbled, feeling annoyed as they walked right past the Great Hall, away from all those amazing smells, “you’re lucky you’re cute, Y/L/N,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“You know Sirius; I really wish that I could say the same thing about you.”

Sirius gasped dramatically as he clutched his heart in mock heart, “you wound me so, pretty one.”

Y/N giggled and a comfortable silence fell over them as they crossed the cold grounds to reach the paddock where they were going to be training. It was like someone had cast a spell, for when they reached the paddock, Y/N almost immediately shied away from him, losing her usual snarky attitude. She glanced at him, before looking ahead into the dark trees that held a multitude of dangerous and magical creatures.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Sirius frowned as he brushed his hand up against hers.

“I’m fine, it’s just,” she hesitated and sighed, “what if I make a fool of myself? What if I can’t do it?”

Sirius chewed his lip; she needed to have more confidence in herself because Sirius had confidence in her, “listen to me, Y/N. I want you to be proud of yourself, because I am, I’m proud of you. I want you to believe that you’re good enough, because you are,” he cleared his throat and ruffled his hair, chuckling nervously as Y/N beamed.

“Thank you Sirius, you’re actually really sweet when no one else is around. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” she giggled, “so where do we start?” she asked and Sirius smiled at her, they had better start with the basics.

“Summon your broom and mount it.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms, an expression of impatience flitted across her face, “that’s beginner’s stuff; I can do that, no problem.”

“Prove it,” he shot back with a smirk on his face, he knew that she couldn’t resist showing off.

“Fine,” she sighed before she summoned her broom and mounted it perfectly.

“Well done,” he smirked, causing Y/N to glare at him before he reached into his robes and pulled a little white ball from his pocket, “I thought that we could enchant this and use it as a snitch. Remus gave it to me; it’s called a ping pong ball. Apparently, muggles use it to play some sort of drinking game,” he smiled, the foreign word rolling off his tongue.

The ball was extremely light weight and he tapped it with his wand, muttering an enchantment to make it hover. It took off through the trees which caused Y/N to hurtle after it, her hair streaming out behind her. Sirius smiled and got on his own broom, hovering above the forest as he watched her.

She wasn’t particularly fast but that was to be expected, she hadn’t played in five years. All she needed to do was to admit how free she felt while she was flying, once she’d admitted that then she’d be able to play Quidditch in front of the whole school.

Y/N zoomed back over with the ping pong ball after a little while, her eyes were narrowed and Sirius could see challenge and determination glistening in them. Sirius gave her some tips that would help boost her confidence before he re enchanted the ball. This time, he made it go towards the castle, making it more of a challenge for Y/N. Y/N climbed up towards the cloudy grey sky until she was just a speck in the distance. The young man chuckled as she swerved and performed an impressive loop to avoid an oncoming turret.

They practised until the early afternoon and when Y/N was too tired to carry on, she beamed as she ran up towards him and she threw her arms around him, knocking the wind out of him. Sirius recovered quickly, chuckling as he lifted her off the grass, spinning her around in a circle.

“Thank you so much,” she giggled, her voice was muffled against the material of his jumper.

“You’re welcome,” he shot her a boyish grin as he set her back down on the ground, “I was thinking, it would be a smart idea if we were study buddies. James is great, but he distracts me too much. I would really like to be within a chance of graduating this year,” he was telling the truth; he really did want to graduate. But, he also wanted to spend more time with Y/N, she had become more fun over the summer, it seemed.

“Fine,” Y/N agreed which surprised Sirius, “I suppose that I do owe you one, don’t I?”

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

The rain battered the library windows, thunder cracked and lightning struck which caused you to jump every now and then. You sighed as you left scarlet ink splotches all over the rough surface of your parchment. You were working on your Defence against the Dark Arts essay; Sirius was late for your study session. You had been fool enough to believe that he actually wanted to get serious. People like him could never be serious; it wasn’t one of their capabilities.

Moments later, the boy in question came walking into the library, his wet shoes squeaking on the stone floor. You glanced up and forced back peals of laughter as you saw that he was dripping wet. Water droplets splashed from the ends of his long hair, he still looked so good. Your eyes followed the drops of water as they slid down his neck and disappeared beneath his collar. The muddy footprints that he left in his wake were enough to give Filch a heart attack.

“I’m really sorry that I’m late, sweets,” he shot you a dimpled smile, “the boys and I were setting up another one of our amazing pranks,” he chuckled and he conjured a bouquet of flowers from the end of his wand, “for you,” he offered them to you.

You looked at the beautiful flowers and then back at him, you supposed that this worked on every other girl but it wasn’t going to work on you. You had more self-respect for yourself, “I have hay fever,” you lied, “and I don’t care that you’re late, as long as you weren’t with a girl, we have a deal remember?” it was true, to you it didn’t make much of a difference whether he was there or not.

Sirius smirked, his grey eyes were soft, “are you sure that you have hay fever?”

You rolled your eyes and all but snatched the flowers from him. At your touch, they transformed into a hoard of multi-coloured butterflies, one of them kissed your nose before they fluttered out of the window. It really was beautiful magic. Sirius threw himself into the chair next to you and smirked proudly.

“I bet you do that with all the girls,” you scoffed and Sirius’ smirk widened as he rested his chin on his hand, gazing at you.

“Now that is just very untrue. And, hey, even if I did do that trick with other girls, it wouldn’t matter because you’re not like other girls, are you?”

You flushed at his words, unsure whether to take it as a compliment or not, “just get down to work; we’re going to study the theory of the patronus charm. Next time, we’ll be doing the practical side of it.”

Sirius smiled and nodded, pulling the parchment towards him, “did you really not care that I was late?” he pouted.

You shook your head, not looking up from your parchment, “nope, it makes no difference to me whether you were here or not.”

“You suck, Y/L/N.”

“You wish,” you looked up at the good looking boy and winked which caused him to flush a bright scarlet colour and he shut up after that. That was the trick with Sirius; you had to beat him at his own game.

There was silence for a good ten minutes, the only sounds were quills scratching on the parchment and birds were singing just outside the window, it was obvious that the skies were clearing up. You felt a poke on your arm and you knew that it was obviously Sirius; you sighed and ignored the annoying Gryffindor next to you. A couple more minutes went by and you felt another poke. Every couple of minutes he poked you, until you couldn’t take it anymore, maybe he didn’t want to study but you did, you wanted to graduate.

“Would you stop poking me? Merlin, you’re so bloody annoying!” Sirius chuckled at your angry reaction.

“I was just going to say, next time we should study in the boathouse. I don’t like being under the beady eye of Madam Pince.”

“We can, if you’re good from here on out,” you giggled.

“I’ll always be good for you, Y/N,” he winked.

You rolled your eyes with a smile as you got back to writing your essay, hoping that he would do the same. However, out of the corner of your eye you could see him looking at you for a moment, you wished that he would look away.

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@approved-by-dentists​ @thefuturelawyer​ @a-miserable-hufflepunk​ @firelordmillie​ @seriouslysiriuss​ @sleep-i-ness​ @play-morezeppelin​ @pregnant-piggy​ @

[dracosearlgreytea]

indelicate marks (10)

indelicate marks: chapter ten - the bargain

A/N: hey kids its me again. here is chapter ten of indelicate marks! i hope you are all enjoying so far and are doing well! - ivy

warnings: language, indications of torture (very slight)

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse @thatoneasrastan @biinspiration

indelicate marks index

You never thought you'd ever say it, but you had missed Draco Malfoy. The last two weeks before Christmas sped by uncomfortably quick. Your last two Occlumency lessons with Draco had gone by uneventful, but within them, you'd got along surprisingly well. The previous rounds of insults thrown back and forth had simmered into a good humoured teasing. In fact, you'd managed to have a few actual conversations with Draco with the hours you spent at the Classroom, between your attempts of Occlumency. It turned out that Draco was better at Astronomy than you - you made it clear that you were more than irritated about that. But, you'd also learnt, that unlike his father, Draco actually wanted to work after graduating. Behind the facade that was Malfoy, you were beginning to see a whole other person. By the time Christmas break had arrived, you were particularly worried about him returning home with the state he was already in. Whilst he didn't reveal much about what was actually happening within the walls of Malfoy Manor, you'd already guessed it was... Bad. If his worsening attitude was anything to go by, whatever happened there was not something you even wanted to imagine. The fear for yourself only occurred to you as you sat on the Hogwarts Express. Staring out the window, surrounded by elated students excited to see their family, you felt out of place. The atmosphere was such a juxtaposition to your mood it was almost ironic. It did, however, give you a sad sense of comfort that Draco must have felt much the same way. At least you were sat alone, and could wallow in your misery. The journey back did not offer you the relief you had sworn it would do. Anxiety itched underneath your skin as you finally arrived back at Hogwarts. Stepping out onto the platform, you instantly swept your surroundings for a tall, platinum blonde, dressed in all black. It was with a pang of nausea, that you realised he was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, you'd managed to spot him sitting further up the table with Parkinson and Zabini during the feast. From where you were sat, you couldn't make out any major injury, or harm. From then, you attempted to put your concern for Draco on the back burner. He was alive, and safe, back at Hogwarts. For now. Ignoring the worry, however, only caused you a great deal of reluctance to go to the usual classroom on the first Thursday back. Throat dry, you stared at the worn wood of the door for a second longer than normal before you finally pushed it open. It was familiar, the feeling of stepping into the room, and it eased you, even if it was the slightest. Yet, the sight of him already sat on his chosen desk by the window only filled you with a conflict of comfort and trepidation. "Y/N," Draco drawled, a crooked grin settled into his features. You turned from locking the door wordlessly, keeping your expression plain. "You survived Christmas, then?" Survived is one way to put it. You offered him a shrug. "You look better than I expected." Your mutter prompted his previous, somewhat easy expression, to falter. It didn't, however, fall. "I'll take it as a compliment." Your next words left you before you could even consider them. "Well, I didn't mean it as one." Being a bitch, much? What the fuck was that, Y/N? Because, there was no teasing edge. There was no hidden warmth. Your voice was cold, poised, a voice you hadn't used toward Draco in a long time. Draco's face fell, this time. Narrowing his eyes, he started to search your figure - but then he was jumping up and towards you with a very, very stern look. Your chest tightened, stumbling away instinctively. "What's wrong with you?" He demanded, grey eyes piercing as you forced a glare at him. Still tired, you noted. A lot more tired than before Christmas, from how sunken his features were, but not ill. "Nothing is wrong with me, Malfoy-" Your growl trailed into nothing. You hadn't seriously used his surname since the conversation you'd had at the Astronomy Tower. Draco's eyes flashed, but you just took a breath, attempting to soften your features. "Draco. I'm fine. You're overreacting." His jaw tightened, gaze still not shifting away from you. Scrutinising. "Don't lie to me." His tone was firm, but not hostile. "You look like you're about to drop dead, you have done all week. And now you're not acting like yourself."   You exhaled through your nose, eyes tired as they settled anywhere that wasn't him. "I'm tired. Long break." Burning, you could feel his glare still on you, but he remained silent. Until, you heard a faint mumble - then, a harsh pressure was grasping at your mind. Giving yourself no time to panic, you threw it back, turning your wide eyes on him. Draco only stared back, looking just as shocked - or offended - and then there was a second surge. You held it off with an ease that surprised both you and Draco, noting the annoyance that flitted over his features. His wand dropped from where it was once grasped and directed towards you, scowling. He had tried to use Legilimency. "Don't you fucking do that again!" You snapped, heart rate picking up now that the threat was gone, panicking. "How the fuck did you keep me out?" Draco ignored your outcry, staring at you with a hard expression. Frustration balled in your chest at his dismissal. "Does it matter? You growled. "You can't just look through my memories whenever you feel like it, Draco!" "I can when you're acting like a twat," He threw back, meeting your eyes, unwavering. "And won't tell me that something has happened when it obviously has." "Did it ever occur to you that I don't want you to know everything?" Your voice strained, you swallowed, throat raw. "Why?" Draco demanded, eyes stormy. "What happened?" You stared at him. Merlin, I forgot how much of dick he can be. "Because I'm a person, Draco, and I don't like everyone knowing my own business?" You raised an eyebrow incredulously, head throbbing. You were too tired, too tired for one of Draco's episodes. "How would you feel if I demanded to know everything you got up to?" Draco's face dropped into a sudden vacancy, the one he would so often wear. "That's different." "Different?" You scoffed, only to let out a sigh, placing a hand on your forehead as you attempted to swallow back the rising insults in your throat. "It's really not. You're just too stubborn to admit you're pissed off that I can keep you out now." Another second of awful, tense silence. You readied yourself for a second attack on your thoughts - but it never came. "Tell me what happened, or we're not meeting again." You would have preferred your expectations. Pulling your hand away from your face, you stared at him, hoping the horror creeping up on you didn't show on your expression. "That's - that's - what?" "You just proved to me you can perform Occlumency." Draco's face was as set as his tone, shrugging. "It's not necessary for us to meet anymore." Your body was a lot colder than before. It started in your chest, ice spreading jolting your heart to stop, then your stomach as it made a heavy drop. You thought things had changed, you thought that maybe, just maybe, Draco had changed. But his face was emotionless. "You-" You couldn't stop your voice from wobbling, and you had to swallow to regain any sense of control over it. "You don't mean that." "How do you know?" Draco only raised an eyebrow, and you dragged your eyes off of him. You couldn't look at that dead expression anymore. "Right. So everything that happened before Christmas was all just bullshit, then?" Tears had begun to gather in the back of your throat, voice breaking as you spoke. "Y/N-" "No, Draco, it's fine. It's all perfectly fucking fine." Your control over your emotions was failing. Merlin, you were just so tired, exhausted, and the one person that could offer you any sense of comfort was doing the complete opposite. "You can give up the act now, if you want." "Stop it." Draco's voice wasn't harsh despite his words, more of a sigh. He took a small step towards you, but you still couldn't look up at him, your mind buzzing. "Can you please just tell me what happened to you over Christmas?" You couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. The sudden soft edge to his tone, the threat of him leaving, your exhaustion. The crushing weight of your burden.   But the tears were coming steady, and you spoke with a broken voice. "I have to take the mark, Draco." He was silent, but you still didn't look up at him, gradually beginning to shake and cry heavier. "In exchange for my parents - being broken out -" Draco was crossing the room and pulling you into a hug before you could even register the fact he had moved. This time, you didn't even flinch, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your head deep into his chest. Draco's hand rested over the back of your head, fingers pulling through your hair. Yet, whilst he wasn't speaking, or making any noise at all, it was better than any words of comfort anyone could have offered you. And, Merlin, had you missed him. What he had said didn't matter. Not now, with his arms so tight around you, letting you sob into a shirt you were pretty sure was worth more than your entire wardrobe. You remained there, for a while, standing in his embrace until the sobs died down - but even then, Draco didn't pull back. "I'm sorry." You mumbled, into the material covering his chest, and his grip tightened a little. "Don't."   You fell quiet again, for a moment. "Lestrange - came on Christmas Eve." You finally began, still muffled. "Made me bargain with her. I take the - the mark. My parents get freed." Draco shifted, pulling back a little to look down at you, hands remaining on your shoulders. You took a moment to stare up at him, only to note his jaw had clenched again. "They already had plans to break them out." He muttered, the grey of his eyes stormy. "Oh, I guessed." Your lips pulled into a bitter smile. "That was more of a... cover up. She had other means of - of - well, persuasion." You couldn't stop the shudder that ran through you, and you knew Draco felt it too. His fingers dug in more than before, prompting your heart to squeeze - with anxiety, or adoration, you weren't sure. It took you a second to look at him again, but you eventually found them searching you, frantic. Rage etched itself into his expression, and you found yourself bringing your hands up to rest them either side of his face. His gaze snapped back up, a lot more gentle as they met yours. "I'm okay." You murmured, but his eyes sunk shut, a deep sigh falling from his lips. "No, you're not." A sad smile pulled at your lips - only for the sudden realisation of how close you were to hit you square in the chest. You could trace every little dip and edge of his features, and a breath caught in your throat as your gaze slipped down to his lips. Still dragged down in the slightest, it took a moment for you to recognise the very overwhelming desire to kiss him. Terrified, you frantically pushed yourself away from him. Draco's eyes snapped back open at the sudden movement. However, he did not question it as you tugged at your sleeves, cursing yourself. Those feelings you'd shoved down in your chest. The ones you'd forbidden, the ones that you chose not to describe. They'd resurfaced so suddenly that it felt as though they were choking you, heart lodged in your throat. You couldn't deny it anymore - that you were very, and overwhelmingly, smitten. With Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy? Draco fucking Malfoy? You have got to be kidding me. "Why weren't you going to tell me?" The question managed to retrieve you from your thoughts, and you flicked a look back at him. He was staring at you, rather intently, hands balled in his pockets. "I-" A faint scowl painted your features, avoiding his eyes again. "Well, I didn't want to make you any more stressed. You're dealing with your own shit." "That's... oddly considerate." Tone teasing, you flashing him a quick look. "I do worry about you, Draco." You lingered your eyes on his for a moment, and they flickered at your admission. "Especially when you don't tell me anything." "Please, don't." His voice hardened, despite the tinge of warmth in the grey of his eyes. "I don't want you involved, and I don't want you to worry about me." "I know." You said, quickly, hoping the bitter pang of rejection in your chest didn't resonate within your expression. "Just - Please keep showing up to these meetings. Even if you don't teach me Occlumency anymore." "You know I didn't mean it." Draco's lips tugged down. Meeting your gaze, he swallowed, before speaking again, much more hesitant. "And I don't act. Around you." You were close to letting out a disbelieving laugh. With that constant deadpan expression, there was no way Draco didn't act around you. But, the way he had spoken, so hushed, but open - it struck a chord within you. You understood what he was trying to say, really. It wasn't bullshit. None of it was bullshit. "How did you manage to get so much better at Occlumency, anyway?" Draco asked, breaking the silence. You hesitated. "Lestrange - she was searching for people to blackmail me with." You mumbled, heart jumping as Draco stiffened. "She didn't find you. I managed to keep her away from finding anything with you in it." Features slipping into an eased position, he nodded, eyes falling away from you. There was a type of tension that continued to linger, after that. You spent the rest of the session, sat together quietly, avoiding any true deep conversation. Draco didn't bring up Christmas again, and you didn't try to encourage him to speak any further about his own trials. You found a type of quiet within Draco that you thought didn't exist. It wasn't deafening, and it wasn't overwhelming. Together, you could ignore what was really happening outside of those four walls. One day, you'd have to face it, you knew that. But, for now, you would enjoy the quiet.

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

Daylight | Edward Cullen x Stark!OC

Chapter 1 | Hard Time Adjusting

"You gotta step into the daylight and let it go"

Summary: Delphina Stark, to be frank, is tired. After the events of the Accords are done and half of the Avengers are now considered fugitives, she moves from bustling New York to live with her mom in Forks, Washington. Wielding a sarcastic attitude and crippling self-deprecating humor, she somehow gets wrapped up in the supernatural world.

Word Count: ~4k

Note: Click here for the Masterlist for this series ♡ || Link for my tag list in my Bio ♡

Cold and rain, something so typical of this place, yet Delphina can’t help but scowl as she stares out the car window. The lush green trees from the forest that surround them zip past them, becoming nothing but blurs in shades of green and brown. Her forehead rests against the cool glass, the window fogging up wherever her warm breath hits. If she was seven years old, she’d excitedly draw little pictures on the window, writing witty things that only she laughed at, but she’s not seven anymore. Instead of bouncing in her seat, talking animatedly about everything to anyone who listens, she just sits in the car, barely moving an inch, as silent as a statue. Quiet music pours from the sterosystem of the car, an acoustic guitar and a smooth male voice easing the silence. Occasionally her mom sings along, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the song. 

Delphina looks over at her, taking in her brown hair that’s been cut to her shoulders. Her eyes trace over her mom’s pale complection, a stark contrast to Delphina’s sunkissed skin. Her brown eyes focus on the road in front of them, a small smile resting on her lips. Her gaze moves back to the window, a small sigh leaving her mouth, creating a large cloud of fog on the glass.

Forks, Washington; easily one of the dreariest places Delphina has had the privilege of visiting. Rain always pours from the sky, threatening to drown the town and sweep it away until it’s nothing more than Atlantis. On the off chance the rain ceases, a thick overcast covers the sky, blocking out any chance of sunlight shining down on the city, bathing everything in it’s warm glow. And on the especially rare days where there is no rain but only clear skies, blue is tinged with grey and the sun is dim, not as bright as the summer days in New York. The town is small, with a population of only around 3,000 people, which means the high school can only have one hundred students, two hundred tops.

“School starts tomorrow. Are you excited?” her mom, Anna asks from the driver’s side of the car. It’s been two hours since the plane hit Seattle, an hour of that time spent in the car. They didn’t exchange anything more than small talk and pleasantries in the airport, Delphina too lost in her own little world, dreaming of grand adventures far from here.

“About as excited as I’ll ever be,” she mutters, taking a sip of her soda. It’s awkward and tense, Delphina not having anything to say and her mom not knowing what to say. It feels like a lifetime since Delphina last visited, wearing two pigtails and bright summer dresses she’d inevitably ruin, only ten and causing a storm. But she doesn’t wear pigtails anymore, nor overly bright summer dresses she’d ruin, but still causes a storm everywhere she goes.

“What classes are you excited for?” she continues to prod, either not realizing how disconnected her daughter is or maybe she did and doesn’t care. 

“The one with the books and the paper. Don’t even get me started on the ones involving pens and pencils. I’m getting giddy just thinking about it,” she says. A sardonic smile forms on Delphina’s face as her eyes continue to trace random shapes in the green-blue sky. Her mom reaches across the dash and smacks her arm lightly, the sound off beat with the music playing. 

“Don’t get smart with me, young lady.”

“Can’t help it, have you met my dad?” Delphina replies. 

“Unfortunately.” her mom replies while rolling her eyes. Delphina simply snorts but says nothing else. 

“You were the one that procreated with him,” she mutters, glancing at her mom from the corner of her eyes. 

“Yeah and now I’ve got to deal with you,” Anna says, a smile creeping onto her lips that are painted a soft pink.

“Lucky you.”

The silence surrounds them for a few moments, the sound of rain pattering against the car piercing through it. Delphina slips her hand into the pocket of her sweatshirt, feeling the smooth surface of the flip phone. She runs her finger over its smooth surface, feeling the indent from glass to plastic. And it’s comforting, knowing Nat is only a phone call away, ready to swoop in if Delphina needs her. But more than that, it’s a piece of her home as she’s being thrown into the wolf den.

“You’re hair’s blonde,” her mom says, glancing at her briefly before returning her gaze to the winding road. Delphina touches the tips of her bleached hair, a light silver that she decided on after the abysmal mess Season 8 of Game of Thrones ended up being. 

“Yeah, thought it’d look better,” Delphina says, dropping the strands of hair, watching as they limply fell, lying past her shoulders. She remembers lounging out in the main room, watching Game of Thrones with the TV on full blast, if only for the stern reprimanding she knew Steve would give her. And whenever he was on Earth, Thor would sit on one of the couches, enthusiastically watching it with her, despite not knowing what was happening. He’d cheer when Delphina did and get mad with her, even if he didn’t know why he should be upset when Daenerys burned King’s Landing. 

The rest of the car ride is spent in silence, the minutes dragging on until they reach the house, her new house. When they stop in the driveway, her mom turns off the car and the two of them get out and begin the slow process of unloading the things Delphina brought onto the plane. Her furniture and boxes already arrived two days prior, courtesy of her dad and expedited shipping. The process of unpacking is tedious and annoying, Delphina growing unreasonably frustrated with each passing moment. Her room here is much smaller than her room at the Compound so it’s like playing Tetris trying to fit her furniture. Delphina never liked Tetris. Eventually, she gives up, hearing the sounds of the front door opening and shutting, the old house shaking from the force, a second later unfamiliar voices filtering through the house. 

Quietly, Delphina walks downstairs, the soft sound of feet touching the carpet the only sound she makes. It sounds like two voices - a man and a woman. Upon reaching the landing of the stairs, she sees  two people standing in the living room with her mom. The girl looks around Delphina’s age, with mousy brown hair and a pale complexion that makes her mom look like a middle aged woman who fell asleep in a tanning bed. The man next to her is much older, probably her dad. He’s wearing a police officer uniform with short brown hair and a mustache that looks like something straight out of an 80s boy band. 

“Delphina! I was just about to call you. Come in come in, I want you to meet some people.” her mom exclaims, the smile on her face a touch too wide. The two people look over at Delphina as she apprehensively walks further into the room until she stands next to her mom, directly across from the girl.  

“This is Charlie Swan and his daughter Bella,” both of them smile at Delphina, the girl nodding when her mom says her name.

“Hey,” Delphina says, feeling the gaze of her mom that oozes with sugary sweetness, hiding daggers in them, silently demanding that Delphina play nice, if only for the next few minutes. 

“Hey,” the girl, Bella, mimics. “You’re going to Fork High, right?”

“Not like there's any other high school,” Delphina says. Her mom digs her elbow into

Delphina’s side, subtle enough their guests don't notice, but firm enough to get her point across. Bella’s expression falls the tiniest bit, glancing at her dad and Delphina’s mom before moving her gaze back to her, and Delphina feels a small amount of guilt set in.

‘Must be Capsicle’s influence finally rubbing off on me.’

“Sorry, yes, I’ll be at Forks,” Delphina says, painting the most charming smile she can force on her lips. And Bella’s smile returns, nodding her head again as she opens her hand, pointing it towards Delphina.

“Me too, I can pick you up tomorrow, if you’d like?” she continued. Delphina opens her mouth to decline, not wanting to interact with anyone more than necessary--.

“She’d love to.” her mom interjects smiling at Delphina, her voice too chirper to be normal. Delphina gifts her with a scathing glare, not enjoying her mom strong-arming her into making friends. “It might be good for you to have some friends your own age.” her mom says in a defensive tone. This elicited an eye roll from Delphina but she didn’t argue and a laugh from Charlie that he quickly covers up with a cough when she looks over at him. 

“Yeah, Bella could introduce you to her friends at school, they’re… interesting.” Charlie says. At the end of his sentence, he starts scratching the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. The tension in the room between Delphina and her mom is palpable, so thick you could taste it.

“That’s a great idea! Now, I do believe Bella was kind enough to bake us some brownies, so let’s go eat dinner and devour those,” her mom exclaims, bustling towards the kitchen area.

Internally, Delphina groans as she drags her feet towards the dining room. She would give her left foot away if it meant she could be back at the Compound, locked away in her dad’s lab as she tinkers with anything and everything. Instead she has to endure as her mom plays host, pretending to not notice the wary looks both Bella and Charlie give her, like she’s a ticking bomb seconds away from exploding if either of them say or do the wrong thing.

                                                   o0o0o0o

After the most awkward dinner ever, Charlie and Bella leave their house, Bella telling Delphina she’ll be back at 7:30 am to pick her up. After helping her mom clean up, placing dishes in the sink and quickly wiping down the table, Delphina rushes up to her room, ready to go to sleep. She gets undressed and throws on some cotton pajamas, running through her skincare routine before eventually settling in bed, scrolling through her IPad mindlessly, doing anything and everything to avoid any headlines that involve the Avengers. A few moments later, her mom knocks on her doorway, standing in the hallway. She’s out of her clothes and in a sleep shirt and old leggings, wet hair dripping on the carpet with a bare face. 

“Goodnight,” she says. 

“Night mom,” Delphina says, not looking up from her screen. 

“Del, I’m glad you’re here.” her mom says after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah, I missed you,” she mutters, briefly meeting her mom’s gaze before her eyes flit back to the bright screen, enraptured by the cat video playing. She sighs and then another moment of silence passes before once again, it’s broken by her mom. 

“Look,  I understand this must be difficult with everything that’s happened in the past month --” her mom begins. Delphina’s mind snaps to the present upon hearing the words, already where the conversation is heading and not liking it.

“I’m gonna make like Kanye, and cut you off. I don’t want to talk about it,” she says, holding up one perfectly manicured hand.

“I’m serious Delphina, I know you were close with all of them, and now most of them are wanted criminals --” her mom pushes through like a charging boar going headfirst, seemingly unbothered by Delphina’s attempt at shutting down the conversation. 

“And I’m serious when I say I don’t want to talk about it.” Her voice grows louder, completely smothering the words her mom said. She presses down on the lock button, her IPad turning off with a quiet click. She haphazardly tosses it to the other side of the bed, bouncing a few times before it settles in its spot. 

“Ignoring it isn’t going to solve anything,” Anna continues to argue, looking at her daughter with wide, pleading eyes. 

“And neither is this conversation,” Delphina says, throwing the plush duvet over herself, cocooning herself in it’s warm embrace, willing her mom and her prying question away.

“I don’t want to start this right now Del. Just know I love you.” and with that, her mom closes the door behind her, her footsteps slowly disappearing. 

Delphina lays motionless for hours, staring at the same spot in the wall, her mind a chaotic storm, sweeping away any sense and logic. Eventually sleep overcomes her, lulling her into it’s warm embrace, the memories fading away until all she dreams about is happier times. 

                                                    o0o0o0o

FORKS HIGH Home of the Spartans.

The wood sign in the grass displaying the high school name, like everything else in this town, is old and worn, the words nearly too faded to read. The school building itself is no exception. The brick building is larger than Delphina anticipated, different than the pictures she painted in her mind. The design is similar to the stereotypical school, the kind in all the kids cartoons. Bella’s orange truck pulls into a parking spot, near a white van with a group of people surrounding it. Her eyes scan over them, watching the three boys rambunctiously talk to each, pushing one another around, feeding into the small town stereotypes Delphina built up. The group turn to face the truck once Bella cuts the engine, the truck spitting loudly before finally shutting down. And Delphina has to force the scowl that’s forming on her face away, unwilling to further the rich girl stereotype, even if she perfectly fits into it most days. 

“Hey, Bella! Who’s that with you?” a blonde guy in a letterman jacket and jeans says to Bella as she opens the car door, Delphina following suit. 

“Hey Mike, this is Delphina, she’s new here,” Bella replied, gesturing towards Delphina’s general direction with her hand. The group immediately turn their attention to Delphina, watching her like scavenger birds about to feast upon a freshly rotted corpse. 

Gross.  

“Delphina eh? Interesting name, I’m Mike,” the guy - Mike - says, walking towards her with his hand outstretched. 

“Don’t touch me,” she says, effortlessly side stepping him and turning towards Bella. “I’ll see you later, I’ve got to get my schedule.”

“Wait aren’t you Tony Stark’s daughter!?” a girl in the group exclaims, her voice grating against Delphina’s eardrums. 

She doesn’t give them a response or any indication she hears the question, quickly walking away from the group. She adjusts her backpack and messes with the bracelet on her wrist, the metal is cold and smooth to the touch, bringing her out of her thoughts momentarily. 

Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot. 

She wills herself to keep moving forward rather than fleeing like she wanted to, especially since everyone’s gaze is on her. She can see in their faces, the tilt of confusion, eyes alight as they recognize the daughter of Iron Man himself. The closer she gets to the steps that lead up to the school, the more people notice her. And despite the airs of arrogance she puts on, Delphina hates people looking at her, especially when they look at her like a tiny new toy to play with.  And for a brief moment, she considers convincing her mom to let her do online school rather than deal with any people. Or maybe she could run off into the woods surrounding the school, never to be seen again as she lives in solitude for the rest of her days.

Eventually she reaches the top of the steps, moving in the school building that brings a much-needed warmth to her chilled body. Her eyes scan the entrance, trying to see past all the people moving around, chatting loudly with one another. More students are inside, near lockers and other spots, seemingly enjoying the cold as much as Delphina did. She darts towards the wooden door to her left, the sign hanging over it reading OFFICE.

Entering the room, it’s relatively small with a few chairs pushed up against the wall. They face towards the counter that the front desk woman is sitting behind. And further behind her is another door that most likely leads to the office of the principal and the assistant principal. The woman behind the desk looks to be in her late 40s, with fine blonde hair, nearly as pale as her skin, that’s cropped short. She wears a pair of stereotypical receptionist glasses set on the bridge of her nose as she eyes Delphina with a look of interest. Thick red lipstick coats her thin, wrinkly lips, some of it smudging onto her face. 

“How can I help you today sweetie?” she asks, lowering her gaze slightly to get a better look. Her eyes burned through Delphina for a few moments, trying to determine if she knows her from somewhere. Delphina moves forward until she stands close enough to the counter that she can touch it and smell the strong floral perfume the woman wears.

“Hi, I’m Delphina Stark. I’m here to pick up my schedule,” she says. With those magical words, Delphina watches the woman’s eyes widen a fraction in surprise before she manages to semi collect herself. But she’s sitting up a bit straighter, her lips stretching into a grin that is a hair wider than a few minutes before.

It looks like the notoriety of her last name has reached everyone in little old Forks. 

“Oh of course! I’ll get that right for you, Ms. Stark,” the woman says, rolling her chair away and opening a filing cabinet. She rummages around for a few moments, before finding her target. She rolls back to where Delphina is waiting and places the sheet of paper on the counter, her long acrylic nails tapping against the countertop. Bright red, a bold color, yet so stereotypical for a secretary. “Here you go, dear.” 

“Thanks,” she mutters, turning to leave the room as soon as possible. Looking down at the paper, she reads her first class of the day, Biology. Glancing down at the map in her hands, Delphina begins following the vague directions, hoping to get there before class starts.

‘God knows I don’t need the attention.’

                                                     o0o0o0o

The bell rings loudly in the hall, piercing through any ambient noises and causes any lingering students to rush off. With a slur of curse words, Delphina rushes towards the door, that if the map is correct, should lead to her Biology class. Her footsteps pound against the glossy linoleum floors as she closes the distance between her and the door. She stops in front of the door, smoothing down her sweater and jeans, adjusting her backpack, and smooths her hair. With a final deep breath, Delphina opens the door, entering the classroom. 

The chattering that previously filled the room ceases once Delphina enters the room. The teacher, Mr. Molina is standing near his desk and currently faces Delphina, some papers in hand along with a pen. He smiles widely at her, in an attempt to ease her anxiety, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he does. Each of her steps in the room is magnified 100x, the students watching her like a hawk. 

“Hello, Delphina I assume?” he asks, meeting her halfway, clicking his pen on.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she says, handing him the paper the front desk lady gave her. He quickly scribbles his signature and hands the paper back to Delphina. He turns towards his desk and grabs a book before turning back to her.

“Alright Delphina Stark, welcome to Biology! Here’s this book for you --” he says as he hands her the Biology textbook. “I’ve got a seat for you, right over there,” he continues, pointing to the only empty seat in the room. 

“Thanks,” she mutters, making her way down the rows of seats towards her new lab partner. 

When her eyes land on him, Delphina nearly forgets how to breathe properly, needing to make an effort to inhale and exhale. He looks perfect, like a sculpture from Ancient Greece with a beauty that could put actual gods to shame. His skin is porcelain pale, nearly glowing in the dingy classroom lighting. His copper hair is messy, like he runs his hands through it a million times a day, framing golden eyes that look like glittering gold. He’s boyish in appearance with a blank expression resting on his perfect face, clearly already bored with the class. An unopened notebook along with a pen is the only possession he seems to have with him. 

 His gaze moves up to Delphina, gold meeting blue for only a second, but it’s enough to electrify her, as he moves his eyes back to his desk, fist clenching at his sides ever so slightly. And despite Delphina’s best interest, her heart stutters for a moment, her mouth getting drier the longer she looks at him.

Like in a trance, she moved towards the table, her eyes moving from her mysterious lab partner, to the back wall, back to him, then back to the wall. She finally arrives at the table, pulling out the chair and sitting in it. The chair scrapes against the floor, pulling attention back to Delphina, but they quickly lose interest as the Mr. Molino starts to speak, droning on about onions or something. 

“Hey,” she says, not expecting a reply, if his sullen expression is anything to go by.

And she doesn’t receive one. The entire class passes by and he manages to not utter a single word to Delphina, doesn’t even breathe in her direction. 

As soon as the bell rings, signifying that class is over, the guy shoots out the classroom, disappearing from view before Delphina could even blink, leaving her mildly disgruntled, confusion clouding her thoughts.

“Hey, New York!” the voice of Mike breaks her out of her thoughts. “Why don’t you let me walk you to class?” 

And as she grabs her books and bag, she groans, doing everything in her power to dodge Mike while inflicting minimal injuries to him, not wanting to be sent home on her first day of school.

                                                    o0o0o0o

Tags: 

@stuckupstucky​ 

[candythemew]

OkLach headcanons?

Now you’re speaking my language! (Oh! And if anyone wants to ask me about headcanons about them with their skekling please send your asks my way! This is just gonna be main canon HC’s)

𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔢𝔩𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤?

✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

     First off, when the Skeksis were young still finding the specific role, niche, and place that they fit into as they asserted their authority over Thra, SkekOk and SkekLach absolutely HATED each other.     SkekLach saw SkekOk as a pathetic weakling who used his silver tongue and quick wit to charm the gelfling and other skeksis to do his bidding, and to buy into his way of thinking. Convincing people to do things they wouldn’t do normally through flattery and shallow promises. She didn’t like his pompous attitude and held more respect for the beings of Thra who put their thoughts into action like her. Ones who thought tactically, but weren’t afraid to take risks. She didn’t see what anyone saw in him. All she saw was just another one of the Emperor’s lapdogs. Spitting lies and weaving tall tales to uplift himself above the rest.

     SkekOk however saw her as a brutish barbarian! Her avarice knowing no bounds as she raged and pillaged all those who stood in her way. Nothing befitting of a Lord of the Crystal. The gelfling worshiped her like a goddess, no doubt like they did the rest of his peers. But he saw the fear in their eyes. If the skeksis were going to rule properly, they must first create a level of relationship and trust between their subjects. Not fear. Although he himself was prone to flights of fancy, he found her ambitions foolish at best, and dangerously compromising to the empire at worst. Be it her insistence on the thrill of a good raid, or trying her hand at taming one of the most fearsome of beasts of Thra; The Arduff. He couldn’t stand it. Her amazonian demeanor made The Scroll-Keeper see her as nothing more than a ruthless brute. But at the same time, there was a tad bit of jealousy there. As many of his peers saw her as incredibly desirable and beautiful. As well as incredibly wealthy… Some had even attempted at winning her hand; only to be quickly shot down and berated by her. If he was being completely honest, he craved the attention that she received. She was always center of attention. At the time, she was the Emperor’s favorite. This jealousy led him to talk poorly of her behind her back. He stayed far from her as he spread rumors about The Collector in hopes to ruin her reputation.      Although ironically over time, as they were forced to work with each other and face various trials with one another they developed a mutual trust after proving themselves to one another. And even saving each other’s lives a few times! If either of them were to be told at this point that they were going to eventually fall for each other, they would have laughed straight in your face! What a foolish thought? Why would I love them?! ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

Their relationship went in an order similar to this:

Hatred ➺ Reluctant Respect ➺ Acquaintances ➺ Friends ➺ Mutual feelings ➺ Lovers ➺ Mates. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰:

     SkekOk tries to give SkekLach little reasons to keep her chin up. He reminds her to take care of herself and gives her little bits of advice to improve her life. Sometimes he’ll ask for her help for small tasks so she has something to do since she dosn’t have the same motivation she used to before her illness took over most aspects of her life.

     SkekLach is the reason why SkekOk isn’t a dog person. One word. ARDUFF!     SkekLach will intentionally follow SkekOk around his library and mess with his things if she feels like he hasn’t given her enough attention.

    SkekOk suffers from narcolepsy, So SkekLach is there for him to make sure he arrives to meetings on time, or carry him to another room if she finds him asleep somewhere.

     Insulting each other is a regular occurrence between them. Although neither of them have any ill intent towards each other when they do it. It’s like a game to them! Light hearted banter that calls back to their youth before they fell in love. Hence why SkekLach isn’t hurt when SkekOk says she was “NEVER BEAUTIFUL!” and then affirms is with a “Nevaaah~” if you pay attention to the scene, SkekLach can be seen laughing alongside him, even though she’s the butt of the joke. They’re both genuinely having fun bickering.     I also personally like to HC that most Skeksis find simple gestures of affection peculiar and strange. Like everything in a skeksis’s life, gestures of affection are showy and grandiose. But OkLach’s more subtle and slow approach confuses their peers.      They can make each other laugh very easily. They know how the other ticks. One of the things that made skekOk fall in love with hre was SkekLach’s ability to make him genuinely laugh his lungs out! His teasing can also cause a similar reaction. SkekOk’s laughs arranging from childish giggling, to incoherent teary eyed laughter!      Although not as strong as she used to be, the other skeksis are still wary of SkekLach due to her past reputation. Also because she’s not afraid to give you a disease if you REALLY tick her off. She acts as sort of a bodygaurd or wall for SkekOk when he shoots his mouth off or gets in trouble. Nobody’s going to get him except through her! ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝔓𝔥𝔶𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩 𝓐𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫:

     Intertwining tails is a very very intimate thing in Skeksis culture. It shows that you genuinely care for your friend/partner and that you enjoy their presence. For a human it would be kind of like a really good hug. But sadly, SkekLach lost a part of her tail long ago. So doing this is near impossible for them to do unless they’re sitting right next to each other or laying down beside one another in bed. Instead, they have adapted to holding hands like the Gelfling do. Be it for comfort, taking a walk together, or just to feel close. Heck! They do it so frequently that sometimes they don’t even realize they’re doing it! It’s become somewhat of an involuntary habit for them.       When they sleep together, they like to cuddle. SkekLach is the big spoon. Sleeping is hard for her, (I personally HC that she has insomnia) but she sleeps better if she has something to hold on to. Thankfully SkekOk likes being held so this arrangement is perfect. It’s just comforting for both of them.

     They don’t “Kiss” often. I think you can imagine why. Pustules leak and it’s NASTY

     The Scroll-Keeper sometimes has the habit of resting his head on top of The Collector’s when he’s tired.      Neither of them have much hair to preen anymore, but sometimes when they’re alone, in their more intimate moments; skekLach will take off her cowl for skekOk to preen her mane. Her hair has a coarse texture. It’s color mostly grey with small streaks of a faded black. Salt and pepper if you will. It’s a small bit of beauty she still retains even in her disgusting, decrepit state. However, it’s only for his eyes as she’s very self-conscious. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖌𝖊~♪ ♫ ♩

     SkekOk and SkekLach are mates. And they have been a mated pair now for the past 400 years. If the Skeksis care to have any sort of marriage/mating ritual, they have done it. You bet your bottom dollar that it was extravagant! A true fairy tale... They can only see each other as life partners and want to make sure that everyone else knows it. Especially SkekLach. Who is known to be dreadfully greedy of her most valuable possessions...

     Much like how many birds mate for life, Skeksis do too. Although being a rather (for lack of a better word) promiscuous race, this is rare. If two develop a strong enough bond, they’ll stick together in an attempt to feel whole. Only sticking with said mate for the rest of their lifetime. However long that may be. Their much more steadfast and patient Mystic counterparts also share this trait.  (By “their” I just mean the race as a whole. Nobody specific.)    Ok and Lach have their own chambers made for themselves. But they also have a shared bedroom that they occasionally sleep in together from time to time.

    SkekOk is a hopeless romantic, and SkekLach couldn’t care less when it comes to flowery poetry. But she admires his passion to his interests. Something she lost desire for in her own life. The Scroll-Keeper will occasionally write her poetry and love letters expressing his feelings to her. Sometimes, in return, she will write him something back. Although riddled with intentional grammar mistakes and poor spelling. Sending him into a flustered angry mess as he corrects her. Only to find something even worse written down as he continues. He’ll read these aloud for all to hear. SkekLach likes to see the reactions he’ll have to her writing. What can she say? He makes her laugh.  ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝓢𝔞𝔡 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔲𝔱: ︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

     SkekLach’s death hit SkekOk harder than anyone will ever know. She was a part of him. She was his closest friend, and the love of his life. His mental health suffered immensely from her loss, and he was never truly able to grieve her properly and move on. Instead, over time he developed an unhealthy coping mechanism of talking to himself for hours on end. He pretended that she never left his side.  “No gelfling trick could have ever gotten the best of me!” She would boast...      Eventually he started to hear her voice in whispers... He could swear he could hear her voice from just beyond the hall... Down the corner in her chambers! Only to find an empty room devoid of anything but dusty old trinkets and bittersweet memories. Other times he would hear the distinct metal clang of her blades against her opponent’s weapons as he would wander the now garthim-filled training rooms. He could hear a younger, much more determined tone! Calculated and precise. Once again to wander in and find nothing but empty training grounds chock full of the dark arthropodan soldiers. But it was the nights that were the hardest. On cold starless nights, laying alone in his decadent yet lonely chambers, he would lie alone for hours on end, eyes closed as he tryed to let the soothing grasp of sleep claim him... In the uttermost difficult moments as he drifted off to sleep, He could swear that he could feel her arms wrapped around his scrawny frame. Tails intertwined as she softly whispered a tired “I love you.” Gently leaning her head on his shoulder, The Scroll-Keeper let out a sigh of relief as he fell sound asleep in the arms of his lover... Only to be greeted with an empty bed as he rose once again the next morning. Truly cementing the fact of how alone and incomplete he truly is. He only wishes for these delusions to stop and yet... He can’t bear to let her go... ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰       Sometimes these hallucinations can get so bad that he’ll fall into manic babbling fits where the voices of not only her, but all sorts of beings from his past will haunt him. After these spasms, he returns to his work or simply passes out due to exhaustion. He apologizes for his random outbursts should someone he cares about see him in this state. If he even remembers they were there at all. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

     Remember when I said that skeksis mate for life? Well that grief an animal or human might face hits just as hard to a stone-hearted, cold blooded skeksis as it would to any man. That sorrow that SkekOk faced upon SkekLach’s sudden death caused him immeasurable psychological and emotional damage. As the Skeksis are naturally selfish beings. Besides the support he would receive from his lifelong friend SkekEkt the Ornamentalist, not many were there to comfort him. If The Scroll-Keeper were able to relive one last day with The Collector, even for just a moment. He would do it in a heartbeat. Savoring every second like it was his last day on Thra. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

     Although she doesn’t admit it to anyone else, disguising her distaste of herself under a veil of irony and self deprecation, SkekLach has issues with loving herself. She constantly reminisces over “The glory days.” The skeksis are a dying race and she knows it. They can’t fool her. And on that topic, she’s the worst of them on that regard. Due to her hideous appearance and the immense emotional and physical pain she endures everyday, sometimes she wonders if SkekOk even loves her at all. Is he only staying with her because he has to? Out of obligation, or does he just pity her? Does he wish she were like the skeksis she was all those centuries ago? She struggles with this fear more than she’d like to admit.

     SkekLach feels extremely insecure about the fact that she can’t intertwine her tail with SkekOk’s due to her traumatic injury that left her with only half of her tail remaining. SkekOk, having a much longer flexible tail will often try to wrap it around her waist if they’re sitting right next to each other. The feeling is bittersweet, but much appreciated. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰      In the main timeline, SkekOk and SkekLach did attempt at having a baby. But since the skeksis are completely infertile in that universe, they yielded no results. They keep a small handmade doll in their shared bedchambers of what could’ve been the skekling that they had wanted so badly. Its not much, but it helped them cope and move on. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰  

𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔫𝓀 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤! - ℭ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔐𝔢𝔴

[mxndoscyarika]

Thoughts on the Pedro boys, and which one is your favorite. 🥰

Oooooooo yes! I have many Thots about them 😏

Din Djarin/Mando:

I LOVE HIMMMMM

soft husband vibes

but also hot boyfriend vibes???

probably touch-starved, which is why he’s so soft with the baby

is my entire mood: tired, constantly having to do everything himself, adopted tiny children on accident and can’t resist their cute faces

the cape+armor+raspy voice combo is very attractive

Javier Peña:

ok let’s just state the obvious: he’s hot af

10/10 would bang

also gives off strong bi vibes??? I know we only see him with women in the show but...something about him just seems like he’d be into men too

Javi speaking spanish is so hot??? His voice gets even deeper and I die every time

snarky boi but also soft when it matters? I love it when people are deliberate with their actions and attitudes (but like not in a manipulative way)

seems vaguely snuggly???? like he won’t blatantly cuddle but anyone who watches carefully will notice that he’s very tactile 👀

Frankie Morales:

probably the most Pedro-looking of the boys

he just,,,looks so cuddly

ALSO bilingual 😍

but probably nicer to spanish-learners than Javi, which is cute

gives off soft boyfriend vibes

12/10 would marry, he seems like a good husband

also gives off bi vibes, and I wouldn’t mind his friends joining in 👀

dad friend + mom friend = parents of the squad

Marcus Pike:

needs a hug

and reassurance that he is loves and appreciated

me in Pedro-form

husband goals???? how has no one married him and stuck around???

I volunteer as tribute

is a soft boyfriend with puppy eyes

is that boyfriend who would grow out his beard for you just because you like it

probably pretty vanilla, but I guess everyone needs a little vanilla once in a while

Jack Daniels/Whiskey:

yeehaw boyfriend!!!!!

look,,,I don’t normally like cowboys

but something about him is so EXTRA that I can’t resist

also husband goals, probably

more on the traditional side regarding what he wants (a nice house, white picket fence, kids, maybe a doggo)

but also highly supportive, because he can’t judge if 

would call you ‘honeydew’ as a term of endearment

Ezra:

oh boy

this boi is EXTRA

they misspelled his name, it’s not Ezra. It’s EXTRA.

sometimes I talk like Shakespeare just to be dramatic, so he is a mood

but he take it to another LEVEL

Shakespeare is QUAKING 

his scruffy face just 🥺

and his lil accent??? so cute

Oberyn Martell:

very hot, very royal, I stan

I, too, am bi af

I want to be sandwiched between him and Ellaria

a cuddler, but like,,,a sexy kind of cuddling

deserved better!!!! wtf!!!!

I’m still scarred from watching that scene

Maxwell Lord:

I feel like he’s either gonna be a Tr*mp-like character, or much softer and morally-grey than we expect

I mean, they’re from the same era-ish, so it would make sense

I hope not tho

@storiesofthefandomlovers may be skewing my perception of Max because her Maxiepoo is so soft and like highkey an asshole but secretly the softest husband

probably gets botox, filler, and highlights to stay looking young or smth

would look better with facial hair, but that would mean Pedro has to dye his beard 😂

Max Phillips:

I don’t know much about him other than he’s a businessman and low-key terrible???

the Walmart version of Max Lord

has the potential to be hot, but he doesn’t really do it for me

vampire tho 👀

Pero Tovar:

probs my least favorite Pedro boy???

I know Pedro addressed the whole white-savior thing in an interview, but,,,something about the movie and characters still rub me the wrong way (and yes, I know, the audience in China probably thought it was cool bc Matt Damon is famous and they love the director)

kinda hot if you’re into the grumpy sidekick type?

I do like how he gets thrown around a lot tho 😂

a mood but also not the kind of mood I like to be

I gotta be in a specific mood for this man

Dave York:

hot but only from certain angles

he’s like a Walmart version of Marcus Pike

kinda mean, not really domestic enough for me

also is a murderer but most of the other boys have also killed lol

had the potential to be hot, but doesn’t take advantage of it

he has an intensity that’s lowkey attractive tho

My favorite: Javi!!! What a cutie 😍

Thanks for sending this in, babe! I had a lot of fun rambling about the boys.

[nazyalenskyism]

The Love of My Life When... (Part 5)

Ao3: The Love of My Life When... Tumblr: The Love of My Life When... Summary: Part 5 of The Love of My Life When… a Zoyalai fic. | The call that neither of them wanted to make reminds them of their favourite moments together. And maybe, just maybe, they begin to realize what they want. A/N: Here’s part 5! It’s been a while since the last chapter, so thank you for keeping up with it! All your comments and feedback are amazing and I love reading them ❤️❤️

Audrey said she saw you out past twelve o'clock Just because you're hurting doesn't mean I'm not If it doesn't go away by the time I turn thirty I made a mistake and I'll tell you I'm sorry "Sorry"

        “Ugh,” Zoya groaned, peeling off her shiny silver heels, collapsing in her favourite armchair. It had been an exhausting night, they had been putting together some of the final details for Tamar and Nadia’s wedding, as it was in two weeks. Of course, that had only been the first half of the night, the second had involved going to the club. Zoya threw a blanket over herself, considering sleeping in the chair, that was how tired she was.

        Before she could nod off however, there was one last thing she had to do. Calling Nikolai after the disaster in the park, seemed like the worst idea she could fathom. She knew Genya was the one who’d orchestrated the whole thing. Setting her and Nikolai up to be partners for the whole wedding weekend. She would have to share her duties with him, walk down the aisle with him at the end of the wedding, be his partner for the ridiculous flashmob Tamar had planned as a surprise to Nadia and the even more ridiculous flashmob Nadia had planned as a surprise to Tamar. Because that totally wasn’t going to end in flames. She didn’t want to do this, but she had to. It wasn’t for her, it was for her friends, and she would do this, even if she would much rather do anything else in the world. At least the drinks at the bar had lowered her inhibitions to the point that she could do this without wanting to cry. That’s how she usually felt when Nikolai was mentioned these days.

        “Come on Koja,” she called, smiling softly at the grey cat who jumped into her lap, curling contentedly under Zoya’s loving stroke of her soft head. Koja had been yet another gift from Nikolai’s birthday week celebrations for her. Zoya let out a small laugh, remembering how excited he’d been to give her the cat, how infectious his joy was. He was amiable with everyone, but he never let anyone see his true goofiness but her. She missed a lot of things that she tried to pretend she didn’t, but most of all she missed him. Some days she missed him so much she felt like it was breaking her from the inside out. She knew she would be fine without him, but as each day passed, she had to wonder, ‘did she want to be without him?’

        No. Her decision was final. She was Zoya Nazyalensky and she would not change her mind, no matter what her traitorous heart said. She would not back away from her duties, especially not after Genya had spammed her with 21 texts and 12 calls all telling her to, “Nazyalensky up and just call Nikolai already.”

        “Well Koja, time to call Nikolai,” she murmured, feeling a pang in her chest as the cat’s ears perked up at the sound of her favourite person’s name. “I can do this.”

                                                   ***

        “Ugh,” Nikolai groaned, collapsing into the hammock in front of his bedroom’s window, overlooking the city and the edges of the bay. He usually slept in his bed, but on nights where he particularly missed the sea, he would sleep in the hammock, the gentle rocking and distant view of the water helping him fall asleep. A soft whine sounded from the floor and Nikolai saw his puppy, Sobachka pouting up at him, clearly wanting to sleep on top of his owner, as usual. He was lucky he was still a puppy, if he were any bigger he would’ve crushed Nikolai in his sleep or tumbled out of his hanging bed. He sighed, knowing he didn’t have it in him to reject the dog’s pleas tonight. He settled back into a comfortable position, Sobachka’s floppy gold ears resting beneath his chin. Nikolai wanted nothing more than to go to sleep after an exhausting day of gathering things for the wedding. Unfortunately, he had one more thing to take care of tonight. He opened his phone, gathering his courage to call before he saw a slew of notifications for his Instagram dms, all from someone named Audrey who he vaguely remembered going to uni with.

        ‘Nikolai! It’s Audrey.’

        ‘I think I saw Zoya at the club tonight’

        ‘She was wearing silver and black’

        ‘You guys aren’t still together, right?’

        ‘Anyways she was there with some guy? look at this pic, it was 1:30 am.’

        Attached to the last message was an image that Nikolai clicked and when he zoomed in, he saw that it was taken at a club, Zoya wearing a slinky silver dress, her hand on the shoulder of a tall guy in a suit, trailing him out of the club. He let out a sigh. He hadn’t thought Zoya would move on from them so quickly, but regardless of that, he knew he ought to be happy that she was happy. No matter what, he wanted that for her. Although… as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t. He wasn’t jealous, there was nothing to be jealous about, she wasn’t his and he wasn’t hers, but he just wanted… he wanted what he could never have. And he was a fool for that.

        Sobachka barked at the ringing of the phone, and Nikolai frowned, had she read his mind? “Hi.”

        “Lantsov, Genya says we need to go over our duties for the wedding.”

        “And you want to do that now? At almost 3 AM? How did you even know if I would be awake?”

        “Oh please, you and David were helping Nadia with something sciencey tonight, and you never sleep well, not without—” she stopped mid sentence, realizing that this time she was the one who’d let something slip.

        He had trouble sleeping, he always had, and for some reason, he’d found that if he played piano before bed, it almost always helped him sleep. He had his own piano room at his place, but Zoya had bought him a keyboard for when he stayed at her’s.

        “How do you know I haven’t played tonight?” he asked, attempting to gloss over the awkward pause.

        “Please, Nadia texted me when she dropped you both off home, and if you played the piano at 3 AM your stupid neighbour would’ve called ME complaining and telling you to shut up.”

        “That’s fair,” he sighed. “So… what were you up to before this? Out at the club?” Oh, he hadn’t meant to blurt that out. Maybe his lack of sleep was affecting him.

        “Tamar actually— wait how did you know that?”

        He hesitated, “I saw you walking out of the club with some guy in a suit.”

        “Some guy?”

        “Some guy,” he confirmed.

        “You IDIOT that was TOLYA.”

        Nikolai let out a dry laugh, “and that’s what I get for paying attention to Audrey.”

        “Audrey? I think she tried to get me to join her pyramid scheme… she only stopped when I pretended to be a part of another one and tried to recruit her.”

        “Intriguing! And what were the results?”

        “She blocked me on all social media, tried to convince Genya that I was going to steal David and that I stole Adrik from her.”

        “Huh.”

        “Yeah.”

        “So about the rehearsal dinner—”

        “Lantsov,” he heard her take in a deep breath, “I know this might be hard for you… but don’t you think it was hard for me too?”

        “You cut things off so easily, I didn't think that it was,” he said slowly. He didn’t know what had brought on Zoya’s forthcoming mood but he wasn’t about to ruin it.

        “It’s not easy for me! Seeing you out with other people… I’m hurting too,” she finished sharply, and Nikolai felt his throat tighten, his careful attitude flying out the window.

        “What if this was a mistake? What if the reason you’re unhappy is because this isn’t what you wanted?”

        After a long pause, Zoya spoke up again, “No. It was the right thing to do. I’m not changing my mind. If, by the time I’m 30, I somehow regret it, I’ll tell you I’m sorry. But it won’t matter then, Nikolai, because you’ll be married and happy and living the life you were supposed to have before you met me.”                               He didn’t have anything to say to that.

        Zoya waited for Nikolai to say something, and was surprised when all he said was, “okay, Zoya. So for the rehearsal dinner, I was thinking I could set up my stuff at 5, and you can start at 6, since I’m driving up first. That leaves us enough time to double check everything before the dinner. Then for the ceremony, you’re walking in with Nadia, we just have to practice walking out, and how we’re setting up the reception. Genya said she’s going to email all that to us in the morning.”

        “That sounds good,” she said.

        “Good. Well, I guess that’s it then. I should—”

        “Wait. Nikolai…” she didn’t know what to say… she just wanted to say something to him, something to let him know how she felt, but she couldn’t find the right words.

        “I know, Zoya,” and she could imagine him smiling softly, despite how she continued to step on his heart. “I know. Goodnight.”

        “Goodnight,” she echoed faintly, waiting until the line clicked on his end to bring the phone back to her face and whisper, “sorry,” a quiet sob shaking her body.

                                                   ***

        Nikolai pulled a hand through his hair, even more confused than before. Everything Zoya said was what he expected her to say— but her behaviour confused him, and if he didn’t know any better he would think that she didn’t want to still be broken up. But if there was anything he could rely on, it was that she was Zoya Nazyalensky, and she wouldn’t change her mind. Still, that didn’t stop him from remembering what it had been like before all this.

        The way she used to put her head on his chest as the hammock rocked. How he used to tell her stories about the sea and the year he’d spent on a boat with Tolya and Tamar before he’d met her. She always wanted to know more about the lives he’d lived, and in return for his stories, she would whisper secrets in his ear, not even trusting the wind as much as she trusted him. Some nights, curled in the hammock, Zoya would point out the constellations, teaching him what her aunt had taught her, while other nights, she would clear out the furniture in her living room and demand, with her hands on her hips, that Nikolai teach her how to dance--she refused to let him excel in something she knew she could best him in. And so he’d taught her. And in return, she’d taught him how to ice skate, the one thing he had never tried, holding his hands the entire time, regardless of how much she’d teased him. He had been terrible, utterly terrible, but as he’d watched Zoya skate perfectly backwards, all while helping him, he had realized that he would never find this again. This was it for him. She was it for him.

        His hopeless heart had only gotten ensnared worse when he’d made her a traditional dish he’d learned about in Russia, the only thing he knew how to cook well, and she had looked at him with so much ferocity, wanting to know how to cook it for herself. She was a worse cook than him, and had never quite managed it, despite his teachings. So she would call him whenever she was stressed and wanted her comfort food, although she never said that, he could always tell. She’d come to rely on him, trust him, in the same way he had relied on her, trusted her. He’d given her his heart-- but in the end he had been mistaken. His heart was closely guarded and despite Zoya’s warnings not to, he’d given himself to her completely. The pain he felt now was his own fault, and he didn’t know if it would ever truly go away.

                                                       ***

        Zoya couldn’t sleep either, and no piano melody would help bring her closer to it either. On the nights she could sleep, she found herself in the same situation, she dreamed of him, and only him. The press of his fingers against her arms when he steadied her after she’d drank too much. Warm kisses to her head when she was sick and couldn’t leave the bed, or protest his soft actions. His calloused fingers brushing back her hair in the moments after she shared her frustrations. The distance he stumbled back— as if he’d been struck in the chest when she had said she couldn’t do it anymore. The distance from his apartment, where she’d stayed each night to her own, cold and alone on the other side of town. The hurt in his eyes when she’d twisted the knife further, saying that she would have never been able to care for him— love him in the way he did for her. The pain that passed over his otherwise neutral features when he’d realized that she was yet another person who he’d let himself love, only for his love to never be reciprocated. The boy he’d shown her, who collected scars he didn’t deserve, retreated back into a man who had a collection of scars whose stories she would spend a lifetime forgetting. Whose hands she would spend a lifetime trying to forget. Whose love she would spend forever mourning. For all that she’d said to Nikolai to make him forget her, she was beginning to realize that if Nikolai would have her back, she would gladly go.

        “Sorry,” she repeated softly, even though he couldn’t hear her, she vowed that she would make things right, even if he didn’t want her again, she knew she owed him that much. She was Zoya Nazyalensky and she wanted to change her mind, to listen to what her traitorous heart said, but only if that’s what he wanted too.