#reminds me of the time i dreamt of this boy who was a year older than me and rode a motorcycle

[wishmemel]

i wanna be married so bad. i want someone to come home to. i want someone to sleep next to. i want someone who i can shower in love. i just want someone to give all of my affection to :/

[asktheritochampion]

Psst, Rahlin. Teba said Ravioli has a new diary with some pretty endeering entrys. Hit us up on the sly?

[Text]

Sometimes it feels as though each of the other Champions has settled into their new lives in this futuristic world so much more effectively than I, and it leaves me feeling…inadequate. I’m unsure why I am having such a difficult time assimilating. I should surely feel thankful for this miracle second chance at life; however I often find myself so overcome with grief and sorrow that I cannot lift myself from my hammock. Isn’t that pathetic? I am supposed to be the Rito Champion. The people of this age look up to me. I must make a good impression, and lazing around in bed simply isn’t good enough.

It seems terribly childish to admit; but I miss my home. I miss my possessions. I miss the warriors I grew up with and trained besides. Perhaps I never had the type of relationships most people would consider friendships, however there is comfort in familiarity. I simply cannot stop thinking of all the people I have left behind. Nothing but dust in the ground now.

Did anybody mourn me as I am mourning them? I do not have a grave. I suppose they never recovered my body.

Things are not all doom and gloom despite my pitiful mood, however.

I have been staying temporarily with the newly appointed Village Elder and his family until a space opens up in the Village for me to reclaim my own roost. Its strange, but I feel like I have met him before, in the strange tangle of my memories of the Calamity. He is a fine warrior with impressive skills, I suspect he could almost match me in archery actually. Almost.

The family behaves as if I have lived with them all my life. I expected to feel frustrated being in such close quarters with such social people; however I am finding myself increasingly endeared by them. The wife, Saki, insists that I join them for meals every day, and admittedly it has been useful in forcing me out of my periods of wallowing. Her cooking is pleasant. The child, Tulin, seems to have some control over the wind such as I do. Even if he is just a boy, it has been fascinating to share conversation with him about it, I look forward to taking him on as an apprentice and teach him everything I know.

Perhaps things will be okay once I’ve had a little more time to adjust.

--

Yesterday I visited Zora’s Domain. It certainly has changed in the past hundred years – however perhaps not as much as Rito Village has. It was pleasant to see some familiar faces, even if many of them are now far older than they were during the Calamity.

Mipha requested my aid in fighting a Lynel on Ploymus Mountain. I suspect she only asked because she has some wayward concern for my wellbeing being the only one of us revived without a living family, considering the fact that she is perfectly capable of tackling such a foe alone. Regardless, she did invite me to join her for dinner afterwards, which is always a pleasant affair. I do enjoy Zora cuisine, and Mipha had many interesting stories to share. Her tiny brother is enormous now, it’s bizarre to see.

To avoid flying in the dark I stayed the night, and the two of us stayed up late consuming an unhealthy amount of sugary foods and taking turns reading aloud from a frankly hysterical Zora romance novel that seemed as if it had been written by someone with no concept of anatomy, and laughing until we felt unwell. It was…nice. It reminded me of old times.

Last night was the first time since awaking that I havn’t dreamt of Windblight.

Perhaps I could visit the Domain more often. In case they need my aid again.

--

There was a ceremony at the Castle this evening to honour the Champions of old by the sides of the ‘Sages’ who fought in the second coming of the Calamity. I’ve never enjoyed the pomp and grandeur of these types of events.

Admittedly I had intended not to attend initially. My reasoning to Teba had been that I was simply too busy for such unnecessary affairs, however in truth I…feel like a failure. How mortifying it seems to have failed my one task in aiding to stop the Calamity, and for a ten year old child to accomplish everything that I couldn’t a hundred years on.

Tulin is a good kid, I feel nothing but pride for his achievements. I simply feel such a deep sense of shame over it all. The very idea of standing in front of the entirety of Hyrule, all of the people I let down – it left me feeling sick to my stomach.

Teba had insisted I attend, if not to join in with the celebration then at least to support Tulin, and eventually I gave in. I’m glad I did.

Pointless as the ceremony was, it was pleasant to see the other Champions again. I do not visit them as often as I should; though I have been making an effort to send more missives. Furthermore, while it was an uncomfortable experience as expected; Tulin did appear to have a wonderful time of it, and it was pleasant to see the boy receive the praise he deserves for all of his hard work.

The Princess invited us to stay the night at the castle. Well, I suppose she is the Queen, now, though it seems strange to think of her as such. I spent most of the evening training in the royal gardens with Urbosa, and it was refreshing to be challenged again.

Before retiring to bed, I passed by Zelda in the royal library and we shared a nice discussion about the works of Frequius Edgal. I always enjoy hearing her enthuse about books; she used to be so crippled by stress before the Calamity and it seems as though now we are finally seeing her true face. She has invited me back to join her in a few weeks’ time to discuss another few tomes in a sort of book club; apparently Daruk shall be there too – though I never took the pebble brain for much of a reader.

--

My archery skills are still far superior to those of anyone in the Village, even a hundred years on it seems. While Teba’s skills are impressive, the old man is still too slow to quite match my unbeatable heights. Yet, I still yearn to become better.

Today I paid Daruk a visit in Goron City. The heat there does not agree with me; even when covering every feather on my body in bottles and bottles of fire proof elixir. However it was enjoyable to spend a day training in a different environment.

Daruk challenged me to some Goron tradition called a ‘gut check challenge’, which thankfully did not involve eating rocks, but rather climbing up a sheer cliff face on a time limit. Rito aren’t really built to climb, however I have never been one to back down from a challenge.

I failed miserably. Slipped and fell about seven times, definitely bruised a few ribs and twisted my ankle, and by the time I made it to the top I had passed the time limit by a number of hours. I was practically the laughing stock of half of Goron City.

Perhaps it should have been a humiliating experience, however instead I found it a delightful thrill. Something about Daruk’s positive attitude about everything makes it rather difficult to feel ashamed, and despite my utter failure to excel at his challenge, he did nothing but rejoice over my making it to the top in the end after so many attempts, commending my determination and bravery. I left feeling almost rather proud of myself – which is utterly ridiculous; I don’t know how he did that.

I intend to practise climbing over the next few weeks in the privacy of the Hebra mountains and then come back to give his challenge another try. The look on his face when I show up and beat every Goron in the City’s time with my superior skills shall be wonderful.

I havn’t had a panic attack in two weeks now. I think the medicine Saki gave me is helping. I’ve been eating more regularly again too.

--

Link came to visit the Village again this week to assist with setting up for the winter festival, I think Teba requested it of him. The helpful little brat can never turn down the opportunity to help someone.

I can’t seem to stop myself from spitting insults into the boys face at every opportunity I get. At first it had been from a place of indignation and frustration over his silence and refusal to recognise my skills; however as we’ve gotten to know one another I no longer hold that same sense of anger towards him. If anything, I almost rather enjoy his company these days. The knight is an excellent listener, and a worthy challenger to battle. I don’t know why I feel so compelled to treat him with malice.

There is a possibility I am perhaps experiencing something akin to a schoolboy crush. How mortifying. Perhaps my frustration is coming from a place of knowing the obnoxious little hero is in the eye of both the Princess of Zora’s Domain and the new Queen of Hyrule. Inevitably, he’ll end up a king some way or another, and that thought pains me. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about the ridiculous blond runt. I hate that there is no conceivable timeline in which he even graces a single thought in his oversized head on me; a Rito with no political standing whatsoever who failed at his one task in the Calamity.

Perhaps I bully him because I’m so desperate for him to believe I am still worthy of his attention. It seems so utterly below me.

I am attempting to be better about this. Tonight, I refrained from calling him a disgusting glutton when he had a third portion of Saki’s cooking. I informed him that his hair wasn’t a complete mess while we were preparing for bed. I even offered him a space in my hammock when he complained of the chill of the night air. None of these things come very naturally to me, but I am trying. The fool doesn’t deserve to be insulted due to my own insecurities.

Tomorrow morning I am to join him in an activity he called ‘shield surfing’. For tonight, I am allowing him to sleep beneath my wing. He is very pretty when he sleeps. Perhaps with some practise, I’ll be able to tell him that someday.

--

I got into another fight with Teba.

Sometimes I think I miss the Calamity, but I suspect what I really miss is the person I was back then. I tell myself that I was brave, flawless, near unstoppable. Retrospectively; perhaps I was merely naive and what I really miss is truly believing that I could do anything.

I was displaying my impeccable flight and shooting skills for the fledglings the other day and messed up my ascent. I doubt anyone even noticed in truth, I managed to catch myself after being thrown by the updrafts pull and the fledglings seemed to think it was part of the performance. Still, it mortified me that I could make such a pathetic mistake even after all of these years. Sometimes it feels as though no matter how much I refine my skills, I shall simply never be good enough.

As it happens, Teba had been watching from near by and later on attempted to commend me on my flight skills, even going as far as saying he was proud of me for everything I have managed to accomplish at such a young age. Perhaps I was still frustrated with myself because I took his compliment with great offence and practically tore the man a new one, spitting insults at him for daring to patronise me.

After several minutes of a back and forth lashing with the man, I began to feel that familiar tug of panic in my chest again and retreated to Medoh. This time I stayed with her for days. Something about her silent company seems to soothe my frantic mind, and I appreciate her lack of judgement over my episodes of patheticness.

The funny thing is, deep down I know the Elder’s compliments had come from a genuine place, and I believe a part of me so desperately wanted to believe them. I don’t believe anyone has ever told me that they were proud of me before, and patronising as it might seem, a childish part of me deep inside yearns for it. My lashing out at him comes from my own insecurities; I simply feel as though I don’t deserve his pride. I havn’t earned it yet. I still need to be better.

When I returned to the Village, Teba apologised for patronising me, and I apologised for calling him a worthless, pathetic failure of a warrior with two left feet and a fledgling level of skill with a bow. It seemed a mutual affair of forgiveness and moving on, however I have continued to feel guilt over my outburst.

For all my vocabulary exceeds most in size; sometimes I find words…difficult. I made him a new quiver for his arrows since his old one was a tattered mess, and left it with his things. I hope that is enough to convey my remorse.

These people are the closest thing I have to family or friends in the Village in this day and age. Why can’t I stop pushing people away the moment they get too close?

[candiedspit]

Praise

Often, I yearned for my mother; I imagined her sitting at the table with Crystal, my younger sister and they mourn and drink sprites of tea, complaining, trading gossips to further bury my absence. Crystal with her damaged hair and sad eyes. Once, she came home with a black eye. A boy friend.

A mistake, she said over and over again.

He didn’t mean it, she said. He lost control.

I didn’t understand what she meant, not until I had a gun in my hand and not until I blasted the gun, used my life force to expand the bullet, not until I aimed at someone’s head and let out a scream as the impact happened, a furious crash of red. Not until someone left earth on my own accord. It was a moment of white, as though I was being born again. I left myself and my hands went numb and when I returned to the hot moss and clear skies and great sweeping vines and a tap on my back. The loose fabric of my clothes, I realized I was trembling from the effort, exhilarated and exhausted, almost weeping. Russian tapped me again, telling me we had to leave, to come on. I blindly followed him, leaving behind the hole where someone had been a moment before, thinking and seeing and breathing.

I had taken a life. I had lost control. As Crystal said.

The feeling stained me for days; I lost sleep. Russian told me it happens the first time.

You stay in that moment, he said, as we ate dried biscuits and drank black tea.

Your life is split into two parts, the before and the afterwards. This is your new life now, he continued. You are a person who takes things and you don’t mean to be but you can be cruel, selfish. You destroy things. Welcome to the world.

I ruminated in this as we saddled up and set our in foot cross the vines and grass troughs and blossoms of dirt. The world was a beautiful, open place. The heat sunk into my skin like venom. My head was shaved. Russian was my friend. A few years older than I was, he was the first person to speak to me. The other men, beautiful and brooding men shunned me. I arrived with bright skin and good teeth, I was a kid, eighteen years old. Still dreaming of schoolbooks and girls. I knew nothing of what was to come. Had no fucking idea. Russia spoke in a metallic accent and stood over me and told me the gist.

We are here to kill, he said. And we are here to cleanse. This is your mission. You might not get the rest of your life. Keep careful. Keep awake.

I followed his grace and made my way through months of grime and brutality and harsh sunlight. Sometimes, Russian and I stayed awake reading poems. He spoke in a low voice and recited the news. I praised these words. I ate them. And sometimes, Russian would rub my head and call my kitten. I would bow to his touch. I needed to be reminded of my realness. I accepted his aggressive, hushed love. I would climb on his back and laugh into the treeline and pull on his ears. The other men called me a pansy and told me to go back home.

You’re not fit to fight, one man said.

I had been there for seven months when the fight came about. The enemy surprised us, a sudden explosion. Men, dead. Blood shed. I was all reaction and feel and spider senses. I acted without thinking, impulse and forget the strategies. I shot and kept shooting. The sun about us bleeding out, witness to the spectacle. Russian was somewhere behind me. I could hear his grunts. I knew which grunts were his. I knew his vocal patterns. My man. My big man.

As I shot, I thought of the nation. The nation had a cup of coffee and shook off sleep and worked in decimals and droned and dreamt of atomic bombs and feared death. I shot someone ten yards off gritting my teeth and heart on fire and sweat in my eyes and the nation was asleep.

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt.2

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13

a/n some kid kept begging for a pt 2 to me so I did, and still credits are all given to the real author ''every day'' by David Levithan

TW: drugs, profanities

Day 5995

I wake up thinking of yesterday. The joy is in remembering; the pain is in knowing it was yesterday.

I am not there. I am not in Minji’s bed, not in Minji’s body.

Today I am Huening Bahiyyih. I have slept through the alarm, and her mother is mad.

“Get up!” she yells, shaking my new body. “You have twenty minutes, and then Kai leaves!”

“Okay, Mom,” I groan.

“Mom! If your mother was here, I can’t imagine what she’d say!”

I quickly access Bahiyyih’s mind. Grandmother, then. Mom’s already left for work.

As I stand in the shower, trying to remind

myself I have to make it a quick one, I lose myself for a minute in thoughts of Hanni. I’m sure I dreamt of her. I wonder: If I started dreaming when I was in Minji’s body, did she continue the dream? Will she wake up thinking sweetly of her?

Or is that just another kind of dream on my part?

“Bahiyyih! Come on!”

I get out of the shower, dry off, and get dressed quickly. Bahiyyih is not, I can tell, a particularly popular girl. The few photos of friends she has around seem halfhearted, and her clothing choices are more like a sixteen-year-olds than a nineteen-year-old’s.

I head into the kitchen and the grandmother glares at me.

“Don’t forget your clarinet,” she warns.

“I won’t,” I mumble.

There’s a boy at the table giving me an evil look. Bahiyyih’s brother, I assume—and then confirm it. Kai. A senior. My ride to school.

I have gotten very used to the fact that most mornings in most homes are exactly the same. Stumbling out of the bed. Stumbling into the shower. Mumbling over the breakfast table. Or, if the parents are still asleep, the tiptoe out of the house. The only way to keep it interesting is to look for the variations.

This morning’s variation comes care of Kai, who lights up a joint the minute we get into the car. I’m assuming this is part of his morning routine, so I make sure Bahiyyih doesn’t seem as surprised as I am.

Still, Kai hazards a “Don’t say a word” about three minutes into the ride. I stare out the window. Two minutes later, he says, “Look, I don’t need your judgment, okay?” The joint is done by then; it doesn’t make him any mellower.

I prefer to be an only child. In the long term, I can see how siblings could be helpful in life—someone to share family secrets with, someone of your own generation who knows if your memories are right or not, someone who sees you at eight and eighteen and forty-eight all at once, and doesn’t mind. I understand that. But in the short term, siblings are at best a hassle and at worst a terror.

Most of the abuse I have suffered in my admittedly unusual life has come from brothers and sisters, with older brothers and older sisters being, by and large, the worst offenders. At first I was naïve, and assumed that brothers and sisters were natural allies, instant companions.

And sometimes the context would allow this to happen—if we were on a family trip, for example, or if it was a lazy Sunday where teaming up with me was my sibling’s only form of entertainment. But on ordinary days, the rule is competition, not collaboration. There are times when I wonder whether brothers and sisters are, in fact, the ones who sense that something is off with whatever person I’m inhabiting, and move to take advantage.

When I was eight, an older sister told me we were going to run away together—then abandoned the “together” part when we got to the train station, leaving me to wander there for hours, too scared to ask for help—scared that she would find out and berate me for ending our game. As a boy, I’ve had brothers—both older and younger—wrestle me, hit me, kick me, bite me, shove me, and call me more names than I could ever catalog.

The best I can hope for is a quiet sibling. At first I have Kai pegged as one of those. In the car, it appears I am wrong. But then, once we get out at school, it appears I am right again. With other kids around, he retreats into invisibility, keeping his head down as he makes his way inside, leaving me completely behind. No goodbye, no have-a-nice-day. Just a quick glance to see that my door is closed before he locks the car.

“What are you looking at?” a voice asks from over my left shoulder as I watch him enter school alone.

I turn around and do some serious accessing.

Eunchae. Best friend since fourth grade.

“Just my brother.”

“Why? He’s such a waste of space.”

Here’s the strange thing: I am fine thinking the same words myself, but hearing them come out of Eunchae’s mouth makes me feel defensive.

“Come on,” I say.

“Come on? Are you kidding me?”

Now I think: She knows something I don’t. I decide to keep my mouth shut.

She seems relieved to change the subject.

“What did you do last night?” she asks.

Flashes of Hanni rise in my mind’s eye. I try to tamp them down, but they’re not that easy to contain. Once you experience enormity, it lingers everywhere you look, and wants to be every word you say.

“Not much,” I push on, not bothering to access Hanni. This answer always works, no matter what the question. “You?”

“You didn’t get my text?”

I mumble something about my phone dying.

“That explains why you haven’t asked me yet! Guess what. Kyujin IM’d me! We chatted for, like, almost an hour.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, isn’t it?” Eunchae sighs contentedly. “After all this time. I didn’t even know she knew my screen name. You didn’t tell her, did you?”

More accessing. This is the kind of question that can really trip a person up. Maybe not right away. But in the future. If Bahiyyih claims she wasn’t the one who told Kyujin, and Eunchae finds out she was, it could throw their friendship off balance. Or if Bahiyyij claims she was, and Eunchae finds out she wasn’t.

Kyujin is Kyujin Jang, a junior who Eunchae's had a crush on for at least three weeks. Bahiyyih doesn’t know her well, and I can’t find a memory of giving a screen name to her. I think it’s safe.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t.”

“Well, I guess she really had to work hard to find it,” she says. (Or, I think, she just saw it on your Facebook profile.)

I immediately feel guilty for my snarky thoughts. This is the hard part about having best friends that I feel no attachment to—I don’t give them any benefit of the doubt. And being best friends is always about the benefit of the doubt.

Eunchae is very excited about Kyujin, so I pretend to be very excited for her. It’s only after we separate for homeroom that I feel an emotion kicking at me, one I thought I had under control: jealousy. Although I am not articulating it to myself in so many words, I am feeling jealous that Eunchae can have Kyujin while I can never have Hanni.

Ridiculous, I chastise myself. You are being ridiculous.

When you live as I do, you cannot indulge in jealousy. If you do, it will rip you apart.

Third period is band class. I tell the teacher that I left my clarinet at home, even though it’s in my locker. Bahiyyih gets marked down and has to take the class as a study hall, but I don’t care.

I don’t know how to play the clarinet.

Word about Eunchae and Kyujin travels fast. All of our friends are talking about it, and mostly they’re pleased. I can’t tell, though, whether they’re pleased because it’s a perfect match or because now Eunchae will shut up about it.

When I see Kyujin at lunchtime, I am unsurprised by how unremarkable she is. People are rarely as attractive in reality as they are in the eyes of the people who are in love with them. Which is, I suppose, as it should be. It’s almost heartening to think that the attachment you have can define your perception as much as any other influence.

Kyujin comes over at lunch to say hi, but she doesn’t stay to eat with us, even though we make room for her at our table. Eunchae doesn’t seem to notice this; she’s just giddy that she’s come by, that she didn’t dream the whole IM exchange, that chatting has escalated into speaking … and who knows what will happen next? As I suspected, Bahiyyih does not move in a fast crowd. These girls are thinking of kissing, not sex. The lips are the gates of their desire.

I want to run away again, to skip the second half of the day.

But it wouldn’t be right, without her.

It feels like I am wasting time. I mean, that’s always the case. My life doesn’t add up to anything.

Except, for an afternoon, it did.

Yesterday is another world. I want to go back there.

Early sixth period, right after lunch, my brother is called down to the principal’s office.

At first I think I may have heard it wrong. But then I see other people in class looking at me, including Eunchae, who has pity in her eyes. So I must have heard it right.

I am not alarmed. I figure if it was something really bad, they would have called us both. Nobody in my family has died. Our house hasn’t burned down. It’s Kai’s business, not mine.

Eunchae sends me a note. What happened?

I send a shrug in her direction. How am I supposed to know?

I just hope I haven’t lost my ride home.

Sixth period ends. I gather my books and head to English class. The book is Beowulf, so I’m completely prepared. I’ve done this unit plenty of times.

I’m about ten steps away from the classroom when someone grabs me.

I turn, and there’s Kai.

Kai, bleeding.

“Shh,” he says. “Just come with me.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“Just shh, okay?”

He’s looking around like he’s being chased. I decide to go along. After all, this is more exciting than Beowulf.

We get to a supply closet. He motions me in.

“Are you kidding me?” I say.

“Bahiyyih.”

There’s no arguing. I follow him in. I find the light switch easily.

He’s breathing hard. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything.

“Tell me what happened,” I say.

“I think I might be in trouble.”

“Duh. I heard you called to the principal’s office. Why aren’t you down there?”

“I was down there. I mean, before the announcement. But then I … left.”

“You bolted from the principal’s office?”

“Yeah. Well, the waiting room. They went to check my locker. I’m sure of it.”

The blood is coming from a cut above his eye.

“Who hit you?” I ask.

“It doesn’t matter. Just shut up and listen to me, okay?”

“I’m listening, but you’re not saying anything!”

I don’t think Bahiyyih usually talks back to her older brother. But I don’t care. He isn’t really paying attention to me, anyway.

“They’re going to call home, okay? I need you to back me up.” He hands me his keys. “Just go home after school and see what the situation is. I’ll call you.”

Luckily, I know how to drive.

When I don’t argue, he takes it as acquiescence.

“Thanks,” he tells me.

“Are you going to the principal’s office now?” I ask him.

He leaves without an answer.

Eunchae has the news by the end of the day. Whether it’s the truth doesn’t really matter. It’s the news that’s going around, and she’s eager to report it to me.

“Your brother and Josh Wolf got into a fight out by the field, during lunch. They’re saying it had to do with drugs, and that your brother is a dealer or something. I mean, I knew he was into pot and everything, but I had no idea he dealt. He and Josh were dragged down to the principal’s office, but Kai decided to run. Can you believe it? They were paging him to come back. But I don’t think he did.”

“Who’d you hear it from?” I ask. She’s giddy with excitement.

“From Kyujin! She wasn’t out there, but some of the guys she hangs out with saw the fight and everything.”

I see now that the fact that Kyujin told her is the bigger news here. She’s not so selfish that she wants me to congratulate her, not with my brother in trouble. But it’s clear what her priority is.

“I’ve got to drive home,” I say.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Eunchae asks. “I don’t want you to have to walk in there alone.”

For a second, I’m tempted. But then I imagine her giving Kyujin the blow-by-blow account of what went down, and even if that’s not a fair assumption to make, it’s enough to make me realize I don’t want her there.

“It’s okay,” I say. “If anything, this is really going to make me look like the good daughter.”

Eunchae laughs, but more out of support than humor.

“Tell Kyujin I say hi,” I say playfully as I close my locker.

She laughs again. This time, out of happiness.

“Where is she?”

I haven’t even stepped through the kitchen door and the interrogation begins.

Bahiyyih’s mother, father, and grandmother are all there, and I don’t need to access her mind to know this is an unusual occurrence at three in the afternoon.

“I have no idea,” I say. I’m glad he didn’t tell me; this way, I don’t have to lie.

“What do you mean, you have no idea?” my father asks. He’s the lead inquisitor in this family.

“I mean, I have no idea. He gave me the keys to the car, but he wouldn’t tell me what was going on.”

“And you let him walk away?”

“I didn’t see any police chasing after him,” I say. Then I wonder if there are, in fact, police chasing after him.

My grandmother snorts in disgust.

“You always take his side,” my father intones. “But not this time. This time you are going to tell us everything.”

He doesn’t realize he’s just helped me. Now I know that Bahiyyih always takes Kai’s side. So my instinct is correct.

“You probably know more than I do,” I say.

“Why would your brother and Josh Wolf have a fight?” my mother asks, genuinely bewildered. “They’re such good friends!”

My mental image of Josh Wolf is of a ten-year-old, leading me to believe that at one point, my brother probably was good friends with Josh Wolf. But not anymore.

“Sit down,” my father commands, pointing to a kitchen chair.

I sit down.

“Now … where is he?”

“I genuinely don’t know.”

“She’s telling the truth,” my mother says. “I can tell when she’s lying.”

Even though I have way too many control issues to do drugs myself, I am starting to get a sense of why Kai likes to get stoned.

“Well, let me ask this, then,” my father continues. “Is your brother a drug dealer?”

This is a very good question. My instinct is no. But a lot depends on what happened on the field with Josh Wolf.

So I don’t answer. I just stare.

“Josh Wolf says the drugs in his jacket were sold to him by your brother,” my father prods. “Are you saying they weren’t?”

“Did they find any drugs on Kai?” I ask.

“No,” my mother answers.

“And in his locker? Didn’t they search his locker?”

My mother shakes her head.

“And in his room? Did you find any in his room?”

My mother actually looks surprised.

“I know you looked in his room,” I say.

“We haven’t found anything,” my father answers. “Yet. And we also need to take a look in that car. So if you will please give me the keys …”

I am hoping that Kai was smart enough to clear out the car. Either way, it’s not up to me. I hand over the keys.

Unbelievably, they’ve searched my room, too.

“I’m sorry,” my mother says from the hallway, tears in her eyes now. “He thought your brother might have hidden the drugs in here. Without you knowing.”

“It’s fine,” I say, more to get her out of the room than anything else. “I’m just going to clean up now.”

But I’m not quick enough. My phone rings. I hold it so my mom can’t see Kai’s name on the display.

“Hi, Eunchae,” I say.

Kai is at least smart enough to keep his voice down so it won’t be overheard.

“Are they mad?” he whispers.

I want to laugh. “What do you think?”

“That bad?”

“They’ve ransacked his room, but they haven’t found anything. They’re looking in his car now!”

“Don’t tell her that!” my mother says. “Get off the phone.”

“Sorry—Mom’s here, and not happy about me talking to you about this. Where are you? Are you at home? Can I call you back?”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Yeah, he really does have to come home eventually, doesn’t he?”

“Look … meet me in a half hour at the playground, okay?”

“I really have to go. But, yes, I’ll do that.”

I hang up. My mother is still looking at me.

“I’m not the one you’re mad at!” I remind her.

Poor Bahiyyih will have to clean up the mess in her room tomorrow morning—I can’t be bothered to figure out where everything goes. That would take too much accessing, and the priority is finding out which playground Kai means. There’s one at an elementary school about four blocks from the house. I assume that’s the place.

It’s not easy to sneak out of the house. I wait until the three of them return to Kai’s room to tear it apart again, then skulk out the back door. I know this is a risky maneuver—the minute they realize I’m gone, there will be hell to pay. But if Kai comes back with me, that’ll all be forgotten.

I know I should be focusing on the matter at hand, but I can’t help but think of Hanni. School’s now over for her, too. Is she hanging out with Minji? If so, is she treating her well? Did anything about yesterday rub off on her?

I hope, but never expect.

Kai’s nowhere to be found, so I head to the swings and hang in the air for a while. Eventually, he appears on the sidewalk and heads over to me.

“You always pick that swing,” he says, sitting down on the swing next to mine.

“I do?” I say.

“Yeah.”

I wait for him to say something else. He doesn’t.

“Kai,??? I finally say. “What happened?”

He shakes his head. He’s not going to tell me.

I stop swinging and plant my feet on the ground.

“This is stupid, Kai. You have five seconds to tell me what happened, or I’m going to head right back home, and you’ll be on your own for whatever happens next.”

Kai is surprised. “What do you want me to say? Josh Wolf gets me my pot. Today we got into a fight over it—he was saying I owed him, when I didn’t. He started pushing me around, so I pushed him back. And we got caught. He had the drugs, so he said I’d just dealt them to him. Real smooth. I said that was totally wrong, but he’s in all AP classes and everything, so who do you think they’re going to believe?”

He has definitely convinced himself it’s the truth. But whether it started out being the truth or not, I can’t tell.

“Well,” I say, “you have to come home. Dad’s trashed your room, but they haven’t found any drugs yet. And they didn’t find any in your locker, and I’m guessing they didn’t find any in the car, or I would’ve heard about it. So right now, it’s all okay.”

“I’m telling you, there aren’t any drugs. I used the weed up this morning. That’s why I needed more from Josh.”

“Josh, your former best friend.”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t been friends with him since we were, like, eight.”

I am sensing that this was the last time Kai had a best friend.

“Let’s go,” I tell him. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Easy for you to say.”

I am not expecting our father to hit Kai. But as soon as he sees him in the house, he decks him.

I think I am the only one who is truly stunned.

“What have you done?” my father is yelling. “What stupid, stupid thing have you done?”

Both my mother and I move to stand between them. Grandma just watches from the sidelines, looking mildly pleased.

“I haven’t done anything!” Kai protests.

“Is that why you ran away? Is that why you are being expelled? Because you haven’t done anything?”

“They won’t expel him until they hear his side of the story,” I point out, fairly sure this is true.

“Stay out of this!” my father warns.

“Why don’t we all sit down and talk this over?” my mother suggests.

The anger rises off my father like heat. I feel myself receding in a way that I’m guessing is not unusual for Bahiyyih when she’s with her family.

I become nostalgic for that first waking moment of the morning, back before I had any idea what ugliness the day would bring.

We sit down this time in the den. Or, rather, Kai, our mother, and I sit down—Kai and me on the couch, our mother in a nearby chair. Our father hovers over us. Our grandmother stays in the doorway as if she’s keeping a lookout.

“You are a drug dealer!” our father yells.

“I am not a drug dealer,” Kai answers. “For one, if I were a drug dealer, I’d have a lot more money. And I’d have a stash of drugs that you would’ve found by now!”

Kai, I think, needs to shut up.

“Josh Wolf was the drug dealer,” I volunteer. “Not Kai.”

“So what was your brother doing—buying from him?”

Maybe, I think, I’m the one who needs to shut up.

“Our fight had nothing to do with drugs,” Kai says. “They just found them on him afterward.”

“Then what were you and Josh fighting about?” our mother asks, as if the fact that these two boyhood chums fought is the most unbelievable thing that’s occurred.

“A girl,” Kai says. “We were fighting about a girl.”

I wonder if Kai thought this one out ahead of time, or whether it’s come to him spontaneously. Whatever the case, it’s probably the only thing he could have possibly said that would have made our parents momentarily … happy might be overstating it. But less angry. They don’t want their son to be buying or selling drugs, being bullied, or bullying anyone else. But fighting over a girl? Perfectly acceptable. Especially since I’m guessing, it’s not like Kai’s ever mentioned a girl to them before.

Kai sees he’s gained ground. He pushes further. “If she found out—oh God, she can’t find out. I know some girls like it when you fight over them, but she definitely doesn’t.”

Mom nods her approval.

“What’s her name?” Dad asks.

“Do I have to tell you?”

“Yes.”

“Yuna. Shin Yuna.”

Wow, he’s even made her Korean. Amazing.

“Do you know this girl?” Dad asks me.

“Yes,” I say. “She’s awesome.” Then I turn to Kai and shoot him fake daggers. “But Romeo over here never told me he was into her. Although now that he says it, it’s starting to make sense. He has been acting very weird lately.”

Mom nods again. “He has.”

Eyes bloodshot, I want to say. Eating a lot of Cheetos. Staring into space. Eating more Cheetos. It must be love. What else could it possibly be?

What was threatening to be an all-out war becomes a war council, with our parents strategizing what the principal can be told, especially about the running away. I hope for Kai’s sake that Shin Yuna is, in fact, a student at the high school, whether he has a crush on her or not. I can’t access any memory of her. If the name rings a bell, the bell’s in a vacuum.

Now that our father can see a way of saving face, he’s almost amiable. Kai’s big punishment is that he has to go clean up his room before dinner.

I can’t imagine I would have gotten the same reaction if I’d beaten up another girl over a boy.

I follow Kai up to his room. When we’re safely inside, door closed, no parents around, I tell him, “That was kinda brilliant.”

He looks at me with unconcealed annoyance and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Get out of my room.”

This is why I prefer to be an only child.

I have a sense that Bahiyyih would let it go. So I should let it go. That’s the law I’ve set down for myself—don’t disrupt the life you’re living in. Leave it as close to the same as you can.

But I’m pissed. So I diverge a little from the law. I think, perversely, that Hanni would want me to. Even though she has no idea who Kai and Bahiyyih are. Or who I am.

“Look,” I say, “you lying little pothead bitch. You are going to be nice to me, okay? Not only because I am covering your butt, but because I am the one person in the world right now who is being decent to you. Is that understood?”

Shocked, and maybe a little contrite, Kai mumbles his assent.

“Good,” I say, knocking a few things off his shelves. “Now happy cleaning.”

Nobody talks at dinner.

I don’t think this is unusual.

I wait until everyone is asleep before I go on the computer. I retrieve Minji’s email and password from my own email, then log in as her.

There’s an email from Hanni, sent at 10:11 p.m.

M –

I just don’t understand. Was it something I did? Yesterday was so perfect, and today you are mad at me again. if it’s something I did, please tell me, and I’ll fix it. I want us to be together. I want all our days to end on a nice note. not like tonight.

with all my heart, h

I reel back in my seat. I want to hit reply, I want to reassure her that it will be better—but I can’t. You’re not her anymore, I have to remind myself. You’re not there.

And then I think: What have I done?

I hear Kai moving around in his room. Hiding evidence? Or is fear keeping him awake?

I wonder if he’ll be able to pull it off tomorrow.

I want to get back to her. I want to get back to yesterday.

[melimata613]

My Chemical Romance Circa 2012

The year was 2012 I believe. I was still pretty insecure and was trying to figure myself out. I had a stupid schoolgirl crush on a guy with blue eyes and freckles. As much as I tried to hide my flushing cheeks it was all too obvious that I liked this man. He was tall and I liked to make myself suffer.

I would make it my mission to be around him as much as possible and I didn't care who saw me seeking him out. He was a year older than me. I felt like I was beneath him in some sort. He was very attractive to me. I felt myself gazing into those eyes constantly. I had never experienced to that point of someone being as interested in me as I was in him. He would soar above me with his full foot difference in height. He'd laugh at me when he would pass me by with a server dish above my head with no concern. I liked that he made me feel tiny in all the cute ways that I did.

His name was different. His story from what I knew was different. He was a lone wolf. He seemed to know himself well enough to not care how others perceived him. He had a cute chuckle. He reminded me a little of Leonardo DiCaprio. I spent my time during my shifts playing around with him hoping that the little butterflies I felt would be fed with an actual relationship. The butterflies were hungry and a little violent. I couldn't understand how at 19 I still felt like such an insecure thirteen-year-old again. I would pull at my hair and my clothing like a compulsive twitch.

I remember once we got on the same bus after a work shift. He was leaning in towards me. I smelled his body and felt the warmth of the closeness and I melted like butter. I felt like everyone on the bus could see how much I was swooning and as stupid as I looked. He told me that he appreciates it when a girl makes the first move and I fumbled. I wasn't sure if that was a hint to me but I knew I could never. I liked this man who reminded me of Gerard Way from the band. He even told me that others have stated he looked like him but I didn't know much of the musician.

This man broke me in many ways that I am sure he was not made aware of.  I liked him and was hoping it would become something other than what it was. I still remember the happiness I felt when I got his number. How easy it was too. Never thought a man that looked like him would practically beg me to take his number. He wanted a photo that I took as a joke. If I remember correctly he wrote his number on a piece of paper and gave it to me and told me to send it to him. A few weeks later he even boasted out loud that we had each other's number.

People around as coworkers had noticed us. Some had even said things to us, but no one was as bold as Jennifer. I remember Jennifer. She was an older woman maybe in her 40s with a southern twang and dark brown hair. She told my crush:

"You mustn't be messing around with this girl unless you like her. That is what she is going to think." Jennifer smirked with her arm on her hip.

This boy just laughed and exclaimed he likes to mess around with several of the hostesses/ servers to make the shift go quicker. My heart sank, Jennifer said something I only dreamt about saying. I did very much feel like he liked me. He did follow me around just as much as I did to him. He was always smiling and I swear I would catch him looking. My ass, my broken ass, never allowed myself to believe he did like me. He never hit on me. He never complimented me. He also liked referring to me as a friend. Which hurt.

We had gone out a few times together. The first time was the movies. He framed it like multiple coworkers getting together but the day of it was only us and one other person. He sat in between me and the other female coworker. I believe he paid for both of us. We saw World War Z. I was fidgeting the whole time hoping he grab my hand or do the arm move but he didn't. We had also gone out to eat twice just us those times and he also paid. I remember talking with friends confused about how to process those outings. They felt like dates. But this man continued to call me his friend. For a while, the words friend or just friends would trigger me.

After some time of me pinning for this man, I decided to leave the job and go somewhere else that was less stressful for me. I was a full-time college student and this place was out of my way. I was going to school downtown and was looking for employment downtown as well.

A few months or weeks had passed and I got an offer to work at WaterTower Place mall. I remember letting him know when my last day would be. He told me that he would miss me and I stated you have my number anyways.

A few months later he gets a job across the street from where I worked. He joked that he didn't know that was the place I work at and stated he would come to visit me one day. That did not happen but there was a brief period where he would comment on my Facebook and only confuse me more.

I know that now years later I could have put myself out there but I didn't. I can't let my anger of what could have been scarred me.

I hope for him that he is happy. I know that happiness in life requires work and self-reflection.

I am in a relationship now. It might not be perfect, but I like to think all things I've done wrong or wish I could have done differently are lessons. I try to be as honest and transparent with my partner even if it is to my deficit.  There is no point in trying to hide portions of myself that would explain things.

I grew up in a family that liked to point out all your flaws and your mistakes. They believe in tough love raising. They believe you mustn't show any weakness or doubt. You must own every part of yourself even the bad. Many of them I picked up from them. I see the despair in many of them. I have never been the kind of person who keeps my feelings in. I am not sure where that comes from but I know I was the odd one.

I chose to distance myself from them for my benefit but the emotional turmoil they left me with still tingles and is there.          

It has taken me years to love myself with my flaws and all. It is still a work in progress.         

DMs always open  

[leggerefiore]

Under yandere circumstances or not when Ingo loses a partner (and what inspired me to think of this was yandere Ingo losing his partner and kid when they ran away) when he falls apart and buries himself in work would he fall back into drinking again to further cope? Just the mental image of Emmet being the one to run into the lost kid and going silently maniacal helping them find their parent "Could it be? It has to be." and finding them and dragging them to the office where Ingo's had a harder day than usual coping and definitely further into a bottle than he should be and Emmet bursts in and Ingo thinks he's hallucinating drunk at first seeing the love of his life standing there so simply after what'd been so hellish and long would he start sobbing fearful this was another illusion of his grief only for Emmet to just darkly "Look what you've done. Fix this." before pushing them his way and picking up his confused nephew to cradle whispering his parents just needed to have a talk before stepping outside and closing the door behind him and Ingo snaps out of it when he realizes they're actually real, they're actually there and just being overcome with emotion but still intoxicated surely this wouldn't go well and simple

cw: alcohol, drinking, yandere

The burn of the liquor served as a reminder that he was real; he was alive. It did not feel like it at times, having lost two of the most important people in his life within the same instance. At first, he had been hopeful. Emmet and Elesa promised him that you could not have gone far from his apartment, especially with a crying infant in your arms. Time proved this wrong. A week went by, and his hope slowly ebbed into a cautious faith. A month dissolved the solute of his belief into a solvent of dread and depression.

His family, his dear, precious family, vanishing from his grasp; one that he had dreamt of all his life. Playing house as a child, holding a baby-doll close, pretending it would one day be his child, Ingo knew what he wanted from a young age. He was never going to cope well with the loss of something so beloved to him. His brother scolded him as he returned to his worst habits. Smoke breaks taken during his over twelve-hour long shifts. A bottle of whiskey was under his desk, alongside a lovely glass cup.

Emmet hates it. His older brother drinks himself into slumber at his desk, usually not leaving the office until the early hours of the morning before returning only a few hours later for the early shift. The younger twin wishes you had never gotten the foolish idea in your head to run from his brother's comforting love. All he wanted to do was take care of you while starting a family, and you took that away from him. When he found you, the twin found it just to punish you himself. Ingo was too gentle with you. Emmet's partner never tried to run after one attempt. They were so well-behaved and took such great care of his girls. You clearly were allowed to run wild with no correction to your behaviour.

This stasis remains for five long years. Each one weighed heavier, yet heavier upon Ingo's shoulders. His child would be entering kindergarten now. The boy's face was unknown in his head. Would he resemble you or Ingo more? He swallowed another drink. Office duty left him with too much on his mind and nothing but thoughts of what should have been. The writing on the paperwork grew sloppy and unsteady as focus became harder to achieve. His life ended the minute you disappeared. He could not love another; you had been too perfect. Why did you not love him? Ingo was never anything but kind toward you, seeing to your every need. The paper soon became stained with tears.

Emmet felt someone tug on his coat, making him stop. It came from a place much too low to be an adult, so he turned to gaze down at the child who wanted his attention. The small boy peered up at him with familiar eyes of mercury and silver hair. "I-I can't find my parent! Please help!" his little voice squeaked, tears brimming in his eyes. The Subway Boss felt malicious in that moment. There stood his precious nephew, wearing a Thomas the Tank Engine themed backpack and cradling a model train. It could not have been more obvious if someone tried. Emmet knelt down to his level and gently wiped his tears with his gloved thumbs. "I am happy to! Do they look like...?" he described you as he recalled you.

The boy nodded but pressed a finger to his lips. "They said no one is allowed to know. A wig and contacts hide those!" he whispered conspiratorially into Emmet's ear. The younger twin could only giggle at his nephew's cuteness. Oh, what a fool you were to not leave Unova. You were found not long after, yelling your son's name through a crowd of people. Terror bloomed in your eyes as you spotted the Subway Boss cradling your son. He calls out for you and tells 'Uncle Emmet' all about what a great parent you are. Emmet just nods and gazes at you with a dark look in his seas of mercury. You know there is no way out; your son is an unknowing hostage in all of this, giggly and unaware. Simply happy to have a new family member.

Emmet drags you by the arm while holding your son's hand in the other. "Ingo will be so relieved to see you again," Emmet kept his tone empty, not trying to scare his little nephew, "He will be even more excited to see him again." His eyes shift to the small boy, who gazes up at him with adoring eyes. "You are going to meet your daddy! Are you happy? Smile!" he coos, and your son smiles brightly, revealing a missing tooth. The office comes soon enough, opening to reveal the man of your nightmares leaned over his desk, barely managing to stay awake.

"Ingo! Wake up! I have some gifts for you!" he sing-songed as you were shoved inside. The older twin lifted his head slowly, annoyed by his brother's tone. He froze as his eyes landed upon you and the small child beside his brother. Was this - Was this another hallucination from his desperation to see you again? He rubs his eyes a few times and shakes his head to wake himself up. You still remain. Emmet swoops up the boy, and Ingo's heart aches at the sight of his son. How many milestones in his life had been missed by the Subway Boss? "Now, you fix this this," Emmet commands you, tone underlying with malice, "I'm taking my cute nephew out to see the trains." You son gasped and hugged on to his uncle.

You knew there was no escape as Ingo stood up and wobbled over to you. Sobriety was becoming more and more real as he stared at you in wonder. "My dear... Oh, my love!" he cried, arms trapping you to his malnourished form, "Why - Why did you leave me? Why did you take him? I love you both deeply, yet you ran away with our precious son!" Ingo felt tears burning in his eyes as he recalled all the years of sorrow. You flinched at the onslaught of emotions from the man. Memories of being molded into his perfect partner rise to the surface.

Why did you leave? All those terrible jobs you had to work in order to support yourself and your son. Barely able to rent an apartment and having to hide yourself from public scrutiny. Ingo wanted to give you everything and more. He provided a safe place to live, things to entertain yourself with, and, as much as you hated to admit it, he had given you your son. You despised the infant at first, resembling his father to a frightening extent, yet the way he clung to you and stared up at you with these confused, big eyes. Your feelings shifted into ones of protection and care. That was what snapped you from your delusional stupor and imparted you to run.

As he grew, however, he proved himself more alike his father. A love for trains was present as he watched Thomas as a toddler. He moved into child-safe documentaries. One time, while out grocery shopping, he approached you holding a model train with begging eyes. You sighed. Arms came around Ingo as you smelled the smoke that had clung to his jacket. Drinking and smoking again. "I'm sorry, Ingo. I had become scared for him and felt this urge to run. I don't know why I did it, but I was too afraid to return to you afterwards," you whispered, partial truths leaving you.

You wanted to return many times. The Subway Boss wore your mind down and rebuilt it into a shape of his own during your captivity. To say nothing remained with you from that time would be a lie. You had truly become content with the idea of being his house spouse. Crawling back to him would have been so easy, and he would have wholeheartedly accepted it. There was just no way you could put your son through such a terrifying shift. "You took so much from me..." he pulled away, mouth frozen into a frown once more with his brows stiffening together, "I never got to see him as he learnt to walk and talk; I never got to hear his first words. You could have returned, dear. I would never have hurt you."

It stung, and the way his hands moved to grip your wrists felt like a numb bruise. As you tried to speak again, his lips pressed against yours, shutting you up.You were pushed against a wall while the kiss turned more intimate. His tongue presses into your mouth, blooming the bitter spirit against your tastebuds. Hips ground against yours, and you understood what he wanted. He wasn't going to miss anything the second time around.

Your son returned from his whirlwind trip to see you sitting on the couch in the office, hands bound behind your back with Ingo's tie. It brought deep shame to have him bear witness to such a state. He looked up at Emmet, "You promised that daddy would keep them safe!" His hands went firmly on his hips in an attempt to imitate your stance when he had acted up. The younger twin chuckled, "He is. Soon they'll be safe from everything. Your dad will take verrrrry good care of them. You'll help, right? I'm sure he is eager to speak with you." At the scene, Ingo rested his head in his hand, his eyes adoringly taking in his son. Their gazes met, and your fate was fully sealed. "I'll help!"

Ingo's grin was a large one as his son showed the same demeanor as him.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Imagine if Meng Shi begged and bargained and collected favors till she was able to send her A-Yao to education with the Lan Sect, perhaps even become a cultivator with them. Would he take that change? Would he become a rogue cultivator? Would the strict rules help curb his inner muderimpuls or enrage him or teach him to hide better?

A Good Fit - ao3

“The…Lan sect?” Meng Yao said doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure,” his mother said, her mouth tight. She looked upset, the way she always did these days when he referenced, intentionally or otherwise, the original plan that she had had to send him to join his father, sect leader of Lanling Jin. She’d raised Meng Yao on a steady diet of stories of what his life would be like when his father finally took him back the way he’d promised her he would, stories that had filled his days and nights for years and years and years, and then just last year she’d suddenly stopped talking about it entirely. It was as if the person who’d told those stories had nothing to do with her.

Meng Yao didn’t know what had happened, but he assumed it must have been pretty bad.

“It'll be a good fit,” she added.

“Then I’ll go to the Lan sect,” he said, and pretended not see the way his mother relaxed a little, relieved that he wasn’t asking too many questions. “I’ve heard they are gentlemen there, righteous but gentle; it will be the best match for my personality, I’m sure.”

A lie, of course. ‘Gentlemen’ were just as likely to come to the brothel as brutes, and they were all the same once they had a cup of wine and a beauty in their arms – Meng Yao tried not to have any illusions.

“Can we afford it?” he asked instead, since that was something he was sure his mother would have thought of, would have expected him to ask. “Gusu is so far away…”

“I have obtained a letter from the local sect recommending you to their sect leader, Lan Qiren,” she said. “He’s the one that teaches the classes – the one that sent out the summons asking the subsidiary sects to look for individuals with raw talent to join his classes and offering them an extra seat for their sects for each nameless orphan they find that lives up to Lan sect standards. Only the Heavens know why he’s doing something like that…I assume they’re trying to expand.”

That seemed like the most reasonable explanation. Meng Yao nodded. “So I’ll be traveling with the local sect?”

“That’s right,” his mother said, and raised her chin a little. “At least this much, your mother was able to do for you.”

She’d begged and bargained and traded favors for it, then, Meng Yao thought, and yet taking him along was to their own benefit: if they were looking for inherited cultivation talent sufficient for the Lan sect, then the bastard son of another Great Sect leader would be a better bet than some random nobody. She’d probably humiliated herself for nothing.

“Will you come with me?” he asked, more concerned with that – it was too easy for women of ill repute to disappear into the depths of the city if they didn’t have someone to watch out for them.

Even someone as young as he was. He wished he was older.

“You can come back to visit me during the Spring Festival,” she said, which meant no. “I’ll be all right, A-Yao.”

Meng Yao wasn’t so sure.

Still, not having him around would at least remove a visible reminder of his mother’s age – she’d been kicked out of the better brothels because of him, because no one wanted a woman who was a mother. Leaving would at least do that for her.

“I’ll write,” he finally said. “I’ll write as often as they let me.”

“And I’ll write back,” she promised him, kissing his cheek. “I promise.”

With that, Meng Yao supposed he had to be satisfied.

-

The Lan sect was both exactly like what Meng Yao expected and absolutely nothing at all like anything he could have dreamt.

For the first, his cynicism was almost immediately confirmed: the boys raised there were snobby as anything, looking down at the rest of them as little better than barbarians, and many of the adults were the same way. It was clear that this whole business of recruiting talented nobodies was a project of the sect leader’s – the interim sect leader, no less, not even the real thing – and nobody else’s; they were only just barely going along with it. Adding to that the fact that there were dozens if not hundreds of rules, and Meng Yao could glumly foresee a future of having his lack of knowledge held over his head as a fault, even with his marvelous memory to act as his backing.

For the second…

Well, there was Lan Xichen, who was – as unbelievable as it seemed – to actually embody all those things that people said about gentlemen, all kindness and gentleness and fierce upright pride, except only for real. There was Lan Wangji, who was basically perfect in every way and kinder than he gave the impression he was, willing to help tutor anyone who asked if only they dared disturb his solitude long enough to do so. There was the boy Meng Yao shared a room with, Su She, who’d punched the boy from the Yunping cultivator clan in the mouth for calling Meng Yao a son of a whore and pretended it was because they weren’t allowed to talk about that sort of thing, when actually it’d been because he hadn’t wanted rumors to get around that might make Meng Yao’s life harder in the future.

There was Lan Qiren, who was strict and a little boring but fair, painfully fair, handing out punishments with an equitable hand no matter that it meant that he was punishing the locals as often if not more often. It’d been his idea to bring people like Meng Yao into the Lan sect, and defending the idea was the only time he truly seemed moved to passion. Now that they’d passed the initial examination and been judged to match Lan sect standards, Lan Qiren announced, as far as he was concerned, they were Lan sect just as if they were born there, as if they’d been children of his own.

And he even seemed to really believe it, too.

Today, Meng Yao’s head was still warm from when the stern Teacher Lan had put his hand there, gentle and approving, and his ears still burning from the murmured “Well done, Meng Yao, as expected.”

“I think I would kill someone for him,” Meng Yao said dreamily to Su She, who snorted.

“You’ve got such father issues,” he said disdainfully, as if he didn’t have entire family issues. That was just Su She’s way, though – he bitched and moaned and complained without end, and he��d probably kill someone for Meng Yao if Meng Yao so much as hinted it was something he’d want. They’d made friends for a reason. “You know the bit about the poor kids being his own children is a lie, right?”

“I know which sect’s leader is my father, thanks,” Meng Yao said, rolling his eyes. “I’m well aware it’s not Teacher Lan. Like he’d ever have kids of his own, anyway.”

“That’d require noticing when someone’s flirting with him,” Su She agreed, all solemn for just a moment, and then he dissolved into sniggering giggles. Meng Yao couldn’t blame him: it was, in fact, extremely funny when women (and sometimes men) tried to flirt with Teacher Lan, mostly because of the way that he very genuinely and completely missed that that was what was happening each and every time.

“Laugh all you like,” Meng Yao said peaceably. “You’d kill for him, too.”

“Probably,” Su She agreed. “But only because of you.”

That was fair enough. After getting the lay of the land, Meng Yao had arranged for them to ‘accidentally’ be overheard by Teacher Lan while talking about the misconduct of one of the teachers who was the most biased against guest disciples, one of the ones that had been harassing Su She in particular for over a year before Meng Yao had arrived, and despite Su She’s initial nervousness about the plan, it had all gone splendidly. Sure, they’d been punished to do five copies of a treatise on upright conduct because they’d breached Talking behind the backs of others is prohibited, but the teacher in question had been sentenced to two hundred strikes with the discipline rod for abusing his position and three months of enforced seclusion to contemplate his misbehavior, and then, Teacher Lan had said, his expression dark and threatening, they could discuss what role would be the best fit in the future.

The other teachers had taken notice and shaped up very quickly, after that.

Comparatively, those five copies made in the nice cool Library Pavilion instead of having to do chores on the hottest days of summer? Practically a pat on the back for bringing it to his attention.

Su She would never have dared to raise anything if it was just him, Meng Yao thought; he had a strange fear of authority figures that combined envy and misery in an explosive combination – he would have just suffered and suffered and suffered until he’d been pushed too far and then it would have all burst out at once. He wasn’t like Meng Yao, who was unwilling to keep to his “proper” place and was more than willing to use his greater-than-average share of brains to get what he wanted, no matter what rules he broke in the process. He was the sort of person who was willing to do whatever it took to obtain his desires – no matter what it took.

Well, maybe not no matter what. He wouldn’t want to disappoint Lan Qiren too much.

(Okay, so maybe Su She was right and he had some unresolved father issues. So what if he did? Whose business was it but his?)

-

It’d taken Meng Yao a while to fully adjust to the Cloud Recesses.

Some parts he’d figured out right away – the way they all flattered themselves as gentlemen even if they were actually little more than hypocrites (Teacher Lan and his personally taught nephews exempted, of course), which of course meant that Meng Yao’s ability to act pitiful at the drop of a hat and cleverly turn black into white made him a teacher’s pet at once. The vegetarian meals were easy enough to adapt to, given that his mother hadn’t had the money for meat all that often, and the training and cultivation and all that wasn’t any challenge for his excellent powers of retention – he had ambitions of becoming one of Teacher Lan’s aides one day, and worked assiduously towards that goal. Even waking and sleeping early, which was practically the opposite of his schedule at home, was something he could adjust to, given time and incentive.

It was his mentality that took some time to adjust.

Meng Yao had perhaps grown up with too many of his mother’s stories, painting an image of a matchless paradise – at the start, he looked at everything around him, serene and elegant but not quite as rich and shining and thought that it would do, for now. When he’d first arrived, he had had every intention of making a good reputation for himself and using that reputation to get his real father’s attention – he’d liked Teacher Lan from the beginning, despite his best attempts to not let his heart be swayed, but he’d reasoned that if a teacher was like this, then a blood-related father would be even better.

And so, for the first half-year, he’d treated his time at the Cloud Recesses…not lightly, no. He was extremely serious about making sure to get the maximum benefit he could. And yet, at the same time, he still was not really committing himself to the place.

This wasn’t where he was going to live his whole life, he reasoned; it was just a stepping stone to a better future. That meant he would exert himself to point out things that made him look good, to eliminate obstacles in his path, to win himself allies, but not bother with those longer-term problems, the ones that really ought to be fixed but which would take a great deal of effort with little reward other than annoying people.

His feeling of superiority and emotional distance lasted right up until the first discussion conference.

From a distance, Jin Guangshan was everything Meng Yao could have imagined – perhaps a little too similar to the clients that his mother often saw, a little dissolute to pull off the air of a refined scholar he affected, but wearing more gold than Meng Yao had ever seen in his life, with a retinue of servants that dwarfed the other sect’s. Each of those servants were dressed more finely than even main clan cultivators in some of the smaller sects, and though Meng Yao’s Lan sect guest disciple clothing was of such quality that he didn’t need to fear their disdain, he couldn’t help but be secretly impressed.

He'd exerted himself more than usual to trade away all of his chores and duties, freeing himself up to take on patrol duty near the Jin sect. He’d perhaps daydreamed about some sort of encounter – nothing active on his part, of course, but he couldn’t quite resist playing through some fantasy of catching someone’s eye by chance, getting called over, a “You have a familiar set to your chin, who’s your father?”, a shy halting admission, recognition, a joyous reunion…

Instead, his father spent the entire night getting drunk and cursing the Lan sect’s hospitality for not providing him with girls to go with his liquor, calling Lan Qiren a miserable prude with a stick up his ass right in front of the Lan sect disciples that clenched their fists in barely concealed rage. He’d seen Meng Yao all right, ordered him to come forward, but it’d only been to mock him in front of all of his servants – and not even for being his bastard son, no, that would involve bothering to pick him out from the crowd or to ask who he was. No, he’d mocked him simply for being one of the poor disciples that Lan Qiren had taken in, all because his accent was marked with the distinct tones of Yunping rather than the sweetness of Gusu.

“Tell me, boy,” he said, breathing fumes into Meng Yao’s face and making him feel suddenly as if he’d never left the brothel – that the Cloud Recesses had all been a vague dream, and now he’d woken up and lost it all. “How does that old fart Qiren expect you to pay him back for all he’s done for you? I heard the Lan sect includes a pretty face as one of its standard requirements…”

Meng Yao put his gaze above his father’s head and pretended to be deaf.

“It seems like rather a lot of effort,” one of his father’s attendants remarked. “Even if Second Master Lan wanted a boy to warm his bed, couldn’t he just buy one like any normal person?”

“Bah, boys,” his father said, and leaned back, waving his hands in dismissal. “Why would anyone bother with a boy when you could have a soft woman instead? Just as long as they’re stupid enough – you know, there’s nothing worse than a woman who’s talented and knows it, too smart, always trying to get above their station…”

“You’re thinking about that whore in Yunping again, aren’t you? The one that interrupted your dinner and made a scene, claiming you’d promised to take in the son she bore you?” the attendant said, laughing. “I told you, you should’ve just killed her for her impudence rather than just having her beaten and thrown out. That way the matter wouldn’t still be bothering you…”

“Go away, boy,” another servant said to Meng Yao, who was frozen stiff in belated terror, nausea churning in his stomach as he realized his mother could’ve gone out one day and never come back, and he would never have known why – or maybe it was that he’d been spending his considerable time and brain on pleasing someone who would have done that, who nearly had done that. “Your accent’s brought back bad memories, don’t you see?”

Meng Yao left.

No, to be more blunt: he fled. He ran away, hot tears filling his eyes until he couldn’t see – belly full of regret and disappointment, crushed dreams feeling like broken shards of glass in his mouth and throat.

He tried to tell himself that it was better to find out now, when they were still distant, before he'd sold his soul for the futile chance to get that horrible man's affection, but he couldn't quite throw off the shame of knowing that if he hadn't heard such a thing up front, he probably would have done that. Would have humiliated himself like that, and for what? A man who regretted not murdering his mother?

He ran right into Lan Wangji, who was also on patrol.

Lan Wangji took one look at him and grabbed his wrist, dragging him away from the main pathway and all the way to his uncle’s rooms.

Lan Qiren was still awake despite the late hour, writing something at his desk, but he set aside his brush at once. “What’s going on?” he asked, frowning. “Wangji – Meng Yao – one of you report.”

“Meng Yao was on patrol by the Jin sect,” Lan Wangji explained as Meng Yao furiously tried to dash away his tears using his sleeve.

“Who permitted that? First year disciples aren’t permitted to patrol during discussion conferences,” Lan Qiren asked, his frown deepening. “It wouldn’t be proper – ah, but no, I recall now. I suppose it was inevitable. Wangji, well done, and thank you. You are dismissed.”

After Lan Wangji left, he turned his eyes on Meng Yao.

“You volunteered, didn’t you?” he asked.

Meng Yao felt his back go cold: Lan Qiren knew, then. It had never been said out loud by anyone as far as he knew, and yet it was clear that Lan Qiren knew who his father was – and probably his mother, too.

He knew that Meng Yao was – that he wasn’t anything more than –

“You are one of my most promising disciples, Meng Yao,” Lan Qiren told him, and poured him a cup of tea from his own pot, pressing it into his hands. It was finer tea than Meng Yao had ever had in his life, full of smoke and flavor. “The rules say Be loyal and filial, but they also praise reciprocity. You have not been recognized, and have not received your forefathers’ grace. You can fulfill your obligations to chivalry through your respect for the parent that raised you.”

Meng Yao stared down at the teacup. Lan Qiren had completely misunderstood the nature of Meng Yao’s concern – he was disappointed in what his father was, not worried about not living up to his obligations of being a filial child. And yet it was a little nice to hear that as far as Lan Qiren was concerned, the rules said that he could tell his father go hang for all he cared…

And that he ought to honor his mother, which was something no one who knew her had ever said to him.

“Even if she –” His voice stuttered. “Even if she’s a…”

He couldn’t say the word.

“Appreciate the good people is not qualified by class or profession,” Lan Qiren said, and his monotone voice was blissfully without emotion, as if this were just another lesson in class, and not the deepest hurt of Meng Yao’s life. “I have never met your mother, Meng Yao, but you are a good child – diligent, organized, sincere, with good judgment, and you clearly adore her. That tells me everything I need to know.”

Meng Yao burst into tears.

-

Meng Yao liked Lan Xichen a lot, but he also had to admit that sometimes, the older boy was, well…

“Dumb as a pile of rocks,” Su She announced.

“Do not criticize other people,” Meng Yao said piously, but then chuckled, shaking his head. “Say, rather, that he’s naïve and sheltered, and overly inclined to believe the best in people.”

“Like I said: dumb as rocks. How many times is going to get himself swindled into being someone’s sword or shield before he figures out that the problem is him?”

“Some people don’t have the capacity to understand the depths of humanity’s foulness –”

“Yeah, dumb ones.”

“Su She, please.” Su She held up his hands in surrendered. “At any rate, if Lan-gongzi is going to keep falling for people’s tricks, it’s beholden on us to help protect him.”

“You just don’t want Teacher Lan to be sad about something serious happening to his nephew,” Su She said knowingly, but he was already nodding. “All right, what are we going to do about it? He outranks us. We can’t exactly tell him to his face that he’s being…”

He paused.

Dumb as rocks went unsaid, but then, it didn’t need to be said out loud for the meaning to be clear.

Meng Yao sighed.

“You can only trick someone so many times,” he said. “If we want to keep him from getting tricked by other people, then we have to trick him first. And better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lan-gongzi likes to save people,” Meng Yao explained. “He really sees himself as a chivalrous gentleman – he puts chivalry first, even though Teacher Lan says Learning comes first. That’s why he always sides with whoever he perceives to be the underdog in a given situation, no matter how wrong that impression is. That’s how most of the people who’ve been tricking him have gone for it: playing the victim, appealing to his sense of righteousness, pulling the curtains over his eyes to obscure what’s actually happening.”

“Okay. So?”

“So, we’ve both got miserable backstories – you being taken from your family at a young age and then bullied, me with my mother and, even worse, father. If we get him on our side, early on, he’ll side with us over anyone else – that way we can keep him from getting roped into other people’s private grudges.”

Su She frowned. “That seems a little manipulative.”

“It’s for his own good, and that’s what’s important,” Meng Yao said, and smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lan-er-gongzi?”

Su She jumped, turning around just in time to see Lan Wangji, who had been standing in the shadow of a nearby tree, step out.

He had a serious expression, as always, but a thoughtful one.

Meng Yao waited patiently.

“You cannot take advantage,” Lan Wangji finally said, and Meng Yao knew he’d won the most important ally in the battle to save Lan Xichen from himself. “That would change it from a virtuous act to a selfish one.”

“Like we need anything from him,” Su She said haughtily. “Maintain your own discipline.”

“Arrogance is forbidden.”

“It’s not arrogance if it’s justified! It’s just self-confidence!”

“Do not argue with family,” Meng Yao quoted, and was pleased to see both of them drop it at once. “Listen, we all share the same goal, and we have to start somewhere, don’t we? We’re stronger together than apart. Together, we can do anything, even protect Lan-gongzi.”

That and more, he thought as the other boys nodded, following his lead. Lan Xichen is just the start.

-

“The Wen sect will make trouble sooner rather than later,” Meng Yao said thoughtfully, one day. His friends turned to look at him. “Yes, I’m serious.”

Lan Wangji nodded, serious as always, but Su She scoffed.

“You can’t even convince that Wei Wuxian boy to leave poor Lan-er-gongzi alone,” he said snidely. “How exactly are you expecting to bring down the Wen sect?”

“I don’t convince Wei Wuxian to leave Lan-er-gongzi alone because Lan-er-gongzi doesn’t want to be left alone,” Meng Yao said. “Obviously. Isn’t that right?”

“You should call me by name,” Lan Wangji said, which wasn’t answering the question and definitely wasn’t denying anything. “You were saying, about the Wen sect?”

Meng Yao smiled.

-

“What brings one of Teacher Lan’s most promising disciples to the Unclean Realm?” Nie Mingjue said, peering at him thoughtfully. “You’re at the wrong time to be one of the usual messengers.”

Meng Yao smiled at him.

“I think you’ll find that we have similar goals, Sect Leader Nie,” he said. “When it comes to making sure that certain people in our lives don’t get hurt by the bad decisions of others, I mean. In your case, it’s your younger brother, who’s a friend of mine –”

Friend, source of information, it was all about the same thing in the end. Meng Yao didn’t have real friends outside the Lan sect, but he’d been very careful to cultivate good relationships with all his most important peers.

“- and for me, well. A teacher for day, a father for a lifetime. I’m sure Sect Leader Nie can understand the importance of protecting one’s father – right?”

“You don’t need to use any sophistry on me,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes. “If you have an idea on what we can do to stop the Wen sect before they go and burn someone’s house down, I’m all ears.”

By chance, Meng Yao did.

It was a good plan, too, daring and brave in equal measure. If it worked the way he hoped it would, he’d win enough fame to get Jin Guangshan to beg for him to join the Jin sect – not that he would, of course.

Meng Yao knew what he wanted, and he knew how he was going to get it, too.

-

“This is a lovely house, A-Yao,” Meng Shi said, running her hand along one of the soft tapestries on the wall. “Truly lovely. Whoever you rented it from has good taste.”

Meng Yao bowed. “Thank you for the compliment, Mother. I put a lot of thought into it.”

“You own it?” she asked, surprised. “But don’t you live up the mountain, with the sect?”

“I do. This is for you.”

“For – me? A-Yao! This is too much – how much must it have cost–”

“I saved the Lan sect’s core texts from being destroyed,” Meng Yao said. “I’m an inner sect disciple now – I could ask for a dozen houses like this, and they’d grant them to me without blinking twice. Teacher Lan would insist on it.”

“Teacher Lan,” his mother murmured. “That’s the one you’ve taken to treating as your own father, isn’t it? You’ve spoken so much of him, in your letters…”

“There’s no need to scheme,” he told her. “He wouldn’t notice your flirtations, anyway.”

His mother arched her eyebrows at him.

“He’s really oblivious.”

“Still…”

“Really no need,” Meng Yao said, and couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Lan Qiren pulling him into a hug when he realized that the books – and Lan Xichen – were all safe from the Wen sect’s attempt to burn down the Cloud Recesses, and, later, again, that Wen Ruohan was dead. He may have deliberately schemed for that second hug, and he might or might not have plans for more. “He already takes me as a son.”

His mother relaxed.

“Good,” she said, and smiled herself. “So, A-Yao, was I right, all those years ago? Was the Lan sect a good fit for you?”

“Yes, Mother,” Meng Yao said. “Yes, it was.”

[mercy-burning]

Losing You Twice / 1: If I Hated You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and it turns out Y/N isn’t the only one struggling with the breakup. Category: Smut (18+), Angst Content Warnings: Language, drinking/getting drunk, penetrative/unprotected sex (If I missed anything, please let me know!) Word Count: 5,538

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

“My bedtime is the darkest, that’s when I’m brokenhearted. The nighttime is the hardest. It’d be easy, if I hated you.” —FLETCHER, If I Hated You

FEBRUARY 13th

It was Valentine's Day weekend, which sucked this time around. Every year for the past three years Y/N looked forward to Valentine's Day, but that was when she actually had someone to spend it with.

Well, someone she actually cared about, anyway... Whether or not Spencer actually knew it, she did really care about him. She was just stupid and didn't say it when he needed to hear it the most.

And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday and Y/N was still without him. Not alone, but still without the man who'd spent the significant holiday with her for the past three years. Memories of their dates and 'afterparties' flooded through her mind as she got ready for work like a montage, a cheesy love-song playlist she'd found on Spotify acting as the soundtrack.

Eventually she sighed and turned it off, opting for something more loud and obnoxious, and therefore not tainted by Spencer's memory. She applied what was left of her makeup and added a pair of earrings before turning the music off altogether and shoving her phone in her bag alongside her keys and other necessities.

Even though she wasn't emotionally prepared for all the cheesy Valentine's things she'd see and hear and experience throughout the weekend, it was still kind of nice to see that things in the bank never changed during the holidays— Everything in her life was so severely different at the moment, that if Marjorie had somehow decided to throw out all her elaborate decorations for each holiday, no matter how small, Y/N would have thought the world was truly ending.

Speaking of, she was met with Marjorie's brighter-than-the-sun smile almost immediately once she set her things in the breakroom.

"How's my little macaron this morning?" she chirped, Y/N chuckling slightly at the nickname— She brought macarons from the bakery down the street on her first birthday she spent at the bank, and ever since then, the older woman had adorned her with the namesake.

"She's alright, Marj... Better now that she's seen you..."

"That boy still on your mind, hon?"

Obviously Marjorie's intentions were good, but Y/N couldn't stand to think about the situation at all, least of all at work... So, setting her jacket on the rack, turned away so that her coworker wouldn't see the visible discomfort on her face, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "So, what are your plans with Geno tomorrow night? Anything special?"

There was a brief pause before Marjorie cleared her throat as well. "Nothing short of our usual dinner plans, my dear. He's been so caught up with work at the Mill lately, I think we're just going to spend the night relaxing."

"Hm," Y/N said shortly, finally turning around and giving her the best smile she could. "Maybe I should take a page from your book and stay in..."

"You weren't going to?"

"No... Britt's been nagging me about getting out there so we're going out tomorrow night. We both haven't been single in a long time, so... Should be fun."

Marjorie didn't look convinced. Either way, she nodded with a smile and walked over to Y/N with something glittery and bright red in her hand— A cheap beaded necklace to clip her nametag onto. She draped it over Y/N's neck and patted her shoulders. "Well, I want you to have fun. And remember that you still have to come to work on Monday. Whatever shenanigans you get into should be reserved for Saturday night only so you can rest properly on Sunday, got it?"

Y/N laughed, thankful for the playful tone in Marjorie's voice. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I joke, I joke," the older woman said with a bright laugh, turning to walk out of the break room. "A little..."

The smile on Y/N's face only really lasted until after Marjorie was out of sight, then she went into her bag and clipped her nametag onto the red beaded necklace with a sigh.

Was she excited to have a good night out with Britt? Of course. Hell, had it been literally any other day of the year, she would have been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the idea of going out to a bar, letting men hit on her until she finally let one of them take her back to his place for the night.

But it just felt like it was too soon.

Either way, she was glad that she'd get to see Britt again, after she'd been on vacation for Christmas and New Year's to see her family and only got back a few weeks ago. She'd seen her on Facetime of course, and they met up once for coffee right after Britt got back from her trip, but a well-needed night out and quality time getting ready together was something that had been missing from their friendship for almost a year.

Y/N knew Britt would most likely spend her time trying to hook them up with end-of-the-night dates, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Even still, sleeping alone the night before was probably one of the worst spells of loneliness she'd ever had. It was normal to be sad spending the first Valentine's Day in years away from a significant other, but knowing how things ended between them—bitter and stained with words left unsaid—this time was just... cold.

And that was putting it lightly.

Y/N laid in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that adorned the ceiling. They used to give her comfort, but now they just reminded her of all the nights she'd spend with Spencer, listening to him tell stories about the constellations. They were some of the most peaceful memories she had.

And now those, too—those stars that had grounded her pretty much all her life and reminded her of the better days—were tainted by her inability to properly communicate.

She almost thought about taking them down.

But if she was really going to get over him this time, for good, then she'd have to learn to make new memories with the stars. Even if it was painful. Even if replacing those memories and writing new ones over them absolutely tore her soul to pieces.

And, as if that pain wasn't enough, that night Y/N dreamt of him, making love to her amongst the stars in every galaxy, only to wake up the next morning cold and alone.

FEBRUARY 14th

She promptly decided that she hated his guts.

It was Valentine's Day, Y/N was respectfully buzzed, and courtesy of two beers and four shots of tequila, she'd just deleted Spencer's number from her phone.

"I'm done," she said, waving a hand at Britt and shoving her phone in her purse. "He doesn't deserve my wallowing."

"Yeah!"

Britt was significantly the more drunk of the two, resulting in a fit of giggles after gaining some stares from the people around them at her sudden outburst.

Y/N smiled, finishing off another shot and shaking her head. "We need more!"

"More shots!" Britt hurried off to grab them, leaving her friend behind with a half-drunken smile that also only felt half-genuine.

Sure, she decided she hated Spencer's guts, but her heart didn't exactly agree well with that sentiment. Even after deleting his number from her phone, after downing all that alcohol, her heart still ached.

Y/N knew deep down that getting over him was going to take some time. A lot of time... But maybe one night of distraction would help.

So the shots kept coming, and by the end of the night, Y/N was just about at her limit.

Which was near black-out drunk. And when you're that drunk you tend to make decisions you wouldn't soberly condone.

Britt got into a cab, and she begged Y/N to come with her, but she assured her friend that she had someone to come pick her up. Eventually the cab driver got tired of their inability to decide, and when Y/N told him to go, he did, leaving her alone on the side of the street at 1am.

Unfortunately, it was incredibly cold, and she didn't really have anyone to come pick her up. And that's where the bad decisions started.

Y/N pulled her phone out, a long sigh escaping her as she dialed the number by heart.

Would he even pick up? He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts before, so why would it have been any different now? Not to mention it was Valentine's Day Weekend. With her luck, he was probably in bed with someone else. Someone who wasn't her. As she listened to the dial tone repeating in her ear, images of him wrapped up with somebody else—sleeping in the bed she'd slept in many times before—clouded her drunken brain and made her more angry than anything.

Her gut twisted, and she almost hung up.

But then the low buzz of the dial tone abruptly stopped and in its place came his voice.

"Y/N?"

Her name on his lips, even through the phone, was grounding, the anger in her system melting away and revealing a coat of drunken relief.

"Spencer! You answered!"

"Yeah... Are you— Is everything okay?"

"Pff, yeah, 'm-fine. Just really fucking cold."

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Duh, I'm outside... I wouldn't be cold in-side... Besides, I didn't call t'alk bout the weather, I need you t'come pick me up."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment Y/N didn't think he was going to say anything she wanted to hear. She swayed on the sidewalk, shivering and praying that he would throw her a bone, even if she'd regret it all in the morning.

"Where are you?" he said finally, and despite herself, she smiled.

FEBRUARY 15th

Spencer couldn't believe he was picking her up at near two in the morning.

Honestly, he'd initially thought about ignoring her call again, but remembering the day it was and taking note of the time, he figured she was most likely in some type of inebriated trouble.

His instincts were right, of course, but he wished that he could have been wrong. He wished she'd only been calling to drunkenly ramble on about how she missed him or maybe how he was stupid and she never wanted to see his face ever again, because that was normal. At least then he could have hung up after she was done and never thought about it again— it was a normal step in any relationship that helped move things along. They could have gotten on with their lives and it would have all been over.

But of course it was never that simple.

Y/N was never that simple.

He pictured her on the street near some bar, alone and cold and drunk, and of course he would have been the only one she could call to rescue her. After all, he'd been pretty much the only thing she'd ever known to make her feel safe.

Still, he wished he was capable of only giving her a ride home and then leaving.

But again, it was never that simple.

It was easy getting her into the car— that wasn't what he was worried about. Rather, it was the fated moment where she'd ask him to stay after he finally got her tucked safely into bed that worried him. Because it was bad enough that it was Y/N... It was her in all her alluring glory, and he'd never been able to deny her anything no matter how badly he tried or wanted to.

Now add on the fact that she was drunk, and most likely sad on their first Valentine's Day apart, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Even if she'd broken his heart, Spencer still cared about her.

Which is why he inevitably agreed to stay, at least until she fell asleep.

He knew her well enough to know all the ways she'd try to get him under the covers with her, so it was a familiar amusement that settled in his being when he was finally able to get on top of the covers with her underneath. But as he entertained her silly little questions with the right answers until she fell asleep, Spencer noticed something else accompanying that amusement.

Guilt.

And then anger for feeling guilty about her sadness— sadness that could have been avoided had she just gotten over whatever was holding her back and either returned his "I love you" or  told him she wasn't feeling the same way just yet.

All she had to do was talk.

He had a right to feel upset about Y/N holding back when he'd been nothing but patient, spending almost every year of their relationship trying to make her see that she had nothing to be afraid of. He'd given her every chance to talk about what she was feeling, whether it was happy or not, and every time she pushed it all away in favor of sex.

That wasn't what he wanted in a relationship, so he ended it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

So why was he feeling so fucking guilty?

He blamed his good nature and innate need to please people, to make them feel good and happy. But he also blamed Y/N and her adorable drunken sleeping face.

He watched as she slept, willing himself not to forget the way she hurt him. She'd completely stolen his heart and shattered it at the same time, and if he was being honest, she still held some of the pieces. But he couldn't get them back, not if he didn't want to risk shattering her own heart in the process.

It felt like they were tied together by some strong, invisible force that wouldn't break unless both of them broke right along with it.

So... maybe he could afford to leave those pieces of his heart with her. He'd have to if they were going to get out of this alive. Not unscathed, sure, but alive nonetheless.

Once he was sure she was deep in sleep, Spencer quietly and carefully got off the bed and navigated through her apartment, getting her a glass of water and leaving it on the table next to her bed. And because he couldn't help it, he cleaned up some of the clothes that were scattered around her floor, depositing them into the hamper and straightening out a few more things that were out of place.

He looked over at her sleeping figure one more time, sighed, and then left, keeping her bedroom door open just a crack.

***

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer.

Despite his better judgement, he'd plopped himself down on her couch after making sure she was sound asleep, hoping to catch his breath and sort through what he was feeling before he got behind the wheel. But of course, it was 2am and he was exhausted, and he couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes and drifting off.

And now he was sitting up, looking around the apartment through the lens of morning.

Though the curtains were sheer, they didn't provide much light, but enough of it showed him just how familiar the space was. Y/N hadn't moved anything around. The same art was on the same walls, the potted ivy plant on her mantle sat un-watered and withering, and every book and record and DVD on her shelves was in the exact same spot as they'd all been the last time he was there in December.

Meanwhile, after the breakup he'd re-arranged everything. He was so sure that they were through for good this time around that he wanted a clean slate. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her memory completely, but if he was going to move on from the hold she'd had on him, he had to do something...

And yet, he ended up at her apartment the morning after Valentine's Day all the same.

He heard the shower running faintly a couple rooms away. You didn't have to pass the couch to get there, so maybe she hadn't seen him sleeping and he could get away cleanly.

Spencer scrambled off the couch, thankful that he hadn't removed his jacket or his shoes and that he could just sprint towards the door without having to find any of his belongings.

But as luck would have it, the second he took a step, the shower turned off. He had to get out of there quickly, but if he did then she'd definitely know he'd stayed overnight. But if he went quietly, he wouldn't have enough time before she caught him.

Maybe I could hide...

He shook the thought with a roll of his eyes, settling on the clearest course of action, which was to make as quick of a getaway as he could. He'd try to be quiet as well, though the creaky door was going to be nearly impossible to get through without a sound.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"You didn't think you could spend the night and then leave without saying goodbye, did 'ja?"

The pure amusement in her tone made his stomach churn, and it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Spencer turned and smiled softly, avoiding looking at her completely. "Sorry. Didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother."

That sentiment held less amusement and more sincerity, which was what guided his eyes to meet the woman who said the words.

His stomach twisted again when he saw her, exactly like he knew she'd be— wrapped in nothing but a thin towel with near-dripping hair cascading down her back. Her legs were bare and exposed, the towel not only thin but short, which meant that her chest was also practically spilling out of it. Despite the obvious and inevitable hungover look in her eye, there was also a good splash of that mischief that'd always been there— the kind that spelled out trouble.

He needed to get out of there.

"Well, um... I'm glad I got you home safe," he said, clearing his throat. "I should... I should go."

"You sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast?"

Spencer could have sworn she was teasing him, dangling her body in front of him like a meal they both knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But then she added, "I've got everything I need for your favorite omelet," and he exhaled with a small smile, exhausted with his own mind for convincing him that she was out to pull him back in.

Still, he declined. "No, I... I shouldn't. But, uh, thank you..."

"You sure?"

This time when he looked up at her, she was closer. She was gently striding forward to meet him, and he half thought about backing up towards the door until he realized he was already there.

"I—I'm sure. Really."

"But you drove around all night just to take me home when I was drunk, the least I can do is feed you..."

"Eh, it's alright. It's... Nothing I haven't done before."

She stopped then, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. It was like her whole demeanor changed—just for a second—from the prowess she'd always been, to what seemed to be a woman filled with sadness and regret. It didn't last long though, just enough for Spencer to notice it before she looked back up at him with that wicked gleam in her eye and a remark right at the tip of her tongue.

"Still. I feel bad, making you do all that for me... Especially now."

He wasn't sure what to make of this... It seemed like she was sincere, but she was also alluring, calling to him like a siren leading him to his ultimate demise. And while he'd come to know that as merely a part of her nature, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was doing it on purpose.

She was in a skimpy towel, after all, and she definitely knew how to use that to her advantage.

It didn't help that he didn't have the courage to leave. Everything inside of him right then longed to drop that towel and indulge himself once more. Putting aside all the heartache and the differences they shared, all he felt in that moment was the need to touch her— to get lost in her and never be found again.

She was his fatal flaw, and it was painfully obvious.

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer...

He was over to her in just three strides, throwing off his jacket and tossing it aside before cradling her face with his hands and bringing their lips together for the first time since Christmas Eve.

The small whine in her throat signaled that she hadn't expected it, but welcomed it all the same. The moment she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the towel fell to the floor, and there was no going back.

"What about breakfast?" Y/N breathed out once they pulled away for air.

Spencer contemplated, studying her face, seeing the way her eyes sparkled, and decided on the two words that sealed his fate.

"Screw breakfast."

Their lips were melded together almost as soon as the words left his mouth. And it wasn't long before every other part of their bodies were melded together as well.

Y/N helped him take the rest of his clothes off as they danced around the entryway and the living room. Everything was open, no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, so to compensate for the lack of breakfast they'd be eating, they migrated to the kitchen counter once Spencer had off everything but his boxers.

He trapped her against the cool marble of the countertop, her back hitting it solid and sending a shiver up her spine. Meanwhile his hands roamed her body, unsure of where to be other than on her at all times, whether it be her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts, or her ass. He wanted to feel all of her, and quite frankly she wanted the same.

She even told him so, in her own way, by bringing one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer to her as she wove her fingers through his hair and tasted his tongue with her own.

The action elicited a groan from his mouth, low and desperate. Spencer settled his hands on her waist and gripped it tight, silently telling her what to do.

So she jumped up and he helped guide her swiftly onto the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and he found himself grinding into her hips, urgent to feel every part of her. And thankfully she was feeling rather desperate herself, because she rolled her hips up into him in return, breaking their mouths apart just briefly to speak.

"Fuck me..."

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment— how badly he was feeling about keeping her entertained while he was slowly deteriorating inside from her emotional detachment and rejection, how much she frustrated him, and more prominently, how she was so goddamn impatient and that he was getting there...

But all that he could manage was a broken, desperate whisper of her name.

It was all he'd ever known.

All that frustration... All that anger, heartache, passion, and time apart combined beautifully into those few syllables that made up her name and tore him apart from the inside out.

And his hands were just as destructive.

Spencer deftly dropped his boxers to the ground and pushed forward, almost losing all sense of self the moment the head of his dick finally made contact with her cunt. He made his way inside of her and then used both of his hands to grip her waist and bring her closer, their mouths connecting harshly as they found one another once again.

His grip was bruising— not possessive in any way, but desperate, like he had to cling to her for dear life or he wouldn't live to see another day. He held himself inside her, sighing and whimpering into her mouth as she clenched around him. It was so familiar, so comfortable and exhilarating that he almost didn't even want to move. He thought about staying there, still inside her forever.

But as always, Y/N was insatiable.

She wrapped all her limbs around him and held on, rolling her hips and seeking friction in any way possible when she briefly tore her lips away from his.

"I need you, baby, please..."

Even as his heart started to rumble in his chest, well aware of the fact that she still probably didn't love him the way he loved her, Spencer gave her everything. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward again, setting a strong, steady pace that had Y/N's eyes rolling back, and the payoff of hearing her sigh out his name was more than enough to keep him going.

Her nails dug deliciously into his shoulders, the faint sting adding something reminiscent of gasoline to a fire. The flames grew taller and brighter the more he fucked her, and with each gradual increase of volume and intensity, it was a wonder the whole kitchen around them hadn't literally burst into flames.

That's how they always were.

Together like this, so lost in the high of each others' bodies, it was easy to forget the things that made their relationship so hard. It was easy to let all the negativity slip away into the throes of pent-up, well-needed sex. The high they gave each other was merely that— A high...

A distraction.

And while that's exactly what Y/N needed, what she preferred in most cases, it's what Spencer recognized as completely unhealthy, despite his coming back to it every time.

It's also why he dreaded the moment ending. Because once they came down from the high, all that's left would be sadness, regret... Guilt... Their fire burned hot, brightly and wildly, but in the aftermath would lay only a thick layer of deadly smoke between them— hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to breathe in without suffocating.

So they simply burned and burned and burned...

Spencer gripped her so tight he was sure to leave her with bruising. And in turn Y/N dragged her nails down his back and dug them into his ass, her palm laying firmly over the muscles that aided in fucking her into the marbled surface. She whined out curses and moans, and he cried out broken whispers of her name, pet names, and curses alike.

Even once she'd come, he kept going, willing himself to hold on as long as he could. She whined into his ear at the overstimulation. And rather than keeping her legs wrapped around his body, she decided to spread them wide, perching her heels up on the counter as far as she could go and anchoring her fingers through his hair.

And though she might not have had enough orgasms in her to keep up with him, she welcomed it all the same—She welcomed the burn just as much as he did.

Even still, no fire can burn forever.

All concept of time was lost by the time Spencer finally collapsed forward, completely spent and barely standing on weak legs after coming twice. Y/N held onto him tightly to keep him upwards, lightly massaging his scalp with gentle fingers and closing her eyes as she focused on his breathing— the way it fanned over the skin of her bare shoulder and how it sounded, perfectly in time with hers...

It was the most peaceful she'd been in a long time.

She felt him pull out of her, the both of them groaning at the feeling, and a little at the mess it would make.

Spencer gently peeled his body off of hers, sniffing once and avoiding her eyes. "Sorry... You just got out of the shower..."

"It's fine," Y/N breathed. She begged him silently to look her in the eye, but he remained still... Most likely thinking. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

So, in an effort to lighten the mood a bit, she added with a breathy laugh, "Besides... It's nothing I haven't done before."

The callback to his words—and memories of all the times they'd found themselves in this position before—got Spencer to laugh a little, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll grab the wipes?"

"Oh. Sure," Y/N returned with a thankful smile. It was hopeful, too, though the moment he was out of eyesight, it turned rather sad.

She'd known that behavior before, seen that hesitation in his movements and that sound in his voice.

It was guilt.

Regret.

Probably a bit of self-hatred, too.

When he returned, a pile of her clothes in hand and the bag of wipes on top, she took them from him with a kind smile and cleaned herself up while he put his clothes back on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than anything either of them had ever experienced.

So much so, that Y/N couldn't even muster up the courage to ask him to stay for breakfast— and she always did after one of their post-break hookups.

Maybe this time really was different.

Spencer was just at the door again when she stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was so small, he almost didn't hear it. "For bringing me home..."

But he paused, turned, and finally looked her in the eye.

He almost sunk to his knees right there...

Seeing her, arms crossed like she was trying to keep warm, as her head hung low and she looked up at him through sad, hooded eyelids...

It reminded him of the woman he fell in love with.

But in his peripheral, he saw the towel on the floor and was reminded of the woman who'd shattered his heart.

Spencer cleared his throat. Once upon a time he might have returned her thanks with, Anytime, but... Honestly he wasn't sure there could ever be another time. For his sanity, he'd have to avoid 'anytime' at all costs.

So, he settled on, "You're welcome."

He was glad to see her return his kind smile with one of her own, even if it was tainted with sadness, and a small wave goodbye.

Maybe this time it would stick.

Even still, as he closed the door behind him and made his way to the parking lot, for some reason it didn't quite feel like goodbye.

And some of that deadly smoke that settled in his lungs as he drove further and further away from her apartment was inclined to agree.

***

Neither of them could sleep that night.

While Spencer stared out the window of the jet, a little annoyed to be called out on a case so late but at least thankful for the distraction, Y/N laid in bed, staring at the stars on her ceiling.

The same constellation caught their eye.

Columba.

The Dove.

She hadn't even meant to arrange the stars like that, but one night after a date, they were laying in her bed and Spencer pointed out that the cluster of plastic stars right in the corner of the ceiling looked like Columba.

Y/N fondly remembered Spencer telling her about how it was originally named to represent Noah's dove, which searched for dry land during the great biblical flood and returned carrying an olive branch to make news of its recession— of peace at last.

The memory made her smile. It tugged at her heart and made her dreams of him even more vivid.

All the same, Spencer noticed the constellation outside the jet window and remembered that same night. The smile on her face as he told her the story, the feel of her fingers gliding softly over the bare skin of his forearm...

It was the first night since he'd met her that he thought it.

I love her...

He almost told her then, too, but he was afraid it was too soon. So he refrained.

Looking back, Spencer was starting to regret that— Maybe without that extra time together, breaking up would have been easier. But instead, he gave her more time. He gave himself more time to fall deeper in love with her, and in the end it still wasn't enough.

Now they were both looking at the same constellation, one made of plastic and the other of gas, wondering if their flood would ever recede.

And in the event that it did... Who would be the dove, and what would be their olive branch?

“You know I dream about getting back together in the future, I could focus on you. But if I leave right now, I hope that you don’t find someone that touches you the way that I do...”

***

SERIES TAGLIST:   @reidyoulikeabook​ @yourmisosoup​ @fortheloveofcriminalminds​ @bellzo17​ @altsvu​ @flipperpenguins​ @mcumorningstar​

TAGS NOT WORKING: @reid-to-me @totallyclearwitch

[harrywritingsbyme]

Wanna Make A Baby?

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

This One Too

A/N: Older!Harry, dad!Harry, small!Y/n, and breeding kink all rolled into one The fluff is adorable and the filth is filthyyy! Enjoy🙃

It wasn’t uncommon for Harry to dream. He dreamt just about every time he closed his eyes and fell asleep. Dreaming was actually one of the highlights of his night. The first was being able to sleep next to you, and the second would be dreaming. When it came to the subject matter of his dreams, it varied every time. The only constant in his dreams would be you; that’s why he loved it so much. You’d be there right by his side doing whatever you were ‘supposed’ to be doing in his dream. At times, dreaming was a way for his mind to reveal his deepest thoughts and desires. And that’s what was happening this go round with Harry. 

In his dream you were there(of course), along with himself and two other people. As he walks out of the backdoor to you guys’ home and into the spacious backyard, his eyes go straight to a play structure that was in his line of sight. As he emerges from the house even more, he hears a small voice calling out to him. When Harry looks in the direction of the voice, he sees a small child coming down the slide of the large play structure with a big smile plastered across his face. Once the little boy is back on the ground, he immediately sprints over to Harry. While the boy is running over to his father, Harry crouches down so that he’d be on the little boys level and he waits for him. As the boy approaches, Harry’s able to get a better view of his features and he couldn’t believe his eyes. This boy, which Harry confidently presumed to he his son had just about every feature he had when he was that small. The only things that were missing were the straight blonde hair, and the green eyes. Those features were replaced by yours and he couldn’t be happier about that. After talking to the little boy, he agrees to play with him before pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek and sending him on his way so that he could talk to you for a moment. 

As the little boy runs back to the play structure, Harry stands back up and looks to his right, he sees you sitting contently in the shaded lounge area of you guys’ backyard. You had a book in one hand, while the other was delicately placed upon your very swollen and pregnant belly. There were no words that could be used by Harry to effectively and accurately describe the beauty that was radiating off of you. He would talk about how pretty you’d look if you were pregnant but now he was seeing it. The sight of you captivated Harry and drew him in. As he got closer and closer, Harry was able to fully take all of you in. He got to see every little detail. When he was right in front of you, he got to see the small floral print that was littered across your flowy dress. He was able to see your more rounded facial features better. And most importantly, Harry got to see your left hand that was adorned with the glistening diamond ring and wedding band he’d put on your finger almost three years ago resting right on top of the swell of your belly that was temporarily housing his child. He had the perfect view of the two things that symbolized your love for one another. Harry then sits down next to you and he sponges a light kiss to your exposed shoulder. Him doing this results in you sending a soft smile in his direction, which fills his body with a warm feeling. Harry then does the thing that he’d been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on you. He lifts his hand and brings it up to lower it down onto the upper curve your belly.  

Unfortunately, the moment he places his hand on your belly, is the exact moment he wakes up. His eyes shoot open and he’s instantly transported back to reality. He’s in the bed that he was lucky enough to share with you. Once his breathing stabilizes a bit and he takes in his surroundings, Harry’s hand begin to wander. He slowly but surely pulls his arm that was draped across your frame up and he begins to push his hand around your midsection. As he does this, he’s actively searching for some type of a bump. Even if it was a small one. To make sure his mind or hand wasn’t playing tricks on him, Harry brings it all the way up to your side and glides it down to where the lower hem of the shirt you were wearing began. He pushes his hand beneath the fabric and brings it back down to your stomach. It didn’t take long for Harry to realize that you weren’t in fact pregnant and that it was all just a dream.  

That’s the one thing Harry hated about dreams; you always wake up at the best part. When he came to the realization that you weren’t pregnant, his heart sank a little. He didn’t realize how much he wanted his own little family until now. He wanted to watch your body swell as you carried his child. He wanted to watch you be the best mother in the entire world. He wanted to have a child of his own that he could shower with love and affection. Harry wanted to be a dad and wanted to have every last thing he had in his dream. But he didn’t want to have to sleep in order to get it. In that moment, Harry felt like everything was taken from him. The only thing that he had left from that dream is you. This feeling inadvertently caused Harry to tighten his grip on you. Even though he didn’t want to wake you, Harry needed you more than ever right now. He buries his face into your neck and he begins to pepper soft kisses into your skin. He also coos softly into your ear for you to wake up. And it did do the trick.  

“What’s going on?” You grumble through your sleep. You could barely keep your eyes open but you could feel Harry’s mouth moving against your neck and his arm around your waist. 

“Just wanted t’say hello to my beautiful wife.” Harry hums, continuing to keep his face burrowed in your neck. Even though you were one of the sweetest human beings Harry’d ever met, you were still a bit cranky in the morning. And since he intentionally woke you up, he had a little bit of schmoozing to do. 

“Well it better not be before 8 am, because if it is I’ll kill you.” You grumble back to him, moving around a little bit so you could turn yourself towards him. 

“If I tell you that it’s 8:01 will you still kill me?” Harry asks jokingly (kind of). 

“I guess you’re safe.” You concede through a yawn, pushing yourself further into his body. 

“Good, and it’s actually quarter past 10.” Harry continues, looking over at the clock sitting on your bedside table for the actual time.

“You’re in the safe zone now.” You hum happily. “How’d you sleep?” You continue, beginning to feel awake enough to have a conversation with Harry. 

“Slept fine, but I had a pretty interesting dream though.” Harry simply replies. 

“Tell me about it.” You say back, lifting one of your legs and swinging it over his waist. You then push yourself up and over so that you’re sitting on his lap on top of him.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” Harry admires, sliding his hands up underneath your shirt to latch onto your hips. 

“I think so, but I’m always open for compliments.” You smirk, bringing your face down to his.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Harry hums back, slightly lifting his head to peck your lips.

“Thank you baby.” You coo softly. “Now tell me about your dream.” You say excitedly, lifting yourself back up to sit in his lap. Even though you were still a bit tired, you didn’t want to stop talking to Harry. 

“Alright.” Harry sighs, removing one of his hands that were on your hips to help lift himself up a bit. “So to make a long story short, we had a family. We had an adorable son who looked like the both of us, more like me, but still like the both of us, and you were pregnant. Which by the way, you looked even more stunning than I could’ve possibly imagined.” Harry explains, deciding to just give you a quick rundown of his dream rather than go through every last detail.

“That sounds nice babe.” You sigh softly, taking in everything he just said to you. Hearing him talk (and dream) about starting a family with you really warmed your heart. From the onset of you guys’ relationship you knew that you wanted to have a family with Harry. But now after being together for a total of almost 4 years and being married for about a year and a half of them, you were starting to realize that you and Harry were ready to take that next step in your lives and relationship. 

 “Yeah, but it made me think a bit more and I’m starting to feel like m’running out of time.” Harry says on a more sorrowful, but truthful note.  

“I thought the little guys never expire.” You reply, trying to get a better idea of where Harry was coming from. You weren’t expecting such a good and happy dream to make him sad like this.

“I mean late in life Y/n. M’getting older.” Harry explains further with a slightly frustrated huff. 

“You’re in your 30’s Harry.” You say in an attempt to reassure him. 

“Yeah, but 40 is right around the corner.” He reminds you. 

“Then you’ll be a dilf.” You reply, trying to show him the bright side of getting a little older. 

“You’re right, I would be a hot dad.” Harry agrees. 

“Exactly! So being a dad a little bit later in life isn’t so bad babe.” You reason, trying to cheer him up a bit more. You wanted him to really know that there was nothing wrong with being a dad at his age. You weren’t going to tell him this because if you did his head would swell to be the size of an actual planet (even though it wouldn’t take that much considering that he already had a pretty sizable head; upstairs and downstairs), but you thought that him being a bit older than you and being a first time dad was pretty hot. You couldn’t put your finger on why exactly you thought it was hot but you just did. Add onto that the fact that you’re married to him and you have successfully opened the floodgates. 

“You’d be an even hotter mom though. Like milf to the highest power.” Harry says bluntly. 

“Well thank you for your honesty.” You chuckle (and not so secretly roll your eyes) at his statement. After being with Harry for as long as you have, you weren’t shocked in the slightest at his comment. Him not making a comment like that would be more shocking. 

“M’serious babe! You’d even be a milf before the baby even arrived. Like your body is already perfect now, but just imagine how much more perfect you’d look with our baby in here.” Harry rations as he ever so slightly presses his thumbs into the sides of your lower stomach . “You’d be nice and round and delicious. Y’know how much I like having something to grab onto.” He continues. As he talks, his hands move up your sides and right to your chest where he wraps his large hands around your breasts.

“Well those won’t be yours anymore.” You say sternly to him before smacking his hands away through your shirt.

“What about this?” He asks, gliding his hands back down and around to your ass. 

“You can keep that for yourself I guess.” You sigh in compliance. “I swear, it’s so hard sometimes to figure out who’s the oldest in this relationship. For a man thats knocking on 40’s door, I’d expect you to be a little more tame.” 

“What can I say.” Harry begins, tightening his grip on the flesh of your ass before pulling you higher up onto his lap. “I just have a hot wife. Like your personality is amazing and I love you so much for being the sweetest human being alive but you’re gorgeous. I can honestly say that m’gonna want you ten times as much as I already do once you’re actually pregnant.” Harry’s says truthfully. The both of you couldn’t deny that he was in fact telling truth. There were a couple times where he accidentally blurted out how bad he wanted to get you pregnant. 

“Are you just saying all this because you wanna knock me up?” You ask him playfully. 

“Is it working?” Harry asks in response to your question. He meant every last word that came out of his mouth, but he was hoping that it’d soften you up a bit so that you’d give him the green light when it came to commencing the baby making process. 

“Maybe, but you still have a little ways to go.” Now you were just fishing for some praise; and rightfully so. Harry always wanted to hear you praise him. Whether it be in the form of moans, screams, and/or whimpers, or in the form of words; Harry just loved to be praised. Now it was your turn.

“You’d look so beautiful baby. You’re absolutely glowing and gorgeous now, but you’d have an unmatched glow once you’re pregnant.” Harry explains in awe, continuing his “campaign” to butter you up. He honestly couldn’t believe that your already elevated level of beauty could be raised. “But if I’m being honest, m’gonna miss y’tummy like this.” Harry explains the ‘downside’ to your more rounded figure during pregnancy. 

“Why’s that?” You ask confusedly. One minuet he was saying how much more beautiful you’d be if you were pregnant, and now he’s saying that he’s gonna miss your figure now. Which one was it?!

“M’just gonna miss seeing and feeling my cock in y’little tummy. Y’still gonna be irresistible, m’just gonna miss that.” He explains. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll feel it in there. I always do.” You reply to him. When you say that, Harry can feel his cock twitch in his pants. 

“Are you gonna let me put a baby in there?” Harry asks with a little pout. 

“I’d love to have a baby with you baby.” You coo in response, bringing your hands up to his cheeks to squish them together a little. You then bring your face down to his before puckering your own lips and pressing them against his. His lips then begin to move languidly against yours. As the kiss continues, your need for each other grows. You were keeping your bodies as close to each other as possible too. Your arms were now around his neck and his arms were tightly wrapped around your back underneath your shirt to keep you as high up on his lap as possible. As Harry kissed you, you could feel his cock hardening beneath you. He was already a bit swollen from the images of your body that were ingrained in his mind. Now he was getting even harder at the prospect of being able fill you up and get you pregnant. All he wanted to do now as fill you up with his cock, and ultimately fill you up with his baby. 

Keeping one arm wrapped securely around your smaller frame, Harry maneuvers you both so that he’s kneeling on the bed. He then lifts himself up with you still being in his lap and pushes forward so that you’re lying back against the bed with him on top of you. When he does this, you can tell that things are getting heated so you quickly push at his chest to momentarily stop the kiss.  

“Just because were having baby making sex doesn’t mean that I don’t expect you to completely ravish me.” You say pointedly, making sure he knows the exactly what you want. 

“I would never give you anything less.” Harry replies with a smirk before smearing his lips back onto yours. As he kisses you this time, he shifts his weight over onto one arm and he uses the other to push your shirt up your body. Once it was all the way up to your chest, he swiftly pulls away from your face and tugs the shirt off of your body. This leaves you completely bare other than your panties which is the next clothing item he has his sights on. He wastes no time hooking his fingers around the sides and he yanks them down off of you. He instructs you to lift your legs up and once you do this he rips the flimsy material the rest of the way off your body. He tosses them off to the side and he focuses back in on your now exposed body. As he admires all of your features, he imagines what they’d look like once he gets you pregnant. When he looks at your breasts, he thinks about how much larger and sensitive they’d be. He also thought about how the soft and supple flesh would fill his hands perfectly. When his eyes drifted a bit lower to your stomach, he had a very clear picture of how you’d grow as your pregnancy progressed. He was looking forward to seeing your belly grow. When he reaches your thighs and hips, he immediately thought of how much more of a rounded figure you’d have. All of these things made Harry’s mouth water and his cock twitch. “So beautiful.” Harry breathes before bending down to lick into you.

“Oh my god baby!” You moan, feeling his skilled tongue lick into you. You could feel the tip of his tongue circling your entrance and prodding at it. This only made you want and need him even more. “Need you inside me so bad.” You cry out to him, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him up. When you say this, Harry sucks harshly on your clit before coming back up. He then shoves his boxers down to reveal his extremely hard cock. You could see his thick shaft standing proudly between his legs and you could see a small bead of precum beginning to emerge from his slit. Before coming in closer between your legs, Harry pushes back against your thighs so that your legs were spread as wide as possible for him. He places a tight grip on one side of your waist and he wraps his free hand around his cock. 

“Ready baby?” He asks, pushing his cock down your folds and stopping right at your entrance.

“So ready.” You pant, lifting your hips up a little against his cock.

“Good girl.” Harry hums before slowly beginning to push into you. As soon as he begins, your moans get louder.

“Oh my god! You’re so big!” You cry out to him, feeling the very familiar sting that came along with his cock stretching to fit inside your walls. Once he was a little bit inside of you, Harry’s hand leaves his cock and goes to the other side of your waist. Hearing you moan out to him like this from only having about an inch of his cock inside of you unlocked the raw and primal desire Harry had deep down inside of him. Add his desire to get you pregnant to this and he was a beast. Without warning Harry tightly grips onto your waist and he slams the rest of his cock into you. You then let out one of the loudest screams you’d ever made. The slight pain of him slamming all of his cock into you at once felt really good. You felt stretched, and you felt completely full. You could feel this fullness all the way in your stomach.

“Feel me in that pretty little tummy baby?” Harry pants smugly, already knowing the answer to his own question. All you could do was feverishly nod your head against the bed. You were too caught up in how full you were to even form a word in response.

“Good.” He simply states. And with this, he goes straight into pounding into you. The both of you could feel the raw passion radiating off of each other with every thrust. Even though Harry was shoving his cock deep into you over and over again, the both of you had one goal in mind. A baby. That’s what you both wanted, and this was how you two chose to get it. As he continues to thrust into you, Harry lowers himself down onto you. He wants you to really feel how deep he was inside of you. And he wanted to feel it for himself. Even though this is a slight change in position, it doesn’t stop Harry’s hard thrusts. He continues to slam his cock into you over again, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge with each one. You could feel his cock deep inside you, and Harry could feel his cock moving deep inside you. The two of you could also hear each others cries and moans, along with your praises better. You could hear his whimpers and moans at how good you felt around him accompanied with his growls of how he was gonna cum deep inside you. 

All of this made you want to sit on top of him and ride his cock for some reason. Even though your legs were mush, you still wanted to ride him. You wanted him to release every last drop of his cum inside of you and you knew just how to get him there.

“Wanna ride you.” You pant in his ear, continuing to claw at his back as his thrusts continued. Instead of verbally replying to you, Harry immediately lifts himself from you and flips you both over so that your straddling him with is cock still lodged between your walls. You were feeling an extreme warmth and tightness forming in the pit of your stomach and you were going to explode at just about any moment. It doesn’t take more than a second for you to start feverishly moving yourself up and down on his cock. Watching you become so desperate for a release pushed Harry even closer to unloading all of his cum into you.

“M’gonna cum soon baby.” He pants, lifting his hands from your hips to grasp your breasts in them.

“Don’t cum inside me baby. Forgot t’take my pill last night.” You whimper, continuing to push yourself back and forth against him. Even though you were just about completely out of it, you still had a little bit left to mess with Harry. When he heard this, all Harry could think about was the possibility of getting you pregnant right then and there. It was taking so much for Harry to not cum in that moment. While Harry’s trapped in his thoughts, you tug at one of his hands that were clasped around your breasts and you lower it down to your stomach which brings his attention back to you. Your next sentence lights a fire under Harry that pushes him right over the edge. “When you cum in me, our baby’s gonna be right in my tummy and I’m gonna grow and grow with our baby from all your love.” You pant down to him. 

At this, Harry removes his hands from your breasts and then flips you both so that you’re on your back and he’s on top of you. He wastes not time in getting back to slamming his cock into you. As he thrusts, you can feel his cock continuously slamming into the deepest part of you. He watches as your body quivers below him and he could feel your walls contracting around his cock. 

“Cum with me baby.” This was all Harry had to say in order for you to fall apart on his cock. Which in turn caused him to release as well. 

“Fuck!” You scream, feeling not only your extremely powerful release, but also feeling the thick and warm ropes Harry’s cum splashing against your walls.

“That’s it baby, take all m’cum.” Harry pants. He could his body become weaker and weaker with every rope of his cum that flooded your body. “Tighten up f’me baby.” Harry instructs, bring his hand up to your face to give you a couple light taps. Once he feels your walls clenching around him, he brings his arms around you back and he lays himself down so that you’re lying on top of him.

Once he does this, the both of you lay there for a good five minutes. You two were not only trying to gain feeling in your bodies, but you both were wrapping your heads around it all. There was a possibility that you two were going to have a baby. 

“I just know you’re gonna spoil the shit out of this kid.” You sigh, finally coming back to for you guys’ post sex chat. 

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you spoil the shit outta me!” You reply with a laugh. “And I expect nothing less with our baby.” You continue

“Well you’re my baby and you’re going to be carrying our future baby. So you both will be my babies that I love more than life itself which means that I’ll spoil you both rotten. Which speaking of babies, how many are we looking at? I was thinking 2.” Harry ponders.  

“Same.” You agree. “What if we have twins though?” You continue, thinking about all of the possibilities. 

“Then 4 kids.” Harry replies

“When you said that, my uterus trembled.” You tell him truthfully. 

“M’pretty sure that was just an aftershock from my dick.” Harry says proudly. 

“I doubt it.” You say smugly.

“Do I need to come over there and fuck yeh again? Because I will.” Harry says matter of factly.

“You’re getting older babe, don’t want you to kill yourself.” You laugh, bringing your hand up to his cheek.

“You’re gonna get it later.” Harry says, reaching up to pluck your hand off of him. “Just because you’re younger than me, doesn’t mean that I can’t go all day long.”

“I’ll be waiting patiently.” You hum. “Don’t want you to break a hip or anything.”

“Now y’really gonna get it.” Harry grumbles before sending a quick swat to your ass. 

The both of you had a feeling that this wouldn’t do the trick. But judging by how well this step of the baby making process went, you and Harry were more than willing to do it again. 

Masterlist

[lupiningwolves]

The new teacher | Remus Lupin x reader

summary: you were in a relationship with Remus, but things ended after your best friends died. But now you meet him again.

warnings: kissing, mentions of food, none actually just fluff

song: Closure by Hayd (I love his music so much) It‘s the bold text

Y/A is your animagus

—

After the first war, you didn’t think that you‘d ever be happy again. You lost everyone you ever cared for. Marlene, Peter, James and Lily were murdered. Sirius betrayed them, which was probably worse. Then, there was Remus. At that time, the two of you were in a relationship. You dreamt about getting married and having a family after the war. But when you found out what Sirius did, you fell apart.

Now, you were okay again. Dumbledore offered you a job as a Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts, as you yourself had Muggle parents. You had a great relationship with the other teachers. Especially McGonagall, because she was the head of your house when you were at Hogwarts. The only person that made you trouble was Snape. He still wasn’t over Lily or the pranks that you and your friends played at him.

It was the first day of school in Harry‘s third year. He didn’t know that his Mum was your best friend. Or that the person that betrayed him taught you to dance, so that you could teach Remus. You smiled as the memories folded back.

„Is everything alright, Y/N?“ You turned your head to look at McGonagall.

„Hm? Oh, yeah, everything’s fine“, you answered and smiled at her.

„Have you heard that there is a new teacher this year?“

„Yes, in defense against the dark art, right?“ She hummed in agreement and smirked. „I‘m curious who it is.“

„I bet you will be happily surprised.“ She went to get the first years as you walked in the Great Hall. At the teacher‘s table were still the ‚old‘ teachers and nobody new. You took your regular seat next to Professor Sprout. The seat next to you was reserved for the new one.

„Hello, Y/N“, Sprout greeted you.

„Hello“, you smiled.

„I‘m glad to see you. Have you had a nice summer?“

„Yes, just the same old good. It was fine.“ She smiled at you and then her glance was behind you.

You were confused at first, but then realised it was the new teacher. You turned your head and said something before realising who it was. ���Hi, I‘m Y/N-“ Remus too looked surprised to see you. „Remus“, you breathed out.

„Y/N“, he whispered. You got up and without thinking before your action and wrapped your arms around his neck. You were happy that he hugged you back.

„I haven’t heard anything from you in twelve years“, you said and let him go. „How have you been.“

„It was alright. It‘s still … you know?“ His face fell just as yours.

You nodded. „Yes, I know.“ You tried to smile again. „It’s nice that you are here now. I always wondered why Lockhart was here last year. I bet you‘ll be a great teacher.“

„Thanks, Y/N. You‘ve been here for a longer time now?“

„Yes, actually a few years.“ You saw Snape, who looked more dissatisfied than usually.

„Has he changed?“ Remus saw the look and your face and watched Snape now too.

„Nah, he’s still a pain in the arse. But he showers now and then .“ He laughed at your comment. His gaze roamed around the room until it fell on Harry. „It’s Harry.“

„I know. I met him on the train. He looks just like him.“

„He has her eyes.“ A small smile made it’s way on your face. But still, tears were welling up in your eyes. „The girl, that’s Hermoine Granger. She’s the smart one, you’ll see. And the boy is Ron Weasley. You remember Arthur and Molly?“ He nodded. „It’s their son.“

„Another one?“

„Yeah. Bill and Charlie already graduated. Percy is that one.“ You nodded to Percy. „The second year girl is Ginny. And the twins are Fred and George.“ You smiled. „They remind me of James and Sirius.“ You didn’t realise what you said, but felt horrible for doing it. You wanted to apologise, but just as you were about to, McGonagall entered the Great Hall followed by the first years.

You and Remus didn’t talk durning dinner and after it was done, you two went separate ways.

When you were on the way to your room, McGonagall appeared by your side. „How are you? You didn‘t look like you were happy to see Remus.“

„I am, I really am. I just don’t think that we are the same after … what happened“, you answered. „You have firewhisky in your room, don’t you?“

She smirked. „Yes, I do.“ You two went the other direction to her room. She grabbed a bottle and two glasses.

After a few drinks, you were already tipsy. „It’s not like I don’t love him anymore. I do. But maybe we fell in love before we ready.“

„Or you gave up before you were steady.“

„I don’t know“, you sighed. „All I know is that now I‘m alone.“

You let the subject drop. You talked for another hour until you went to bed.

~~~

Weeks passed by and you never really talked to Remus, even though you dearly wanted to. You wanted him to talk to you, hold you and be there for you like he had done before. But you didn’t.

The first full moon appeared. Remus looked sick and could barely stand on his feet. But what he didn’t know is that you became an animagus before you broke up. You hated knowing that he was alone during the worst. So you did what his friends did.

When the sun set you excused yourself from dinner and went to the Whomping Willow. You turned to your animagus form and entered the Shrieking Shack. Remus looked confused and surprised, but didn’t care much, because his transformation began.

Soon, a werewolf stood in front of you. The night was alright, he didn’t attack you and trusted you more and more.

You woke up before Remus and quickly made your way back to the castle before he woke up. You didn’t want to explain him that the Y/A was you.

„I know it was you“, Remus whispered in your ear at dinner.

„What?“

„The Y/A last night, it was you.“ You acted like you didn’t know what he meant, but he smiled. „I know it was you, Y/N. I know you. You should’ve told me“, he said.

„I wanted to before we broke up“, you said. He looked hurt. His gaze wandered to McGonagall and she nodded. He took your hand and led you out of the Great Hall.

„Remus, what are you doing?“, you asked, giggling like the girl you were when you played pranks with the other Marauders. He turned his head to you and smiled. Then, you came to his room.

„Do want a tea?“

You laughed harder now, but he didn’t understand why. „You asking me now if I want tea?“ He shrugged his shoulders and nodded. „Alright. Do you still have so much chocolate?“

„Of course I do. I could never live without it“, he smiled and made both of you a cup of tea. While the water was boiling, he grabbed chocolate and gave it to you.

„Thanks“, you said.

He sat down at the table, you took the seat in front of him. There was silence, you could just hear how the two of you sipped your tea.

„Y/N, I am so sorry“, he said eventually. „I know I should’ve wrote you. I shouldn’t have broke up with you in first place. I guess sometimes you find thе one but the timing's off and the place is wrong.“

You were shocked by what he said. And confused in first place. „W-What are you trying to say?“

„Maybe we would‘ve been closer if we were a couple years older. But we are now.“

„I - Remus, what?“ You were more than confused now. But sure happy about what he said. „I never stopped loving you, you know?“, you said.

„Me neither.“ You had no idea what to say. You two just confessed your love to each other. But a smile crept across your face.

When Remus stood up, you did the same. In a matter of seconds, his hands were on your cheeks, your arms around his neck to pull him down to you and his lips pressed against yours.

It was like you dreamt of it the last days. How it was back then. But you were sure that it lasted for forever now.

[txylorwrjtes]

Give me attention

Request: hi i hope you’re doing well :D i haven’t watched supernatural in FOREVER but somehow i managed to dream about dean yesterday .... isn’t that funny? anyways, i miss dean and i was hoping u could do a x reader with him! just a cute fluff jealous dean if that’s alright :D i really wanna laugh and at the same time gush 😊 By: @malfoys-demigod​ I hope you enjoy(:

Pairing: Dean x reader

Summary: Y/N has been spending more of her time with Miracle, and Dean isn’t having any of it.

Warning(s): Fluff, little bit of humor, little bit of language, spoilers for season 15 if you haven’t watched yet.

Ever since Miracle had been let into the bunker, you were a mushy gushy mess. It wasn’t every day that you were able to see a dog, and with the life you and the Winchester brothers were living, it wasn’t safe for a pet to be roaming around your home. But with Chuck now gone, and the monsters were rarely popping up, your husband, Dean, seemed to have been a little relaxed about having one. He never seemed like an animal person over the years that you’ve known him, so you were a little surprised when this four legged fur baby came running in with a wagging tail and a smile on its face. Your new dog was even able to sleep on the bed, right in between you and the older Winchester. 

That was, until your husband found you growing really attached to the dog. Your cuddles with him would be only for a short amount of time, right up until your dog would come scratching on your closed door, signaling for you to let him in. You would do it, even after being asked not to, and you’d go right to giving all of your attention to him. Dean would never dare say anything, though. He knew how much you loved dogs, and how often you’ve dreamt of having one. Just seeing the smile on your face whenever you were petting Miracle was enough to keep him going through the day. 

But he decided that enough was enough when your anniversary had rolled around. You might’ve gone out to eat and sat on the hood of his car while you watched as the sun went down, but the second you got back home, your attention was back to the dog. Dean wanted to end the night loving up on you, but instead he came into your shared bedroom only to find that you were sitting on the floor with Miracle, teaching him all kinds of tricks. 

“Good job, buddy!” You praised him when he had done one of his tricks correctly; shaking paws. Sure, it wasn’t much, but it sure was enough for you to feed him a treat and give him a good belly rub while you continued on with your praise in the baby voice you’d always use when you spoke to him. “Who’s a good boy?” You asked him, your lips stretching into the widest smile when you could see one of his own. “You are! You’re a good boy!”

With narrowed eyes, Dean folded his arms over his chest and quietly huffed. Damn dog is stealing my girl. Was he really jealous of a dog? Of course he was. But he wasn’t going to admit to that. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Your husband finally spoke up after a couple of minutes of just lingering in the doorway. He never caught your attention at first, up until now. You stopped petting Miracle for a moment and raised a brow up at him. “Sammy isn’t doing too well.. You know, his depression has been bad today.” He lied to you. 

And of course, you knew that he was, because he’s been out all day with Eileen. “De, your brother didn’t get back home until an hour ago.” You reminded him. “I even got to talk to him before he went to bed and when I did, he seemed perfectly good to me.” 

Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course you just had to talk to his brother tonight. So, if that lie wasn’t going to work, he was going to try a different approach. “Okay, maybe Sam isn’t depressed.” He said. “But maybe Cas wouldn’t mind taking him off of our hands for a bit.”

For a moment, you didn’t say anything. You didn’t even blink. All you did was stare at him like he had two heads.

“Dean.. Cas is in heaven.” Again, you reminded him of recent events. 

“He-” You watched as your husband tilted his head, pretending he was confused about how this all happened. “He is?”

You slowly nodded your head. At first, you wondered why he was acting like this, but then you had a rather suspicious feeling of something that had the ends of your lips twitching into a small smile. “Are you jealous of Miracle?” You asked him, your own head tilting in curiosity. Of course, this had the man letting out a fake laugh as he shook his head.

“Me? Jealous of a dog?” For a moment he was acting as if you were the insane one, but then his laughter stopped and his face fell into a pout, his bottom lip sticking out and he did his absolute best at the puppy dog eyes Sammy always pulled whenever he was in trouble, or was trying to get somebody to listen to him. “Yeah.” You couldn’t help but let out a quiet giggle at what the man had just admitted, before you pushed yourself up to your feet.

“Why are you so jealous of a dog?” You asked.

“It should be clear why I’m so jealous, Y/N.” Dean, like a little kid, whined before stomping over to the bed and flopping down right onto it. You folded your arms across your chest and sat down on the edge right next to him. “Ever since I brought him into the bunker, it’s been Miracle this, Miracle that. I was able to tolerate it, but tonight’s our anniversary, and just when I thought we could end the night with some sexy time, you’re in here shaking paws with the damn dog!” You opened your mouth to say his name, but you found yourself being cut off as he continued with his rambling. “And lately, I’ve just been thinking, what does he have that I don’t have? Is it because he’s more handsome? Does he give better kisses? Better cuddles? Why do I have to compete?”

“I shouldn’t have to compete, though. Y/N, Miracle eats, he sleeps, goes number one and two on the grass and sometimes, when he’s up for it, likes to play.” Dean said. “I do that too, so why am I just not enough?”

“Dean, you do know that he’s a dog, right?” You reminded him. But you were finding this more hilarious than annoying. 

“You don’t know that, though!” He suddenly blurted out as he quickly sat up. “For all we know, he could’ve been a prince, but a witch cast a spell on him that turned him into a dog. I mean- he was a stray and didn’t have a collar on him when I found him.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re forgetting that the only reason you found him was because everyone on earth had vanished, Dean.” You said. But that still didn’t get rid of the frown that was stretched across his face. You leaned in close to him, gently nudging your nose against his cheek as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Baby, Miracle might be a good boy, but you’re my best man. Not only are you my husband, but you’re my best friend, too. No dog could ever take your place.”

It took a few seconds, but your husband’s lips slowly turned into the widest grin. “You promise?”

You hummed happily, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I promise.”

“Okay, now I’m feeling better.” He said, turning his head to face you. You couldn’t help but smile at him all before he cupped both sides of your face into the palm of his hands and pulled you into a passionate kiss. Unfortunately for Dean, Miracle started barking, and the man pulled away to say just one more thing. “Hey, you stole my wife from me, I’m stealing her back for the night so don’t you go yelling at us.”

Somehow, it seemed that Miracle had understood everything the older Winchester had said. You could hear him whimper as his tail tucked in between his legs and he walked out of the room, leaving the two of you to go back to kissing.

Miracle was heartbroken.

Because little did you know, he actually was a prince.

~~~

Dean babes:

Message me if you’d like to be tagged here

[padme-amitabha]

Anidala Week 2021

Day 4: Modern AU OR Favorite Trope

I have always been fascinated by the concept of twin flames so here’s my AU with twin flames Anidala. A twin flame is a kind of soulmate so this counts as a soulmate AU. 

Half of My Soul

“I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything.

Maybe we’re from the same star.”

― Emery Allen

I. 

I loved you before I met you. I think I have been in love with you for a very long time – since the beginning of time, really. I didn’t know what you looked like and I often wondered about you as a child. I would look around the other girls my age and you just weren’t there. My other half – the missing piece to my soul.

It hurt – just a bit – that you weren’t around when I needed you as a lonely child but I was determined that you would show up some day so kept on looking. And then I finally saw you. Not in school, not in the junkyard I often played in, and not in my neighborhood. I saw you much more closely – in a dream.

In my dream, I worked at a repairs shop but I was a slave. And you were an angel in the form of a girl. You were older than me and it made sense to me then why I had never found you before.

“Padmé Naberrie,” you say and the name resonates within me. Of course, that was your name. What else could it be?

Your name is etched into my very bones and imprinted on my very soul. Everything about you – from your big, brown eyes to the little beauty spot on your cheeks still burned in my memory.

In my dream, you were a queen from an elysian world and it seemed like you descended from the heavens when I met you. I was a mere slave, smitten by your ethereal beauty.

You have haunted my dreams since I was a child. I wondered if I did the same in yours.  

Amidst the crowd of people, my eyes sought out yours. I knew you were the one I've been looking for my entire life. The moment our eyes locked, I felt complete. Whole. Something I have never felt my entire life.

My life couldn't be any better - I am a Harvard graduate in mechanical engineering, I have a loving mother, a friendly stepfather, a supportive best friend and yet life has always been far from satisfying. Was it because I was only half of a soul waiting to be reunited with its missing half?

Your beautiful brown eyes sparkled with a hint of recognition. Your face was as familiar as my own.

I longed to tell you that you looked mesmerizing in that white dress. The rest of the world - this noisy bar - faded away once I had laid my eyes on you. It finally like coming home.

"You're the angel, aren't you?" I whisper.

You laugh and the sound is just as melodic as I remembered it.

"I have never heard that from a stranger," you say with a hint of amusement.

“But we aren’t strangers,” I say.

"No. We've met before," you say with a mischievous smirk. You knew exactly what

“Once upon a dream,” we say in unison.

Looking on you was a strange feeling – I saw a part of myself in you. It was as if the Universe had shifted around me and I had finally discovered my place in it.

"I remember you. Though your hair was much longer when I saw you," you remark.

The last time I saw you (alive), you were miserable. Tears had stained your cheeks and you were been desperately clawing at your throat. And after that, I only had the opportunity to see you in holograms. When you looked like you were drowning in a sea of flowers as six guaalars took you back home. The others were faint images of the times you were happy.

"Last I remember, I was a sad, sad man. You know why?" I asked as I played with a loose strand of your hair.

I know why, Anakin. But I let you finish anyway.

My heart beats just a little faster as I gaze into your solemn blue eyes. There’s a hint of sadness in them. I have seen that look before.

"Because I had lost you."

I gazed at the man I had loved in countless lifetimes. He looked like a lost child. There was a vulnerability in him that I had not seen in most men. He was beautiful as tragedies often were.

How could one feel so complete and lost at the same time?

I remember the last time I had closed my eyes because I was exhausted and it was hurting to stay alive. My time was over, I knew it but yours wasn’t. You were going through so much more pain but you had to live on and fulfil your destiny.

I always had faith in you, Anakin. And I told that to your Master and I whispered it in to our son. He had your eyes.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth for he knew what I was thinking. We had shared a mental connection in our other lives as well.

I laced my hand in yours and tiptoed to reach your ears.

"But not this time,” I say.

Your smile is as radiant as the sun itself. When you smile, you remind me of that little boy I dreamt of.

“Not this time,” you echo.

"What do you say we leave this place and go somewhere more private?"

"I would like that,” I say with a smile.

You tremble slightly and I can tell you’re tipsy. I look at the girls who had accompanied me. I gesture them to enjoy the rest of the night by themselves. 

“I am not letting you drive home,” I say. "Tell me the story of the Queen and the slave boy again."

"You already know."

"I do. But I would like to hear from you all the same."

We found each other again for a reason. I’ve always known we would find ourselves in each other’s arms in the end. Perhaps, the Universe wants to make up for all the suffering it had put us through in the past. Perhaps, this was the happy ending we have always wanted. It was a faint hope but I saw it burning in his eyes as well and we held onto that hope. For without hope, we had nothing.

 II.

“Anakin.”

Odd how a simple word – just some wind, really – was enough to rattle him. Hearing it from surviving Jedi would fuel his rage and brought forth denial if it came from his Master but, when she said it, it haunted him. Her voice could calm him from even the deepest rage. She still had that effect on him, even when she was dead and cold in the grave.

He stared straight ahead, determined not to turn around and meet her eyes. This ghost from Vader’s past from appear at different times in his life – briefly, unexpectedly. Even in death, she had never left him.

Vader had many ghosts and he never hesitated to crush them down for ghosts had no power of their own. They were petty annoyances and reminders of a life he had long left behind. But he happened to love this particular ghost and so he let come and go as she pleased, not quite certain if she was a figment of his imagination.

"Anakin."

She would whisper so softly he would wonder if she was there at it. Perhaps it was just the wind hissing.

He didn't respond. During her visits, she spoke very little. On the rare occasions he had dared to look on her face, it was the same pained expression on Mustafar. Her last moments…

He kept his silence, letting his loud rhythmics breaths drown out her weeping. He decided to take a look. After all, her grief meant his grief, and that would make him a better Sith, as his Master wanted.

He expected to see Padmé with braids, her belly swollen – the way she was on Mustafar or a shriveled, decayed corpse as she was in the nightmares that plagued him every night.

But she was just a child – the way he had first met her. She wasn’t looking at him kindly and Vader knew he deserved that look. He was her murderer, after all.

"You weren't like this," she said in her cold, regal voice. It had always fascinated him how a child could appear so authoritative.

He looked away but there was no escape from her. The Padmé that stood before him was in her yellow gown – the way she had been on the meadow in Naboo.

“I knew our love would destroy us,” she said in a kinder voice than the younger Padmé with a hint of sadness. Vader now addressed them both.

"This is what I have become without you,” he rumbled.

"You aren't the same," said child Padmé petulantly.

"Why? Why did you change?" asked the elder. She had the same look she had when she would be frustrated with her work. His Padmé...the one who was his wife would have been gentler. But he remembered she had a temper in her younger years.

"How can I be the same without you? We were two halves of the same soul and without you, I'll never be whole again...I won't ever be Anakin again."

"Without Padme, there is no Anakin. You were me, Padmé. You and I we were the same person. You were trapped by the Republic just as much as I was trapped by the Jedi. We led the same lives. With you died one half of my soul. And now I'm just what's left of me."

The Padmés faded away. Only this time his wife was in their place and she had flowers in her hair.

"Have faith my love," she said as she drew closer. The words sounded hauntingly familiar but he couldn’t remember why. It had been so long…

She put a ghostly hand on his face though he couldn't feel it. He tried to clutch her hand with his gloved ones only to let it pass through the phantom. "We'll be whole, once again. Just you wait," she said as she disappeared into nothingness.

Vader sighed. His other half had proved to be the best thing in his life and also his greatest misery.

Vader never hallucinated his dead wife again but when she did return, she did in the form of a fierce young princess and a young farm boy from a distant planet.

III.

In a different timeline, Anakin Skywalker lay entangled with his wife. She was fast asleep in his arms but sleep didn’t come as easily to him. Anakin always had a hard time falling asleep. The war had made it very difficult to be vulnerable. He knew he was safe at Coruscant and yet he just couldn't let all his worries fade away.

He gently disentangled himself from his wife and watched her sleep peacefully, her curls spread all over the pillow, her expression as soft as an angel's. He paced back and forth their apartment and settled in front of the large windows in Padmé’s apartment. The city never slept but the traffic was less in Coruscant's skylanes at this hour so it was easy to see the stars clearly.

He remembered watching them from his own small hut back on Tatooine. The worlds that had seemed so foreign back then seemed so familiar now. It was the place he grew up in he had trouble remembering.

"Anakin, what are you doing?" asked Padme softly, her eyes still sleepy.

"I’m sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No, of course not," she said as she rubbed her eyes. "You should get some sleep."

"I just can't. It's hard to relax," he explained.

She nodded with understanding as she took a seat beside him. She placed a hand on his shoulders and rubbed it gently. "Alright, then. I'll sit with you."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. It's not that I get to be with my husband every day."

They sat together and intertwined their hands. "Do you...you ever wonder if...we had never met?" Padme asked.

"No. I don't. Because we were always meant to meet. Don't you believe that, angel?"

"I-I do but that's wishful thinking on my part."

"No. it isn't. My connection to the force is so strong I just know we were meant to be together. It has always been our destiny."

"Mhmm," she hummed, "Wonder what destiny has in store for us."

“Whatever comes our way, we’ll face it together,” assured Anakin as he kissed her cheek. The couple spent the rest of the night sitting in comfortable silence and basking in each other’s presence.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Lucien’s R&S - The victim who disappeared (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (消失的遇难者) was part of the Dream Heart Lake event which will unlikely come to EN🍒

Angst warning!

More Lucien R&S from this event:

> regarding what books don’t say (important to read this first!)

> my love rival older brother

> the victim who disappeared ♡

> since that rainy night

[ Chapter One ]

Recently, the girls in the precinct have been addicted to a variety program called “Miracle Finder”. When it’s time for lunch, there’d be a bunch of them piling in front of the computer screen, watching and exclaiming.

Filled with curiosity, I lean over to take a look. The girls immediately stop me, recommending it fervently.

“Captain Fan, do you watch this program too?”

“This week’s guest is Professor Lucien. He looks so handsome!”

I shake my head in resignation. “You girls only know how to look at appearances the whole day.”

“Captain Fan, you can’t say that! Our Professor Lucien became a neurologist at a very young age.”

“Exactly, exactly! He’s also a guest professor at Loveland University!”

“Sigh. If I had such a handsome teacher back then, I’d have definitely worked hard.”

Watching the girls chat, I can’t help but tease them. “Don’t all of you have an even more handsome-looking superior? It isn’t too late to start working now.”

The moment I finish speaking, their exclamations completely cover my words. Seems like the young and gifted “Professor Lucien” they’ve been talking about has appeared on the screen. Seeing his refined manner and gentle appearance, I actually feel a sense of familiarity.

“Hurry and look! Even Captain Fan is dazed!”

“We were right, weren’t we? Doesn’t he have an especially good temperament!”

The crinkled and smiling eyes of that boy in my memories overlap with the person on screen. That unresolved case which almost disappeared finally has a favourable turn after so many years. Even though I know that the chances are slim, I still wish to grasp this new lead.

“What’s his name again?”

“Oh? Wasn’t Captain Fan completely uninterested just now?” The girls notice the change in my attitude, becoming enthusiastic in an instant. They start introducing him, their words pouring out in an unceasing torrent. “His name is Lucien, a neurologist who returned after studying abroad. I heard that the thesis he released at twenty was published in an internationally renowned science magazine...”

“Isn’t he just as intelligent as that boy?” I mutter softly, the hope in my heart brightening by a few notches.

Although the name doesn’t fit, if that child managed to survive after that incident 19 years ago, it feels as though he would have gone down such a life path.

“Uncle has worked very hard. Kid, have you been doing your best over the years too?”

Even though I’m unable to find concrete evidence to make public the incident 19 years ago, the least I could do is to shed some light on the truth concerning that kid and his family. 

In the midst of a cruel reality mixed with tears and blood, and the truth which cannot be found, the me of the past finally decided to step out of the days of living in a wasteland, plunging deeper into a depthless pool of truth.

-

[ Chapter Two ]

At night, I dreamt of that day yet again.

It was that boy’s 7th birthday.

Early in the morning on that day, he had headed out with his parents. Before he left, he specially gave me an invitation card to his birthday party in the evening.

He rarely revealed the innocent smile a kid should have. Instead, his mouth remained merciless, saying something unadorable. “I’ve already spoken with my dad. Tonight, he can tell you how to play chess. If you don't improve in your chess skills, I won’t know how to play with you anymore.”

I snatched the invitation card in his hand in an impolite manner, deliberately provoking him. “You’ll have to make do with it, little genius. I’m the only one who’s willing to play with you.”

In a huff, he ran over to where his parents were waiting for him not afar off. Taking their hands, they left while talking and laughing.

I rarely saw this busy couple accompanying their child outside over the weekend. They must have taken a day off from work specially for his birthday.

“Kid, have fun!”

“Mm.”

“Also, happy birthday!”

“Thank you, Brother Fan.”

His parents and him turned around to wave goodbye at me, the three of their smiles under the sunlight, sparkling and bright.

On hindsight, I should have given him his present then.

It was a sci-fi novel which was popular amongst kids, and I’d frequently see children gathered in the yard discussing it together. Although I didn’t know if that kid liked reading other books aside from those profound science materials, I felt it wouldn’t hurt for him to engage with things people his age liked.

He was still a child. From the bottom of my heart, I hoped that he could live a little more like a child.

However, this wish that I never said aloud was completely shattered by that car accident.

That evening, which should have filled with presents, cake, and the sound of birthday songs, only welcomed pattering and whistling rain, as well as blood stains on the asphalt road which couldn’t be washed off even with a scrub.

Sirens from the ambulance and police cars intertwined. Mixed with the sharp cries of passers-by, they composed the saddest and shrillest background music.

-

[ Chapter Three ]

“Oh my goodness, that’s so horrifying! Those two people are covered in blood!”

“Let’s leave, it’s too pitiful.”

The crowd in the surroundings remarked in soft voices, showing sympathy towards the victims they weren’t acquainted with.

The incident happened on the road outside our estate. After receiving the task, I rushed over to the scene. When I saw the names of the casualties, I was both shocked and had a flicker of hope in my heart, praying that they were people who happened to share the same names. However, after confirming the identities of the two bodies underneath the white cloth, coldness rushed through my body--

Those were the parents of the little genius.

In just the blink of an eye, the couple who had greeted me with warm smiles had turned ice cold, lying in a pool of blood. I didn’t dare to imagine how such a young kid would be able to face such a cruel reality, and my insuppressible tears, along with the rain, drenched my face.

The captain came over to pat me on the shoulder, consoling me with a lowered voice. “Settle your emotions, and do a proper investigation.”

I nodded my head silently, lifting my hand to wipe my tears away. After that, I started taking down records of what the witness had to say.

The witness was a boss of a news-stand nearby, around 45 years of age. He was in a state of fright, hugging his elbows and shivering.

I asked if he needed a rest before supplementing the record, but he shook his head repeatedly, saying that it’d be better to record it early, since he wouldn’t want to recollect such a horrifying image afterwards.

According to his description, the cause of the accident was a large truck which had lost control. It was yet to be confirmed whether the reason for the loss of control was due to a human error, or the slippery road.  

After realising that there was an issue with the truck, the driver had frantically tried to turn. But in the end, it still ended up hitting the family of three who were walking on the zebra crossing.

The three of them were sent flying a great distance. The places where they fell turned into pools of blood not long after.

As for what happened after, the boss of the news-stand expressed that he didn’t pay attention due to fright.

After handing him over to the medical personnel to console his emotions, I continued making notes for the next witness.

The images described by all the witnesses were virtually the same. From the various indications of the scene, this tragedy could have been a normal traffic accident.

When I finished making the records, the scene was more or less cleaned up. After wrapping up my work, I inquired about which hospital the boy was taken to. But I was notified that no injured child was found on the scene.

“How’s that impossible! That sketchbook over there belongs to him! That boy suffered such grave injuries - where else could he have gone!”

Agitatedly, I pointed at the exhibits collected, one of them a sketchbook coated in blood. At a glance, I recognised it as the book that boy would carry with him all day. That’s because the flower garland on the cover was a work he was proud of, and it was exactly the same as the one drawn on his birthday invitation card this morning.

He was definitely at the scene when the accident happened. Also, he definitely couldn’t have left on his own.

“Has the scene been investigated? Are there any other suspicious areas or areas we’ve overlooked?”

"Didn’t all the witnesses say there was a family of three at the scene? There’s definitely one more kid!”

“How much time passed after the incident before the scene was cordoned off? Could the kid have been taken away before that?”

I tossed out points of contention in succession, but the expressions of my colleagues remained confused and blank. In a moment of anxiousness, I burned with impatience and went to check the surveillance tape on my own. However, I didn’t notice any suspicious people entering or exiting the scene before or after the incident.

I didn’t have a single clue regarding his whereabouts, and could only hold onto hope as I contacted his relatives one by one.

They were generally not from the city. Most of them didn’t even know that the family had met with an accident, much less the whereabouts of the boy. After consoling their emotions, I hang up dejectedly, turning back to the scene of the incident.

The police cars stationed around earlier had long since left, and traces left on the asphalt road had been washed clean by the rain. Everything returned to peace and quiet, as though nothing had happened. Only the lingering grief served as a reminder that it wasn’t over yet--

The sudden car accident, the missing child, the ignorant relatives - all of these seemed to remind me that this wasn’t a simple traffic incident.

Without any orderliness, I started investigating the vicinity, imagining countless times for that smart fellow to suddenly lunge out from a dark corner, telling me that this whole thing was just a prank he pulled.

However, that didn’t happen. Even after checking every corner of the large streets and small alleys, I ended up empty-handed.

In the end, I sat down tiredly along the side of the road, looking at the pitch-black sky as it started turning into a grey dawn.

Although it was dawn, the truth of the matter would forever be hidden in that dark night.

All my hopes and hopelessness fell into pieces, leaving behind a maze of doubts, akin to a dense fog.

-

[ Chapter Four ]

On the morning of the second day, without even washing my face, I headed to the news-stand to buy various newspapers, looking through them seriously to search for any reports on the matter.

As it was temporarily classified as a normal traffic accident, the length of all the articles were very short. Also, they were placed in nondescript corners.

I closed the final set of newspapers, realising in disappointment that none of them mentioned the missing child.

It’s as though he had evaporated from the world. Aside from me, no one else remembered his existence. 

I couldn't stand for the case to be closed just like this, and finally understood the anxiety family members felt when they asked for our help in conducting investigations. As long as it was related to a living person, there wasn’t anything not worth investigating.

With a determination to investigate the matter and leave no stone unturned, I once again returned to the scene of the accident. I asked around the small shops along the roadside, hoping to obtain just a tiny hint.

Heaven will not disappoint the person who tries. From the lips of an owner of the shop facing the zebra crossing, I received an important lead which wasn’t brought up before - a black car.

“When the accident occurred, I was busy, and even had a scare when I heard the truck braking. By the time I set down my stuff to watch, the police cars and ambulance weren’t here yet. But a black car was stationed here for quite some time.”

Regarding this lead, I first expressed shock. Then, I had doubts.

Based on the surveillance tape I watched on the day of the incident, no suspicious cars appeared. If this person deliberately toggled with the surveillance footage to capture the kid, the remaining investigations would likely be a bitter struggle.

“Why did he take the kid away?”

“Could there be a conspiracy behind this?”

That black car had taken both the truth and that boy, disappearing into thin air.

The scene I had witnessed, the images depicted by the witnesses, the true footage of that surveillance tape, pieces of evidence which weren’t able to fit together, created paradoxes. The entire incident was akin to a vicious cycle, tangled and complicated, twisting and turning, unable to grasp a hint of it, and left one spinning around on a superficial level.

In the end, the police classified this matter as a normal traffic incident. And I could only continue investigating in the dark.

-

[ Chapter Five ]

Many years passed. From a small police officer who had accomplished nothing, I struggled and worked hard, becoming a captain who solved countless cases.

Even so, the unresolved case concerning that boy hasn’t had a breakthrough.

Over ten years, I found some leads, but they would ultimately be flawed fragments. And along with the passage of time, they’ve eroded even more.

This time, the person called “Lucien” was probably the finally hope of this case.

-

I visit Loveland University over the weekend, asking the kids about this “Professor Lucien”, but receive scant results even after a long while. He’s indeed very popular amongst students. But regarding his personal life, everyone expressed that they weren’t clear about it.

“Then again, which student would be so free to ask about a teacher’s personal life?” With a wry smile, I take a seat at the resting area of the math building. Without realising it, someone sits beside me. While feeling puzzled over why someone would choose to sit next to a middle-aged uncle when there are so many other empty chairs around, I see the face of the person I was looking for.

“Lucien?!”

“I heard from the students that you were asking about me. So I thought, why not let you ask me in person directly?” His tone is as calm as what I saw in the program, but I can vaguely sense a hint of irritation.

“Please don’t get the wrong idea. I didn’t mean to offend you.” I find an excuse on the fly. “It’s just that after watching your program, there were some issues I didn’t quite understand, and wanted to consult you.”

He listens patiently to the many unorganised questions I have, and explains them thoroughly. That look of concentration makes me think about the boy again.

Finally, I can no longer contain myself. When I’m about to bid farewell to him, I ask, “It might be a little presumptuous of me, but could I ask if you’ve always been living abroad since young?”

There doesn’t seem to be much change in his expression, but he raises his eyebrows slightly.

“In that case, could I be also be presumptuous and ask why you have such a question?

Since things have already reached this stage, I decide that there’s no longer a need to conceal anything. So I tell him the honest truth. “You kind of resemble a kid I used to know, but he’s gone missing.”

Upon hearing this, a sadness dyes his eyes in an instant. He lowers his eyes, his expression sad, as though he had also once known that pitiful child. “I feel deeply sorry for that child... but it’s a shame that I’m not the person you’re looking for. From the moment I could remember, I’ve been living in an orphanage.

“Ah... sorry about that.” I feel uncomfortable knowing that I’ve rubbed someone else’s sore spot. As though he’s talking about matters pertaining to somebody else, he says relaxedly, “It’s all right. I hope you can find that child soon.”

His eyes really do resemble the boy. It’s just that he’s much more modest in how he conducts himself. I increasingly hope that if the boy were still living on this earth, he must definitely be a person who is just as well-liked.

“Many years have passed. To tell you the truth, I think whether or not I find him isn’t that important.” I look into the distance, making a wish from the bottom of my heart. “I just hope that in a corner of the world, he’s living happily and well.”

After Lucien hears this, he chuckles lightly. “I’m almost envious of that boy - that he was able to meet a kind-hearted person who would think of him even after such a long time.”

[conaionaru]

The drowned girl

Little Menace

Synopsis: What if Siggy never died and was raised by loving parents that cared for her and taught her the way of the Gods? What if the little Völva was raised by Floki and Helga (because fuck Bjorn!)

Warnings: canon divergence (duh), violence, past child neglect, child abandonment, bad parenting

I don’t own the gifs.

Bjorn looked at Floki and Helga, waiting for the good news to be said. If the boatbuilder kept his promise and built him the means to leave, Bjorn Ironside could sail to an unknown land and discover what no one had dreamt of.

"What do you say, Helga? What shall we tell him?" Floki mocked his tone, teasing, trying to drag the pretense on.

Bjorn looked at the kind blonde. "We think that it won't be long until you have boats ready and able to take you to the Mediterranean Sea!"

The Ragnarsson lit up at the information until Floki scoffed at the Viking's excitement. "If it exists."

"Of course, it exists!"

"It's just a map, Bjorn. Marks on a paper. A child could have drawn it." Floki cut him off, causing the younger boy to frown. "How can we know if it's real?"

"I learned from my father. The only way to tell if something is real..." He laid a small boat on in the water and pushed it away from the shore. "Is to sail there. I hope you'll come with me, Floki."

"Are you joking? The lure of an imaginary land. Traveling somewhere that doesn't exist?" Floki laughed in his mad way and grinned happily. "Of course, I am coming."

"And I hope you will come too, Helga." The blonde healer smiled at them, amused.

"Well, if Floki is mad enough to go, then I guess I will follow."

Bjorn cheered up at the answer, happy to know that his father's friends would be there to see him achieve his dream. What bothered him, though, was the silence. Something was off. "Where is she?" The tall Ragnarsson looked around them and up the trees, looking for a familiar face or shape. But he saw nothing.

"Went to collect some herbs a while ago," Helga explained, frowning at the relieved sigh the boy let out in return.

A girl in a long scarf sat by the shore, the dark teal fabric hiding her hair from the gentle breeze that swept by. Her bare feet were burrowed in the sand, while her hands held the scarf in a death grip.

The waves mercilessly hit the shore, washing away any imperfections from the sand. But the girl sat there, unmoving. If it wasn't for the rise and fall of her chest, she might have seemed dead. Her lips are in a thin line, a vertical stripe drawn down her chin, with another symbol between her eyes, strands of blonde hair sway in the wind around her face.

But the most shocking feature of this girl are her kohl-lined eyes, as white as milk, unblinking and unseeing. She appears to be in a trance, the world passing by her as she sits there—the calm before the storm.

Despite her ears being deaf to the world, she still heard voices, painful screams, and the hissing of snakes sounded in her head. She saw a snake curled around an arrow, drowning in a river of blood. She could feel the red liquid against her bare feet, wetting her dress.

A raven croaked over her head, drawing her from her state. With the blink of an eye, her white pupils changed to blue, the same shade as the waters before her. She looked up at the position of the sun and sighed in annoyance. With some difficulty, she rose to her feet with a bunch of flowers in one of her hands.

The blonde girl walked up a hill, pulling down the scarf from her head, her wild hair flying behind her in a fury. She sat upon the mountain, putting a bouquet of wildflowers on a small grave, pulling the weeds out, and tossing it away.

The painted girl patted the child's grave, lovingly, and sighed. "I would sing to you, but you have suffered enough, no? I am sailing away soon to Bjorn's imaginary sea. Don't miss me too much."

She left the hill, passing by some playing children and fishers who run around in excitement or got ready to work. She ignored the noise around her, striding towards her goal—the forge. The people around her gossiped with each other, the name of Ragnar Lothbrok falling from their lips. Apparently, the king returned to Kattegat after years of absence; she could care less.

An older woman glared at the young blonde, pulling her child behind her as if to protect it from a rabid animal. "Freak." She spat under her breath, glaring at the unbothered teen.

People avoided her like the plague as if she was no better than the thralls and cattle. Goats were more loved than her around the town. But she didn't care for their feelings, or them for the matter.

"Sigurd." She greeted the man who stood out the forge strumming his oud, humming a cheerful tune with a scowl on his face, trying to distract himself from his thoughts.

"Siggy." The Ragnarsson nodded at her, the lines on his forehead relaxing as he looked the blonde over. She carried herself in the usual swagger, her feet bare and eyes crazy. "Did you hear what happened?"

She snorted and plopped down next to him, taking the oud out of his hands and plucking at the strings with no talent or intention to play. It annoyed him when she used his things, so of course, she did it as often as possible. "Ragnar's back. I heard people curse his name. But do tell what he did."

Sigurd spat on the ground and glared at the dirt, making her stop messing around and look at him in question. "The settlement in Wessex was destroyed right after he left, which he knew of but did nothing! And now he came back, not to reunite with his family or apologize to his people. He wants to sail to England instead."

Siggy giggled at the explanation and jumped up, twirling around the support beam before dropping the music instrument in his lap and continuing her twirls. "He wants revenge like everyone does. People died because of him in every fight, so why are you angry that he wants people to die again? Tis nothing new, Sigurd."

He shook his head angrily before dismissing the issue and talking to her about more pleasant things. "I caught a fox. Do you want the pelt?"

Siggy shook her head, snagging an apple from a merchant's cart and then another one from another food stand. "Keep your lame pelts. I told you I want a bearskin!"

The Ragnarsson rolled his eyes at her and strummed his instrument as his niece stole another apple and juggled them cheerily, ignoring his stern look. "You shouldn't steal, Siggy! You have money!"

"You are the rich one, not me. And I am hungry." She snorted, catching the apple in her mouth midair, wiggling her thin eyebrows at him in a mocking manner.

It felt nice to be around each other without the pressure of Sigurd's bloodline around them. People avoided him when he was around Siggy, the girl too wild and violent for anyone to spend time with her. All but Sigurd were cautious about their words around her.

The Viking with the serpent in his eye was not afraid of her at all. In his eyes, she was the same as when they were children, his lonely friend. Siggy used to be too scared to leave the Great Hall, dirty and neglected by everybody.

"You should be nicer to me, anyway. I am leaving soon, you know? What if I never return? Would you miss me?" She joked dramatically, skipping around the dirty ground with her bare feet

"I suppose I would miss your shrill voice. The silence will be haunting." Sigurd said sarcastically, earning a punch on the shoulder from his niece.

Siggy giggled delightedly, the sound the same as the cackles Floki let out when happy. So much has changed since she was a child; the little blonde wasn't a child anymore; she was now a young woman hungry for adventure.

She was so happy when Bjorn announced that he is leaving to find the place on his map that she didn't even care that it meant going with him. Siggy wanted to see the world; she was an explorer, far too nosy and curious for her own good. But Sigurd supposed it was a family trait; she was just like Ragnar and Bjorn.

"Try not to kill him, Siggy."

"No promises, Sig." Throwing away the last apple core, she spoke to him in a serious tone, her hatred for her biological father obvious. Ragnar's eldest son was far too mouthy towards her, considering he is to blame for all her shortcomings. After all, Siggy wouldn't be an outcast and madwoman if he had been a better father to her.

Truth to be told, Siggy was happy with how her life turned out; she had Helga and Floki, she was sure they were far better parents than Bjorn could have ever been. She pitied his children with Torvi, the poor children were probably neglected, and their mother had to raise them independently. Otherwise, where was the fault if not in him as a father? He couldn't just hate her and love the rest of his children.

Helga and Floki loved her and treated her like their own, so she can't be the issue. Bjorn never cared to explain himself, and they avoided each other like the plague. Whenever he came to visit Floki, she left for the woods or to annoy the Ragnarsons.

Siggy parted ways from Sigurd, who left to train with his brothers. She needed to return home before Helga started to worry; the poor woman would go gray at this rate. Floki already said he was bald because of her and Ivar, which was a lie; it was all Ivar's fault; he was more annoying in her opinion.

"Siggy, there you are! Come help me stitch this sail." Helga called out to her adoptive daughter, smiling when she saw the girl safe and sound. She knew that Siggy could take care of herself, but ever since she lost Angrboða, she was worried about her. After all, the gods tried to take her once before, trying to drown her in the river when she was barely four years old.

Siggy was Helga's second chance at motherhood, maybe Floki didn't want a child anymore, but in the end, they got one anyway. Perhaps not of their blood, but Siggy was their daughter, even if not by name.

"Tighten it better and take your time; a good sail is not made in a day." She reminded the younger girl, watching her thin fingers work carefully. Siggy was skilled with sharp things, no matter if blade or needle. But she was always too restless for needlework; everytime, she started a piece and then ran off.

The two worked side by side in silence, while Floki carved details into the prow. It's supposed to be a bear head, meant to honor Bjorn. Siggy hoped it looked just a stupid as him, but knowing the boat builders' work, it would be beautiful.

"Did you pack your things?"

"Yes, Helga."

"All of them? Even the furs?"

"It's gonna be hot there. I don't need furs."

"You don't know that. Pack some just to be sure."

Siggy sighed and looked at her adoptive mother with a begging face. "Yes, Helga." The older blonde ignored the mocking tone and smiled in satisfaction.

Floki snickered behind them and dropped a bow and arrow in Siggy's lap. "Catch something big. We will sacrifice it to Thor later."

"Isn't Aslaug making a sacrifice?"

Floki shook his head and tapped her forehead with a pout on his lips. "This one is to give you more wits. I can't have you dying stupidly. Helga would kill me."

With a scoff, she slapped his hand away, ignoring his giggles as she went out into the woods. Hunting was always her favorite pastime, other than annoying people. The woods were silent; the gods guided her hands as she became a predator and came back covered in blood. What was there not to love?

Walking barefoot over the grass, Siggy enjoyed the serenity and quiet. It was nice to be surrounded by the woods where she grew up. Ever since she was four, the forest was a part of her home. Climbing the trees like a squirrel and gathering herbs with Helga or Aslaug was when she was happiest.

Despite her indifference to the Queen, she was thankful for her company. Aslaug taught her about her gift and how to use it, teaching her the bits that Floki lacked when it came to Völvas. The woman also gave birth to Sigurd, so that was a good thing too. It was also easier to forget that Aslaug left her to the thralls instead of raising her herself. With four children of her own and her husband away, Siggy was too much of a burden on her.

Sometimes when she was young and bored, she wondered what it would have been like living with the Ragnarssons and being raised in Kattegat instead of here. What she might have been like as Aslaug's granddaughter instead of her ward. But those were childish fantasies and a waste of time.

The snapping of a twig broke her train of thought. Siggy stopped in her track and sharpened her ears to any other sounds. Another noise followed, and a deer walked out behind a tree. The animal didn't notice her yet and happily ate, unaware of its upcoming doom.

Siggy drew her arrow and carefully aimed the weapon at the deer. A crow flew from the tree the moment the animal dropped to the ground. Siggy walked to the still twitching deer on the floor; an arrow ebbed in his chest.

"The gods will be happy; you are a pretty one." She grinned in victory and kneeled before the animal to pick it up. "Come on, don't be difficult." Narrowly missing a flailing antler taking out her eye, she threw the animal over her shoulder and carried it home. Humming a song tune Helga sang to her as a child, Siggy returned home only to hear a foreign voice talking to Floki.

Slowly she let the animal to the ground and climbed up a tree to watch the visitor from afar. He was bald with a beard and dressed in rags. But by the way, he talked to Floki and Helga; he must be an old friend.

A crow sat down on the branch next to her and croaked into her ear. "Shut up." The bird continued the persistent noise, only tilting his head as if to mock her. "Gods, you are more annoying the Ivar. Shoo. Shoo." The crow inched closer to her and cawed louder, right in front of her face. "Fuck off!"

"Stop bullying the birds and come down!" Floki's voice carried out from under the tree, causing the blonde teen to scoff. Leaping off the tall tree, Siggy landed in a crouch and picked herself up from the sandy ground. Making her way to Helga, Floki, and the stranger, Siggy sprinted to her seat by the fire. "What did you catch?"

"Deer."

Plopping down next to the stranger, Siggy leaned into his personal space to stare at his aged face that was pulled in a grimace. The blue eyes and quirky smirk were somewhat familiar to her but still a little bit foreign. "Nice to meet you."

"Stop harassing Ragnar. He is a visitor. Play nice for once, huh." Siggy frowned at the name that Floki spoke and leaned away from the once Greatest man alive.

"I imagined you taller. With more hair." She exclaimed, shrugging her shoulders and reaching for the plate with soup, ignoring the man who chuckled at her nonchalant statement.

Helga ruffled Siggy's hair affectionately and filled a bowl of soup for Ragnar as well. The older man thanked her and watched the young blonde female waiting for a name from her. "Don't mind Siggy; she isn't that fond of people."

Ragnar's eyes widened in slight shock at the name reveal. There was only one blonde Siggy, the girl's age that he knew. Bjorn's daughter Siggy - his granddaughter. He looked at Helga for her to confirm his suspicions, so the woman nodded in agreement.

He opened his mouth to tell her something, but the girl cut him off. "Don't bother. I don't care:"

"Siggy." Scolded Helga.

The younger female rolled her eyes and waved her hand while talking. "You told me not to tell lies. I am simply honest. I don't care what he has to say. Sigurd told me he is back and what he did. I could care less for either."

Floki snickered at her indifferent speech and smirked at Ragnar proudly. No matter if she was of Ragnar's blood, Siggy was more like Floki himself. Crazy with the touches of Helga in between.

"But if you touch any of my stuff, you will pay for it with your life, old man." Ragnar snickered at her statement and looked at her with a challenging glint in his eyes.

"What makes you think you could beat me?"

Siggy scoffed and counted on her fingers. "You are old, in pain from your wound. Meanwhile, I am young, fast, and know your weaknesses from Floki."

"Also stupidly brave and possibly suicidal."

Smirking at his remark, Siggy leaned into his face again and chuckled darkly. "Maybe. Or maybe I am certain that if I stabbed you in a dark corner, no one would come to your aid. Especially not your oldest son."

Ragnar grimaced at her truthful words and looked down at his hands that still held the bowl with soup. "You don't like Bjorn."

"For someone who has been away for a long time, you catch up quickly." She stood up from her seat and walked to the water to play with Floki's mini boats. "He is a lot like you, you know? A shit father just like you. You must be very proud."

"Siggy!" Helga scolded, apologizing for her daughter's behavior and running after her. "What happened today. You are being awfully mean today, Siggy."

The blonde snorted and pushed the model ship around the water.

The water created soft waves around the small boat, calming her earlier anger. "We will sail with Bjorn."

"You don't have to go if you don't want to. You could stay with Sigurd. I am sure he won't mind. Or I can stay as well. We could have some time alone and make some new dresses for us. I think yellow would suit you well."

Her reflection in the water looked pissed off. The tangled blonde hair and bright blue eyes of her biological father were a permanent reminder of who she really was. No face paint or mannerism could cover-up whose daughter she was. "I don't want a dress, Helga. I want to fight and have an adventure." Siggy hissed in anger and slapped the water, destroying her reflection. Helga jumped in surprise but calmed down when she saw Siggy's concerned look.

"Then what is the problem? You will be with Floki and me. You can talk to Hvitserk and other warriors. You don't have to talk or look at Bjorn at all." Helga whispered softly, stroking Siggy's dirty cheek tenderly. Closing her tormented eyes, Siggy sighed as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders.

"What matters is the adventure and the glory, not Bjorn. What matters is you, not them—none of them or their whispers." Siggy nodded and stood up to take a stroll.

"I will go for a walk. Meet you at the Hall for the celebration."

Helga watched the teen walk away solemnly. "Be careful!" Siggy waved her hand at her and left without looking back.

Running through the woods barefoot at dawn felt great. The birds were up and chipper while the rest of the world slowly woke up around her. Her blonde hair flowed behind her as she jumped into a puddle of mud and enjoyed the squishy feeling in between her toes.

"Come, the best trees are up here!" Called Floki hiking up the hill before them, passing other tall trees on the way.

Siggy runs behind him, touching every tree and remembering the textures of every bark. "Why not this one? It feels good."

Floki turned on his heel and circled around the tree in a weird dance before shaking his head. "No, no. Not good enough. This one needs more time. But when it gets older. I will make a pretty boat out of it."

Siggy pouted and hugged the tree in protest, pushing her face against the bark. "I like this one! Do something out of it, Floki! Pleaseeeee!"

The boatbuilder rolled his eyes and pried her from the tree. He held her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes for a bit before chuckling in his peculiar way. "Both you and the tree will grow, and when you are both older, this tree will be the first plank for your very own boat."

Her blue eyes practically sparkled at the thought, and she grinned in excitement. All her earlier sadness and frustration were forgotten. "You will make me a boat? A real big one?"

Floki chuckled and continued his way uphill, Siggy climbing behind him. "Of course! Every voyager needs a ship."

"How do you know I will be a voyager?"

"I can see it in your eyes. You will sail all over the world and see many exciting things." Siggy grinned in victory and sprinted up the hill to a tall oak tree.

She hugged it and smirked down at Floki, who nodded in agreement and let her mark the tree with a knife. He would cut it down later when she was further away. First, they will need to find more trees. "Will people love me when I am older?"

He looked down at the hopeful eyes of his adoptive daughter and sighed. "People don't always love great men and women. They envy them as they envy the gods. Be true to the gods and yourself, and they will reward you."

Siggy opened her eyes, the milky white color fading from them. She sighed in annoyance and watched the waves move in the moonlight. The Great Hall was alive with drunken cheers and brawls, but she felt content by the shore.

When she returned home from her walk, Helga and Floki already left to join the celebrations, so she got ready alone. The pink dress that Helga made for her, especially for tonight, felt too delicate on her. How were those battle-hardened men supposed to fear her if she looked like a soft flower?

Siggy was anything but soft. Sigurd always said she was a hurricane with skin. Easy on the eyes but secretly dangerous. Men will still underestimate women; that was an unspoken rule that always pissed her off. They would respect her skinny mad genius of an adoptive father before they even thought about not treating her like an object. Of course, they will lose an eye or hand for that, but the audacity was still annoying.

Let them look at her and think her small, and then they will shit their pants when they see her beheading enemies. The day Siggy the Drowned settled for a peaceful life, Ragnarok would come. She is Viking and Vikings aren't to be disrespected or underestimated.  

With one last sigh, Siggy turned on her hell and discarded her fur cloak to show off her bare arms to the horny eyes of the drunk people. Sigurd sat on a table near Aslaug, his brothers all around him. Floki and Helga talked to some foreigners on the other side of the Hall.

Merrily skipping towards them made the younger of the two foreigners look at her in curiosity. "You disappoint me, Floki. I wanted to butcher the deer myself."

"You snooze, you lose, Little Menace." The boatbuilder snickered and pulled her closer to show her off to his friends. "This is our daughter Siggy. These are King Harald and his brother Halfdan."

"Ah, yes. The conqueror and his shadow. I am a huge fan of how you take over one kingdom after another—the reason why is disappointing, though."

Harald and Halfdan both frowned in anger but said nothing back to her. Not even an hour here, and she already pissed off two people. At this rate, she would hit her personal record of how many people she can bug in a day.  

"Be nice, Siggy. We are to sail with them to the Mediterranean." Helga softly scolded and shot Floki a glare when she saw him enjoying the exchange too much.

"You have a very unique daughter. I wouldn't expect anything else from you, Floki." Halfdan finally broke the silence looking the young teen over. Slightly unruly blonde hair, face paint, blue eyes with a crazy glint, and a pretty figure. The girl was the perfect mix of Helga and Floki.

"Have you ever raided before, Siggy?" Harald questioned her, causing her to shake her head in denial. "A first raid is a great way to prove yourself. I wish you luck in your battles, then. Let your first kill be easy."

"Who says I haven't killed before?"

Halfdan chuckled at the darkness in her gaze. The voyage won't be boring at all. "And how many did you kill then?"

"A few. People tend to anger me very easily and bleed out too fast."

"I like you, Siggy."

"A shame I don't like people."

[bytheangell]

give me the real thing (or give me the feeling)

(A s02e12 inspired fic) (Read on AO3)

Something bristles inside of Jonathan to be introduced to Clary as Sebastian. It’s the name he’s going by currently - the name of the boy whose image, whose entire life, he’s taken on - and he’s spent enough time getting used to hearing and saying it to not slip up anywhere that matters. But that doesn’t mean he likes it. It’s a means to an end, though right now he wants nothing more than to introduce himself as, well, himself.

But Jonathan Morgenstern doesn’t get access to the New York Institute. Jonathan Morgenstern doesn’t get to see his sister, doesn’t get the freedom to move on his own, to speak and eat and live. He’s seen what the Nephilim did to Jace when they thought that he was Valentine’s son, and if that’s the treatment they give to a Shadowhunter considered to be one of their best and brightest, then he can only imagine the treatment they’d reserve for him if they knew.

They don’t know, and he doesn’t plan on them finding out until there’s nothing they can do about it.

So it’s Sebastian who arrives with Isabelle at the Institute, and Sebastian who smiles and laughs and charms nearly everyone he meets.

There are a few problems, but there always are, and he’s prepared to deal with Alexander and anyone else who may not immediately welcome him with open arms. They aren’t his concern. They aren’t why he’s here. They aren’t Clary, and Clary is the only one he truly cares about.

He’s watched her before this, in videos and pictures and from afar in the city. He feels as if he already knows her - as if he’s always known her - so it’s jarring to see the lack of recognition in her eyes when they see each other face-to-face. He’s dreamt of his sister for so long, with thoughts of the family he knew he had out there filled his mind more often than not during his time in Edom. It’s such a relief to finally have her here in front of him, in the flesh, that he’s willing to overlook the disappointment that she doesn’t just know they’re connected from the moment she sees him.

He’s the most himself around her. He can feel his carefully crafted persona of Sebastian slipping more with every minute he’s in his sister’s presence, becoming more himself the longer he speaks with her. Because Sebastian was never meant for Clary. Sebastian got Jonathan in the door, yes, and he eases the concerns of the other Nephilim. But he doesn’t want Clary to like Sebastian. He doesn’t want Clary to welcome Sebastian. He wants Clary to know him, the way he’s wanted to know her for years.

He starts off with casual comments, things like how they don’t choose their parents, reassurances that he knows she’s nothing like her father. He knows their father better than her, and he wishes he could tell her that, so she knows that his words aren’t just more empty niceties. She’s nothing like him. And he hopes she never will be, that she can remain pure and untainted and good, in ways he could never be.

“I believe that emotions give us power,” he tells her, because he knows it’s the exact opposite of what Valentine would say. “And when we suppress them we are all the weaker for it.” He wants to tell her why he believes that. He wants to tell her all about how his own emotions - stubborn hope and desire for love - are the only things that saved him. He never wants to see her shut down and turn into just another cold and stifled Nephilim soldier.

Jonathan doesn’t think twice about inserting himself into Clary’s life, or how it may seem strange for a new arrival to speak so personally, or that the intensity of his emotions around her would be unwelcomed. Not until they’re in front of Magnus’ door, and Jonathan’s ignoring both Alec’s warnings that he’s taking things too far and Clary’s pleas for him to stop as she insists that she can’t do it.

But she can. She just needs to believe in herself the way he believes in her. She just needs to own her emotions rather than fear them.

...and maybe so does he.

“You wanted a brother so badly because then at least you’d have someone to share in the pain.” He speaks the words to Clary, watches the tears fall from her eyes at his harsh reminders of her reality, but they’re just as much his as they are hers. They both lost a mother. They both have a father who will never love them. “That empty feeling that eats away at your soul and makes you feel like you want to die, day after day after day, it never stops. Now take that pain and use it.”

Jonathan searches Clary’s eyes, hoping, praying she’ll hear his words and understand even a fraction of what he understands. They’re so similar, they’re so much the same despite the circumstances that brought them to this moment. But if she can accept these things, if she can embrace them within herself, then maybe she can accept and embrace him, too.

It works. The moment Clary breaks through the wards feels like a breakthrough in so many other ways, and Jonathan follows behind her, feeling every part the proud older brother he always knew he could be.

[pochitastan]

Do I Wanna Know?

songfic based on Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader

AN: this is my first posted fic so i'm sorry if it's shit. i try to make my fics inclusive and i know not all races blush or show red on their face but the song lyrics start that way so i'm sorry in advance. the effort i put into this is extraordinary im surprised i finished it.-

WARNINGS: LANGUAGE, slow burn, angst (not rlly), SMUT, unprotected sex, biting, overstimulation, light degradation, some choking, light bondage, he makes you cry lol, FLUFF- like wholesome shit? i really made myself feel even lonelier than i already do writing this.

word count- about 10k (this a whole ass book sorry) i don't have caps on purpose

i hope you guys enjoy this mess <3

"have you got color in your cheeks?"

"what?"you turn away from where- who - you were looking at and look at christa, meeting her worried gaze. She puts her hand on your forehead and sighs "are you feeling well y/n? you're burning up." you were completely fine physically, its your emotions making you heated. a foreign feeling was in your chest as you watched a new recruit sucking up to captain levi a little too obviously. "i'm fine christa, i'll be better once i get food in my system." she purses her lips and sighs "atleast let me get you a cool towel, i could use one myself." you curtly nod and turn back towards the scene before you.

do you ever get that fear that you can’t shift the type that sticks around like summat in your teeth?

the new girl, sienna, stands on a chair that she claimed was "wobbly" and "dangerous" so she asked the captain to "keep a hand on her" so she could be steady as she dusts off the top of the bookshelves she was in front of. what an airhead. she was using levi's annual cleaning day to her advantage alright. you lazily mop the floor as you watch how his hand stays on her leg, the bottom half of his face covered with his go to white bandana. his usual bored expression is apparent in his eyes as they trail around his surroundings, meeting yours from a room away. you try to correct your glare and immediately look back down at your mop on the floor. you missed the way his lip quirks up, hidden beneath the mask. 

are there some aces up your sleeve? You weren't jealous, just pissed because of how unnecessarily loud sienna was being. you weren't thinking about what you would do if you were in her place-imagining his hand on your leg. no, you hate him because of how he holds himself with untouchable pride, acting like everyone is beneath him, how all the new recruits practically fan girl over "humanity's strongest." he's not all that. although he's older than you your kill count is quickly catching up to his, not to mention your untouchable skill when it comes to operating your ODM gear. although you two are at each other's necks, you have saved each other's lives on the battle field on multiple occasions- him saying something along the lines of "get your ass back up brat!" and you scolding him with "don't get lazy on me now asshole." no one dared speak to him like that- but when his life had almost ended seconds before, your words helped him snap back into battle mode. this "relationship" began when you first joined the scouts and sought out for him after your first exhibition outside of the walls. of course, this was before you knew how much of a douche the man really is. when you found him your conversation went something like this. "captain, i was wondering if you could teach me how to fight the way you do." "did you not pay attention in training?" "sir, i've seen some of the most dedicated soldiers i know have their limbs severed and be devoured before me. did they not pay attention in training, or were they just not as talented and gifted as you?" truthfully you thought he would smack you away right then and there due to the venom in your voice and blatant disrespect towards him. instead he narrows his eyes slightly "same time tomorrow, you better not be late, brat." you may not know it, but he took an interest in your bold personality, even though he knew it would end up pissing him off. have you no idea that you’re in deep? i’ve dreamt about you nearly every night this week, how many secrets can you keep? your mind wonders to a week ago when the corps returned from a scouting mission in which countless lives were lost. you had seen a titan grab levi by the leg before you swiftly cut the giant baby down. he hid it well, but you saw his limp before he flew off. when you returned to base you couldn't find him anywhere "armin!" you ran towards the boy and he looked at you with wide eyes "y/n you're hurt!" he wasn't wrong. you had gotten your left forearm caught in a titan's jaw, luckily you were able to cut free before your limb was severed or broken- but your limb was still torn open from the titan's large teeth.  armin takes the towel used to wipe his sweat and wraps it around your arm "you need medical-"you interrupt him "armin wheres captain levi?" you needed to remind him of how you saved his life once again, you weren't going to check up on him. no, you didn't want to see how badly his leg was hurt or make sure he really made it back alive. the boy looks around and points to the base "he went inside i- i think he was injur-" "thank you!" you sprint inside finding him in an unused room wrapping his injured leg with gauze. "captain!" now that you're alone with him you don't really know what to do or say, so you settle on standing in the doorway. he abruptly turns to see you standing at the door holding a stained red towel on your injured arm. "shit- you need to go to the medical tent for that dumbass!" god you were pale- your y/e/c eyes were dull from blood loss and you were practically swaying in front of him. he stands- wincing as he puts weight on his bad leg- and pulls you inside closing the door behind him. he sits you on the bed and gets down on his good knee before you. "you don't have time to get back out there- you can barely stand" he pulls the towel from you and throws it on the floor behind him. "shit- what a mess" he curses as he gently grabs your arm- ripping the gauze with his teeth and wrapping your wound. you could hear his deep breathing as you watch him and you start to relax, slightly leaning forward as tiredness starts to overtake you. he finishes his wrapping- the gauze strategically put around your elbow to the palm of your hand. "levi." you can barely keep your eyes open due to the amount of blood you lost. he meets your gaze, his face so close your noses are practically touching. a foreign feeling blooms in your chest as you look at him, his face betraying his usual disinterested expression, instead his brows are furrowed, his usually downcast gaze now upturned in worry. he clenches his jaw, looking to the side, and his expression returns to it's normal calm state. you hesitantly bring your uninjured hand to his cheek and lean your forehead into his, closing your eyes. "i saved your ass once again." you hear him hum a deep chuckle and you feel his rough hand come over yours, pushing your cold touch into his face. he brings his other hand to your chin pulling you away to look at him. god his clothes were stained with your blood and guilt courses through you. your usual resolve falls as your eyes tear up. how embarrassing. you've never dropped your composure like this, years of emotional abuse allowing you to hide what you feel from your face easily. you're definitely suffering from severe blood loss. "still a pain in my ass even when i'm the one taking care of you." "you love it." you retort as you look away, trying to hide your tears and your face heats from his words. "why did you come here y/n?" his deep voice was monotone as usual, but his expression was soft. "i-" you look at him again and suddenly the two of you were leaning in. you closed your eyes and his lips were on yours. they were soft, softer than you had imagined. his hand stayed on yours while the other tangled in your hair. if you thought you were lightheaded before- what you were feeling now was on a whole new level. he pulls away, trailing his thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes following his finger's movements. god you were practically floating, your heartbeat was pumping rapidly in your chest, heat spreading all throughout your body and settling between your legs. your vision gets hazy and you blink struggling to maintain consciousness. levis eyes go wide and your vision goes black. you woke up the next day in the medical tent, levi no where in sight. cause there’s this tune i found that makes me think of you somehow and i play it on repeat until i fall asleep you snap back to reality. you hold up your injured arm. you had been avoiding him since then, trying(and failing) to convince yourself it was a dream you had due to the dangerous blood loss you experienced. even if it did happen it was only because the two of you were injured and not thinking straight. he would never be interested in you. suddenly you hear sienna yelp and fall back. you look back up and see levi holding her bridal style effortlessly. "oh captain! thank you you're so strong- oh" levi sets her down and rolls his eyes with a scowl, grabbing the duster from her hand and walking straight towards you. quickly, you look back at your mopping suddenly very interested in how shiny the wet floor looks. "cadet." his deep voice sends chills down your body and you subconsciously squeeze your thighs together to relieve the sudden heat in your core. you look up at him and see he's already looking down at you with an amused look in his eyes. "last i checked your assignment was to mop the floors correct?" duh. you fight the urge to roll your eyes. "correct sir." he pulls down his bandana and leans closer to you. in a voice just above a whisper he says "so why are you so distracted from your task?" you can't take your eyes away from his and your body flushes at his close proximity. he takes the mop from your hand, his calloused fingers grazing yours, and hands you the duster. "from now on you're in charge of dusting the underside of the tables and wiping down the trimming on the walls. maybe when you're on your knees you can learn a thing or two about finishing tasks."

spillin’ drinks on my settee

asshole! you swallow as anger blooms in your chest. how dare he tempt and tease you like this,first leading you on with a kiss and now making you get on your knees before him. you didn't know if you wanted to smack him or suck him off. a distant voice in the back of your head said imagine doing both. you know he's looking for a reaction. if he wants to tease you and push your limits, two can play at that game. you slowly get down on your knees before him, maintaining eye contact the whole way down. your heart beats rapidly in your chest and you try to ignore the fact that his cock is merely inches away from your mouth. "yes sir." you ignore the strong urge to look away from his eyes and down his body as he stares you down, his lips slightly parted. he lets out a breath and pulls his mask back up, leaving with the mop and moving upstairs. you let out the breath you were holding and sit back on your feet, running your hand through your hair. "here you go y/n! sorry it took me so long, eren and jean were arguing." christa hands you the wet towel and her eyes go wide "oh you really look dazed now, are you sure you're alright?" you bring the towel to your head "i guess i really am feeling a bit shaky." you can't stand him. 

do i wanna know if this feeling flows both ways?

you lazily chew your bread, pretending to be interested in the conversation your friends were carrying on at the table. tensions were high after a long day of cleaning and being critiqued by the captain. eren and jean were going on about something once again. you swear the two are always at each others necks, no doubt because of jean's jealousy towards eren due to how close he is with mikasa. "you're all talk! i don't care if you're a titan- i'll kick your scrawny ass right now!" jean yells and stands causing eren to reciprocate "oh i'd love to see you try horse face" things were getting ugly fast. "come on guys let's calm down now" reiner stands with them "back off reiner i don't need your help!" eren practically growls. this is serious if reiner can't stop their advances. you stand and move between the pair "that's enough. you two need to set your differences aside and learn when to quit." you put your arm against eren's chest and look at him. "fine." he huffs. you sigh and jean grumbles under his breath "pussy, i knew you wouldn't do shit, no wonder you let your mother get killed." ... oh no. eren snaps and charges, causing jean to swing. eren quickly grabs your injured forearm, and roughly pulls you out of the way from jean's blow. you fall to the floor and chaos ensues with everyone rushing in between the two. you wince in pain as your gauze starts turning red from your now opened wound. you stand as you hear steps rapidly coming down the stairs towards the group. "guys please- the captains coming" your pleads fall on deaf ears and you mentally curse yourself for not doing more to stop this. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" levi's cold voice booms through the room and everyone freezes.

sad to see you go, was sorta hopin’ that you’d stay

eren and jean abruptly pull away from each other and everyone takes a step back. levi stands with hange behind him. the captain's voice is rough as he growls "have you two sons of bitches got any intelligence in those nonexistent brains of yours? not only did you shitheads ruin a meal you also decided to fuck up a perfectly clean room." he glances over everyone but his eyes fall on you. "cadet, why is your arm hidden?" shit... shit! you freeze. taking a deep breath you glare back at him, trying to telepathically curse him for pointing it out and tell him that it's not a big deal. wordlessly you pull your arm out from behind you. all eyes look at the gauze on your arm stained red with blood, which was now dripping on the floor. the captain takes a breath. then two. "its fine, it's not as bad as it looks-"gods your arm is throbbing "i was too rough on it and i should've let it heal more, this is my doing." the lie falls smoothly from your lips and you try not to wince at the silence. "no y/n, i won't let you cover for me." eren steps forward and you mentally scold him. "sir i was the one who hurt her. i must've grabbed her injured arm when i pushed her out of the way." you know what's about to happen and it appears your comrades do too. a moment of silence passes before levi steps towards eren and you pray mikasa won't try to kill the captain. eren's eyes go wide with fear and he steps back, stumbling into the now flipped table, causing him to fall to the ground. he crawls backwards, his eyes never leaving the captain's. it's almost as if you can read his thoughts, his mind replaying one phrase: not again. mikasa takes a step forward and you know that if you don't act now things will take a turn for the worse. just as levi raises his good leg to deliver a blow and mikasa reaches for her blades, you're next to the captain with your good hand on his shoulder. "if eren hadn't moved me i would've gotten hit. because of him i didn't have to kick jean's ass myself."you quirk a brow and glance over to jean, who currently looks like he's about to vomit "and you know his injuries would be far worse than mine." a moment passes before levi puts his leg down, redirecting his glare to the rest of the group. "fix it or i will." and just like that he leaves, hange shrugging at us before following behind him. 

baby we both know that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day

eren stands and cant meet your eye "im sorry y/n" you shake your head with a chuckle and give him a closed eye smile, causing him to look at you in confusion. "you did nothing wrong eren." the boy clenches his jaw and gives you a curt nod before moving to set the table back up. mikasa nods at you and you pray eren will one day realize how much this girl cares for him. "yeah, next time you guys fight we're not stepping in." connie says with a smirk "i kinda wanna see who'd win anyway." you and a few others laugh with him. you grab a towel from the cabinet and wrap it tightly around your arm to stop the bleeding as you lean against the counter and look at your blood on the floor. no wonder levi reacted the way he did, that clean freak must've been pissed about the mess your blood made. he didn't even spare you a look when you were next to him, he had no reaction to your touch on his shoulder. you curse under your breath, gods why did you care so much? just being near the guy pisses you off. you pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes. "he didn't look at the floor." armin stands in front of you. "what?" "he didn't notice the blood, he just looked at you." the boy seemed to be as surprised as you. you keep your face blank "what are you talking about?" armin ignores you and walks back to the others, leaving you alone once again.

crawlin’ back to you

it had been a few weeks since eren and jean's fight, each day dully passing as you sat out of the front lines due to your injury. since then your arm had healed enough to the point where you could use it again, in moderation of course. it is starting to scar and you can tell it will leave a gruesome mark behind, but you don't mind. although you were injured levi didn't go easy on you, giving you extra assignments like cleaning the stables or staying up late to re-mop the floors after your first attempt was "pathetic". yet even after ordering you around or ignoring you completely, he would always gently pull your arm to him and look it over before letting you do your tasks. what the hell is up with him? he was being unnecessarily cold and rude to you one minute then checking on your recovery the next. he never showed any inclination that he really cared- yet his touch was so soft and warm. you figured he was bitter towards you because of how you stopped him from hurting eren, maybe he saw your actions as disrespectful. you silence your thoughts as you sit at the table at which the scouts have their meetings. everyone was waiting for levi, eren, and hange to show. as if on cue the three come into the room, hange sitting at the head of the table and eren sitting at the opposite head. wait... why is eren sitting where levi usually sits? the only open seat was the one right next to you, to the right of eren. levi sits next to you and you give eren a confused look. levi didn't seem to mind where eren was sitting... weird. even reiner seemed to notice the seat change, raising a brow to you from his spot beside you. the meeting must be about the experiments hange has been using eren for, why else would levi trade his spot?

ever thought of callin’ when you’ve had a few? cause i always do

the meeting went as usual, levi briefing us on the newest plan for returning to the walls and others offering up various information and ideas. levi passed the discussion over to hange and she started talking about her latest experiments on her titans and eren. after updating us she went into her usual rant on how she was inspired for these experiments and of course everyone knew this information already. usually levi was the one to suggest we change the topic or simply leaving the table, allowing us to follow, yet he sat to the left of you leaning his head against his hand, mirroring your position. you glance over to him and see he's already looking at you, his expression remains the same but he raises a brow when you make eye contact. he then turns his attention back to hange. you ignore how good he looks and turn your attention to the table, lazily tracing circles on the surface of the wood. you're caught up in your thoughts, zoning out into your own world when a finger lightly caresses your thigh. your hand freezes and you blink. did levi just touch your thigh? almost as if in response you feel him lazily trace his finger in circles leading to your upper thigh, mirroring what you did to the table moments before. you look around at everyone else at the table wondering if they could tell what was happening yet none of them were looking over to you, they're bored expressions showing no suspicion. you quickly glance to levi and see he looks stoic as ever, his attention appearing to still be on hange. how can he sit here and look so calm? his feather light touch moves further up your leg and you turn your head down to the table again, your cheeks heating up. how was no one else seeing this? damn this large ass table covering everything- even reiner couldn't see a thing. levi's touch was sending electricity all over your body, your core practically gushing at his teasing. he keeps on moving up your thigh, his circles dangerously close to your center, and you subconsciously part your legs, giving him more access. you don't notice how he wets his lips with his tongue, fighting off a small smirk. you swallow and as you do his finger runs over your clothed clit. you fight back a gasp causing your spit to go down the wrong pipe and you're sent into an embarrassing coughing fit, everyone's attention turning to you as you wave them off stuttering "sorry"'s and "i'm fine" in between coughs. for the first time in a while levi wants to laugh, he loves seeing you get worked up over his little teases, it amuses him. a selfish part of him wants to be the only one to get these reactions out of you, wanting to be the only one to have this affect on you. he'll think about those thoughts later. you finally get a hold of yourself and hange continues after you apologize for interrupting her. levis finger returned to your upper thigh and you mentally crossed your fingers hoping you would be able to control yourself if he tried that again. your mind was racing, imagining what you would do if no one else was here. oh how you wanted him to bend you over this table and pound you until you were crying- "are you ok y/n?"reiner whispers. levi's hand freezes and you immediately snap out of your thoughts. reiner was looking at you with his hand over yours on the table, his thumb lightly running over your knuckles. maybe i’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody knew, now i’ve thought it through it was no secret to levi, the looks the other men would give you and the many conversations your name and appearance were brought up in made him quickly realize how sought after you really are. your beauty was apparent to him, he often caught himself thinking of your smile or the cute way your eyebrows raise when you try not to laugh at the other cadets being stupid. your laugh is what he enjoys the most, it reminds him of his old friend isabel and the days he spent with farlan in the underground. regardless, he knew he'd be a fool to think he was the only one who thought this way about you, it was nearly impossible not to. you're brilliant but you were clueless when it came to other's attraction towards you. he'd often watch as you would laugh with other guys, your innocent touches and jokes easily being mistaken for flirting, ignoring the anger and jealousy he would feel as he wished he could drag you away from their lustful eyes. of course even reiner was apart of the y/n fan club. he takes his hand away from you and clenches his jaw, trying, and failing, to ignore reiner's hand on yours. you nod and pull both of your hands into your lap "i'm fine, thanks reiner." you chew the inside of your cheek hating how much you miss the captain's touch. your heart skips a beat when you replay how soft and sensual his touches were in your mind. no matter how hard you try you can't seem to shake him from your thoughts, even when other guys enter the picture he's always there. you need a damn break. the meeting finally ends and you abruptly get up, ignoring reiner's attempts at walking you to your room, and you don't notice how levi glares at reiner as you leave. crawlin back to you "alright! you should be good to go. i'm sorry i can't help the scarring-" "it's fine don't worry about it hanj! if anything it just makes me look bad ass." the woman laughs at the nickname you gave her and crosses her arms "you don't need a scar to do that, everyone remembers how you kicked bertolt's ass in your sparring match with him." you roll your eyes and the two of you laugh. you move your arm around freely for the first time in what feels like a while. you thank hange for watching over your recovery and leave her office, heading over to the girl's rooms for the night. "you're cleared already?" levi's voice freezes you in place. it's been a week since you last saw the captain one on one, him ignoring you completely unless he was assigning more trivial cleaning tasks. you let out an annoyed sigh and turn around. "yes, hange just gave the all clear." he's holding a small stack of papers in one hand and gestures for you to come closer with the other "let me see." 

so have you got the guts?

your frown deepens and you walk up to him, ignoring how his eyes follow you as you approach. you stand two feet away for good measure and hold your arm out in front of him. he gently grabs your wrist, pulling you closer, and turns his attention to your now scarred arm. you can't help but keep your eyes on his as his finger lightly traces the markings. he looks up at your face and you immediately turn your head away to the floor, hating the way your heart skips a beat. "it's healed up better than i thought it would." what the hell is wrong with you? it's like your whole body is set ablaze just from the tip of his finger. "y/n look at me." your eyes go wide and you face him. his mouth moves and your eyes are trained on his lips, not registering anything he's saying. been wonderin’ if your heart’s still open and if so i wanna know what time it shuts "good girl." the words send electricity straight to your core and an audible gasp slips from your lips. your eyes go wide and your face feels so hot you swear you could cook an egg on it. you pull your arm away step back "w-what?" you stutter out. the captain looks at you with a confused and frankly judgemental look "i said relax, you look like you could hurl." you swallow and nod, a giggle slipping out. levi watches you as your giggles turn into a short coughing fit and he raises a brow in amusement. you really need to learn how to not choke on your spit. "sorry, i thought you said something else." this is so humiliating. you need to pull yourself together. why can't you keep your usual stone-faced facade around the captain? his eyes narrow and it's almost like you can see the gears turning in his head. your embarrassment shows on your face and you watch his eyebrows raise as he registers what you heard. "you thought i said good girl." he says taking a step forward. simmer down and pucker up, i’m sorry to interrupt its just i’m constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you you struggle to keep your composure as the man before you looks down at you, now so close you can feel his breath fan over your face. you cross your arms over your chest and roll your eyes "tch, so what if i did." your usual poker face has returned, yet your heart pounds rapidly in your chest. the captain brushes a lose strand of your hair behind your ear and leans down right next to your face. "can i try something?" your head nods on its own and your lips part as his eyes glance over them. you don't have time to react as his hand comes to the back of your head and massages your scalp before pulling your head to the side by your hair, giving himself access to your neck. you gasp and grip the front his dress shirt as he licks up your neck, biting into your sensitive skin. you stifle a moan and just like that he pulls away. your hand comes up to your neck, shock evident on your face. "wha-what was that?" the captain's lip twitches in an almost smirk, a deep hum rumbling his chest. "just as i thought." your skin is softer than he imagined. but i dont know if you feel the same as i do "oi there you are levi! i've been waiting for sawney's files for forever." levi turns around to face the section commander with his usual stone faced expression, as if he wasn't just sucking on your neck a few seconds before. he walks over to her, handing over the papers he's been holding. "don't go complaining now, you're lucky i even got them for you." hange looks over to you and raises a brow "cadet l/n what are you still doing here? i thought i dismissed you ages ago." as your superior you know you should be intimidated, scared even, from her questioning, but over the past month and a half you two have gotten pretty close from how often you would have to see her for your routine check ups. your hands come to your hips and you tease "captain levi wanted to check over my arm himself. Apparently he doubts your ability to oversee my recovery." to anyone else her movements would be undetectable but your keen observation skills easily spot how her eyes quickly dart to your neck, swiftly following over to levi's wrinkled button up and watch as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. if she put the dots together she didn't show it, instead going along with your joke. she lets out an exaggerated gasp and turns to levi "how dare you underestimate my healing abilities! i'll have you know i was top-" levi rolls his eyes "tch, i just wanted to make sure you weren't experimenting on her, four eyes. let's not forget about the blood test incident with mikasa." this makes you and hange laugh, levi letting a rare soft smile grace his lips as he watches you. "alright i'll leave you two, the girls are no doubt looking for me at this point." you and hange exchange a wave and levi watches your hips sway as you leave, mentally noting how good your uniform slacks make your ass look. he hears hange clear her throat and meets her gaze. his eyes slightly go wide as she gives him a knowing look and he looks away letting a "tch" out under his breath. "so i see you're finally going for it." levi glares at the woman and she smirks "i've seen you looking at her, and how protective you get with her-" levi glares "enough" he mumbles, looking like a pouting child as a rosy tint covers his cheeks. hange just continues her teasing "i heard her bunk is the cleanest out of all the girls'-" "shut up." hange just laughs and levi walks back to his office, avoiding further torment from the woman. but we could be together if you wanted to he was beginning to get pissed off. he expected you to cover the mark he left on you yesterday, you'd be a fool not to, but that's not what was bothering him. he watches from across the mess hall as reiner walks with you to get tea with his hand on your lower back. he knows reiner is using this as an excuse to make a move, as you are the only other person besides him and ymir who enjoys tea. how pathetic. he also notices how the other cadets are watching the two of you, excluding sasha who is too busy stuffing her face to notice anything. it was painfully obvious he was pining after you, yet your demeanor remained the same as always. with a grunt he focuses back on the conversation hange and erwin are having, subconsciously gripping the rim of his teacup tighter. do i wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? you laugh along with reiner as you pour your tea, trying to ignore how unnecessarily touchy he is today. you don't mind, his innocent touches never made you uncomfortable or made you feel anything really. reiner is a sweet guy, a lot of the other cadets look up to him and you respect that, but another man was occupying your thoughts. you sip your tea and tune in to what reiner is saying "-if i could i would build a cottage in the middle of nowhere with my own farm. it'd be perfect for my woman and i to start a family, and we wouldn't have to worry about the neighbors hearing us." he says the last part with a smirk and your face heats from his suggestive tone. "what about you gorgeous?" you take another sip and contemplate your answer. "well, if i could live beyond the walls i would probably explore. there has to be another civilization somewhere, we can't possibly be the last of the human race, there's no way i'm believing that bullshit." something in reiner's demeanor changes at your words. his face darkens and he steps closer to you, invading your space. the way he looks at you is unrecognizable, almost as if a different person stands before you. "how interesting." his hands come to your hips and he pulls you closer to him, his face hovering over yours, "who told you you could be this smart?" your eyes widen and you nervously laugh "my teachers i guess?" his grip on you tightens as you try to pull away. you really don't want to fight him and fear courses through you as he looks down at your neck. "oh? what's this?" one of his hands pull away to touch your neck and you use the opportunity to put a great distance between the two of you. your back hits someone's hard chest and their hand lightly rests against your lower back to steady you."i didn't know making women uncomfortable was something you enjoyed doing reiner." sad to see you go, was sorta hopin’ that you’d stay the captain's voice sounds from behind you and your shoulders visibly relax. levi cooly steps around you and casually refills his teacup. reiner's eyes stay on him with a glare that would've sent anyone running if not directed at the captain. levi calmly sips his tea, "oi, what are you still standing there for? i know i'm a sight but you don't need to stare." levi doesn't even spare reiner a glance as he grunts and walks off. you begin to turn around until his deep voice stops you "not you. you're coming with me." baby we both know that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day after levi finished his tea he silently lead you out of the mess hall toward his office. he walks in front of you, knowing you're following closely behind him. you don't speak until he opens the door to his office, walking in and gesturing for you to close the door. "you wanted to speak with me?" your voice comes out stronger than you thought it would due to the nerves coursing through you. you're alone with the captain in his office and it's just like you imagined. his desk is neatly organized with a few stacks of paper sitting in a straight line next to the edge. you notice a light ring the size of a teacup on the wood and a small smile rests on your face. "i didn't know i'd have to babysit you when you joined the scout regiment, if i had i wouldn't have let you." your smile is long forgotten. did you hear that right? "excuse me?" a look of disbelief graces your features and your head tilts to the side as you look at him. he couldn't help but find it endearing. "you heard me." though he knows it doesn't show on his face, he's pissed. he's sick of seeing all the other men openly lust over you as if you don't belong to him. no, he's done waiting around for you to realize how he feels. he crosses his arms and takes a step closer to you "you leading all the men on doesn't help your case either." your eyebrow twitches yet your face remains calm. is he trying to piss you off? "or are you so clueless that you can't see what you're doing to them?" he takes another step closer "to me?" you take a deep breath. "what is the point of this conversation, sir?" the title comes out harsher than you intended and the captain's eyebrow raises. "because if you're just going to shame me i'll be on my way." contrary to your words you don't make any move to leave his office. "no, i intend on doing other things." he lightly grabs ahold of one of your wrists and pulls you closer to him. "i cant have you acting like a slut now can i?" arousal courses through you and you gasp in shock as your other wrist moves to slap him before he gently grabs your hand, stopping it just before it hits him. "fuck you-" your voice catches in your throat as he traces his tongue up your wrist. your whole body heats and you forget to breathe as you watch him. he pulls away before kissing the area underneath your thumb, making eye contact as he lightly bites into your skin. crawlin back to you he relishes in the way your lips part, how intense and shocked your eyes look as they stay on his mouth. well that's one way to shut you up, but he doesn't want you to be quiet right now. he pulls away and a line of saliva connects your skin to his lips for a second. "cursing at your superior now are we?" you swallow and look back up into his eyes. oh how you regret doing that. the look he gives you sends heat straight to your core and you're sure your panties will be soaked soon."or-" he starts walking you backwards towards the door "does this little girl enjoy being a brat?" you don't even know how to respond. the man before you wears a small smirk "answer me." before your back can hit the door he turns you around, pulling your arms behind you and shoving your face against the cool wood. his chest is against your back and his scent fills your senses, making you dizzy with the pleasant smell of his cologne with a faint hint of soap and cleaning products. "asshole." your voice comes out in a quiet croak but he hears you clearly. he roughly pushes into you harder, causing his clothed cock to connect with your heat. a whimper falls from your lips from the contact and he feels you clench through his pants. his lips lightly caress your cheek as he speaks "how filthy, your cunt is already begging for me to fill you with my cock." your eyes widen at his words. you knew he had a foul mouth but this takes you by surprise. your heart is beating so loudly in your chest you're worried he can feel it against him. you push back into him, desperately searching for any kind of friction to relieve the pressure between your legs, and you thank the gods when he lets you grind against his hardening cock. he lets out a hiss and his hips start to grind with yours while his free hand unbuttons your pants and moves to rub circles on your aching clit. he mumbles against you "already so wet for me." before biting into your exposed shoulder. your breaths come out in light gasps, your movements becoming more desperate. you were already getting close and he could tell, but he doesn't want you cumming yet. your legs begin to shake as your release nears, small "yes"'s and "levi"'s falling from your lips. levi wants to hear those soft sounds on repeat, and he makes a mental note to find out how loud they can get. just as you're about to cum levi turns you around and pulls down your pants. your annoyance comes out in a huff as you step out of the slacks before he pushes you against the door again. your hands immediately move to touch him, and he lets you pull his shirt off, using your hands to feel the smooth muscles on his chest and run through his hair. he starts nibbling and sucking on your neck and you remember the warmth of his kiss, how soft and sensual his lips were and pray he'll let you feel them again. he looks at you, enjoying how beautifully fucked out you look already, before moving to connect your lips, yet he barely touches you before pulling away again. you try to lean forward to capture a real kiss from him but his hold on you doesn't budge. he's such a tease. a groan escapes you and levi tsks "now now y/n" they way he says your name makes you close your eyes and rest your head back against the door, trying to ground yourself and keep your composer. "you've made me wait this long-" his kisses trail down your neck before he gets on his knee before you. his calloused hands rub up your thighs and pull your panties off before he pulls one of your legs onto his shoulder. he lightly trails his index finger along your slit and you visibly shudder at the sensation. "you're going to cum on my mouth, understand?" ever thought of callin’ when you’ve had a few? cause i always do your body's so hot you're surprised you haven't passed out by now. he looks up at you expectantly and you wordlessly nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. a harsh slap lands on your ass and you jump with a moan. "use your words cadet." his voice sends vibrations into your core due to his close proximity and you close your eyes, putting your pride and dignity aside. "yes sir, please levi, please, please, please" your words are soft and levi's cock twitches at your begging. you're making him uncomfortably hard but he ignores it in favor of seeing you squirm above him. he can get his dick wet later. he brings his index finger up and lightly teases your clit, watching for your body's reactions to his touch. "have you ever been touched like this before?" he wants to ruin you, to have you crying and begging for him. he wants to make you forget all that isn't his name, but more importantly he wants you to be comfortable. right now he's focused on making you feel good, but not only out of selflessness. he wants to see how many orgasms he can pull from you before you're an incoherent mess from his touch. truthfully he wants to ruin any future sexual escapades with any other lover for you, him being the only one to make your body feel this good. he's selfish and he knows it. he licks along your slit, delicately tasting your folds and he feels your whole body react. you let out a high pitched whine and your hands grip onto his hair tightly. well there's his answer. levi groans into you, sending vibrations throughout your body, and digs in. maybe i’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody knew, now i’ve it through his tongue's languid strokes have you arching into him, your leg struggling to keep you standing. his movements have you quickly approaching the high you so desperately need. you throw your head back and a particularly loud moan slips out when he flicks his tongue over your clit just right. "levi-" he grunts in response and you have to grip the door handle to keep your knee from buckling. "s-sir im- so close" his hands roughly grip your ass and he harshly sucks your clit, sending you tumbling over the edge. your mouth falls open in a silent cry as your orgasm washes over you and levi swears he could cum just from the sight. he laps up your juices and your body jolts every time he runs his tongue over your sensitive clit. one of his hands squeezes your ass as the other trails up under your shirt and kneads your breast over your bra. with a kiss on your pelvic bone he stands and pulls you toward his desk. "sit." he orders. you sit on the edge of his desk and he immediately goes back in between your legs "levi i- ah- what are you doing?" his tongue makes your body jolt due to how sensitive your clit is. he stands and pulls your shirt off of you, your bra coming off soon after. he mumbles "so perfect." as he takes your breasts in his hands, sucking and flicking your nipple with his tongue while his fingers pinch and tease the other. your body is gorgeous, shit, you're gorgeous. his thoughts surround your beauty as he pleases you, enjoying the soft gasps you let out. he pulls away and looks at you while he slips a finger into your tight cunt and curls it causing you to lurch forward into him. his other hand grabs your face and forces you to look at him "take it." your moans only increase at the command and you feel yourself approaching another orgasm. he adds another finger, using his whole arm to perfectly hit a spot deep within you while he swirls his thumb on your clit. you hold onto him for dear life, finger nails leaving red marks across his back as you cum on his fingers. do i wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? suddenly he dips his face between your legs and harshly sucks onto your clit. "ah- fuck levi!" you practically scream as your body shakes from the overstimulation. your cunt clenches his fingers so well throughout your orgasm and he roughly holds your legs open, hard enough to leave bruises. the pain only fuels you more, and although you try to hold back your moans he knows anyone nearby can tell what the two of you are doing. you can barely keep yourself sitting up as you lean back on one arm while the other tugs your captain's hair between your legs. you've never felt this good before. sure, a few of your past partners made you finish but not like this. you don't have it in you to be embarrassed about the noises you're making, your mind only focusing on the man bringing you this pleasure. levi pulls his fingers out of you and you watch with half lidded eyes as he sucks your slick off of them. he's eating you as if you're the best thing he's ever tasted, and to him you are. his fingers move to your clit, harshly rubbing back and forth on your already too sensitive bud and your whole body reacts. levi watches in awe as your head falls back and you arch closer to him, your hips subconsciously moving in time with his fingers. your eyes go wide as you feel his tongue enter you, your hand tightening in his hair as you cry out. the groan he lets into you is pornographic and it's enough to send you over the edge a third time. sad to see you go, was sorta hopin’ that you’d stay if only you could see how beautiful you look right now, he thinks as he stands before you once again. his hand comes around your throat, pulling you to face him before he roughly connects his lips to yours. his tongue explores your mouth and you can taste yourself on him as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. his clothed (extremely hard) cock rubs against your aching center, no doubt ruining his pants with your slick, and he grunts into your mouth. you pull away from the heated make out session, a trail of saliva connecting your lips "please let me touch you" you would give anything to get a taste of him. he doesn't respond, instead he pulls you down and bends you over his desk, fully exposing your soaked pussy and ass to him. you hear clothes rustling behind you and he pulls your wrists behind your back using his belt to tie them in place. you feel the head of his cock run through your folds and you can't help the shaky breath you release. a sudden smack lands on your ass and you gasp, the pain causing your eyes to tear up. "how pathetic." he lands another blow onto your other cheek, harsh enough to make you jump, and you moan. "you would do anything for my cock wouldn't you? what a perfect little slut i found." he continues his harsh assault on your ass and you can feel your juices run down your legs, the hot stinging on your skin only fueling your arousal. "do you know how long i've waited for this? i've wanted to fuck that pretty mouth of yours ever since your smart ass asked me to train you." his hands rub over your cheeks, parting them for a second. "but i'll have to save that for next time." next time. "right now you need to be put in your place." his tip stretches you open and you whimper when he stills, his cock barely in you. his hand harshly grips your hair and he pulls, making your head up come up off his desk while the other grips tightly onto your hip, no doubt leaving a bruise. "beg." the command sends heat to your face and you're embarrassed by how turned on it makes you, but at this point you don't care. "please levi, please fuck me-"he grunts "good girl". he roughly slams into you and due to the position your neck is in you can't help but let out a strangled moan. you can't hold back your cries as his hips set a steady pace. it feels like his fat cock is splitting you open and tears stream down your face as the pain and pleasure overwhelm you. you're a sobbing moaning mess beneath him, and he picks up the pace, roughly fucking your abused cunt. your strangled cries have him concerned until he feels how deliciously you pulse around his large cock. he can't seem to focus on anything else as he repeatedly slams into you, his cock hitting all the right places. in the back of his mind a voice tells him he should probably shut you up considering erwin's office is right next door, and dinner is no doubt long over by now. but he can't help it, your voice sounds so good like this, the repeated "unh"'s and occasional curses are a symphony to his music loving ears. erwin will just have to deal with it for now. he feels you flutter around him and he can't help but grunt. you feel so good he considers kicking you from the scouts and keeping you to himself. "l-levi" his name comes out in a choked sob and he can tell you're close again. "go ahead and cum on my cock, brat." he lands a particularly hard slap on your ass and you come undone around him. you grip him so tightly he can't help but to cum with you, gods your cunt is squeezing around him so deliciously. his hips stutter and a long growl rumbles in his chest as he fills you. baby we both know that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day "i'm not done with you yet." you let out a sob as he grabs onto your bound wrists, pulling your shoulders flush against his chest so that you're standing against him with one leg bent on the table. contrary to your cries your pussy gushes around his still hard cock. your leg shakes, barely able to support your own weight, and his strong hold keeps you against him. his hand wraps around your throat and rubs circles into your skin with his thumb while his other hand brushes your hair out of your face and traces along your curves to rest on your hip. he lightly kisses across your shoulder blade. "one more y/n, you think you can do that for me?" your tears mix with the sweat on his chest and you lay your head back against his shoulder, struggling to catch your breath. you nod and he connects your lips in a tender kiss as his hips return to their thrusting. you are in heaven surely, levi must have killed you for cursing at him earlier and your sick fantasies must be playing out in your mind before you take your final breath. you can't even think properly, your mind producing only one clear thought "levi-". his name falls from your lips like a mantra and he decides that your moans are his favorite song. his hand tightens around your throat, your mind blanking as your oxygen is restricted. your pussy flutters around him and the small grunts and curses he lets out into your ear make your head spin. "p-please levi-" you can barely form the words as his cock reduces you to a blabbering mess. he loosens his hold on your throat and his other hand starts rubbing your clit. you yelp and tightly squeeze your eyes closed "please let me touch you." too busy bein’ yours to fall his thrusts slow and his hand stills, as if he's contemplating your request. he answers you by slowly pulling out of you, catching you when you nearly fall over. he removes the belt from your wrists and gently massages them with his hands. "c'mere" he mumbles. he helps you around his desk, choosing to ignore the papers spread on the floor, and sits in his chair. he helps you onto his lap and you slowly sink onto him, causing both of you to release an airy moan. you start to set a pace, your hands bracing yourself on his chest as you use his cock to get off. levi's breath catches in his throat as he watches you, mesmerized by how captivating you look like this. he silently tries to commit this moment to memory as vividly as possible. his fingertips lightly trace over your nipples and down the marks he's left over your body. he gently squeezes your hip when goosebumps appear across your skin from his touch. you ever thought of callin’ darlin’? you look at him and see him wearing a small smile and you can't fight back the smile that overtakes your features, he's perfect. levi curses under his breath at the sight, swearing that your smile is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his painful existence. he feels tears threaten to brim his eyes and he quickly pulls you into him, crashing his lips against yours. your arms come around his neck as the passion in his kiss makes you breathless. he never wants to stop kissing you, the taste of your lips is intoxicating to him and he thanks whatever is listening for bringing you into his life. you feel him twitch in you and you can tell he's close, yet he makes no move to control your pace. you smile against him and you pull away, resting your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you put your hand on his cheek. a familiar feeling floods into your chest along with a sense of deja vu. levi puts his hand over yours and brings the other to rub your clit as a warmth he's grown accustomed to feeling around you blooms in his chest. he pulls your hand away from his face, interlacing your fingers together as he feels you approaching your climax. you squeeze his hand as you cum, your head falling to his shoulder and biting the crook of his neck to silence your cries. after a few seconds your name falls from his lips, his hand squeezing yours as he comes undone.

do you want me crawlin’ back to you?

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"i can see why they say you're the best humanity has to offer." he chuckles at your comment and kisses your hand interlaced with his before his arms wrap around you, causing you to arch into him as you sit on his lap. his head rests in the crook of your neck and he responds with a gruff "not funny" into your skin. the vibrations tickle you and you laugh at his comment. you feel him smile against you. "you love it." your voice comes out just above a whisper. your hand runs through his hair as the other traces languid circles on his shoulder. he pulls you into him tighter, if that's even possible, and plants a light kiss on your cheek. "we need to clean." "levi i can't walk." "i know dumbass, by we i meant me. you can sit there and look pretty." "ok."

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bro this shit is so hard to write