#rereading adornment and was like. hm

[thedeafprophet]

also while I Am a fan of Tuffs' writing, i do remain that his writing does have carry over of issues that the other writers in Fallen London, namely the christanity-centric-assumptions type deal lol

[hwallazia]

WE KNOW II – 박성화

synopsis . in which you should’ve known better before messing up with park seonghwa. | PART ONE

pairing . park seonghwa & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), some fluff at the end (yes i’m guilty), mafia!au, strangers to acquaintances?

taglist . @bro-atz @hrts4nohee | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 3k

DISCLAIMER! mean dom!seonghwa, sub! reader, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl!), slight degradation (reader is referred as “slut” & “whore” only once), nicknames (baby, beautiful, princess, darling & more), daddy kink, bulge kink?, oral sex (m & f receiving), non-explicit aftercare, cowgirl position, lmk if I missed anything!

NIC’S NOTES and here she isss! sorry I took so long, I swear I literally dug that idea out of my head also, this may have a ridiculous amount of mistakes, but I’ll reread it soon and correct them. but well, the important thing is that she’s finally here! so I hope you enjoy it ♡

Your instincts and little motor ability guided you, as your legs were severely numb from the number of sensations that overwhelmed your body. A gentle grip on your waist kept you sane and stable, making your feet advance in confusion without knowing their destination. Your eardrum was becoming more and more sensitive to the warm air that Seonghwa released through his mouth and nostrils. Little by little, you were melting into his touch.

“Don’t faint just yet, beautiful,” His intoxicating tone of voice flushing your skin. “We have quite the night up ahead.”

Your dizzy head tried to send a warning signal to your vague and rather sleepy neurons. You were about to plunge into an even bigger problem than the one you already had on your back and you weren't realizing it.

Your nervousness and numb limbs were fogging your brain up, leaving a very submissive you as a result, vulnerable to Seonghwa’s touch.

You suddenly stopped walking, your head and trunk wobbling slightly from the abrupt stop. You watched as the man’s hand reached for the door handle to turn it and lead you to a dark, cool room. The cold air condensed your tremors and you blinked a few times to allow your eyes to get used to the darkness that surrounded you and thus try to decipher Seonghwa’s intentions.

You heard the lock and instinctively turned around, finding yourself with the closed door and the masculine and slender silhouette of Seonghwa, his face being blurred by the lack of lighting. “Hm, it’s been a while since I’ve done this,” You heard his hoarse, deep voice. “Looks like I’m in luck.”

You watched as he approached you dangerously, a devilish smirk adorning his plump lips. Your breathing hitched for a few seconds as you felt him rest his long hands on your hips, his penetrating gaze peering through your soul and stabbing daggers into it. Your eyes were caught in a funny loop between seeing his eyes and his lips.

“Where should I start?” His hands went up from your hips to your back, one of them rubbing your bare shoulder and the other playing with the zipper of your elegant dress. Both making a collective effort to strip you of the silk fabric. “Normally, I’d ask if you’re okay with all this,” He tilted his head slightly to let out a soft sigh. “But you didn’t come here with good intentions, didn’t you?”

“I can’t give you a nice night if you didn’t either, love.” Finally, your dress slid down your body smoothly, your divine figure at Seonghwa’s mercy. Chills ran down your spine when you felt him curse under his breath, but you went icy the moment he abruptly brought your lips together in a kiss. There was so much hate in it and so much lust and a lot of things that weren’t exactly said and wouldn’t be if it were up to the two of you.

The abruptness of the kiss made you release a gasp, perfect for Seonghwa to insert his tongue into your oral cavity, a whine coming out of you in response. That kiss left your head spinning and a dangerous pool of heat was starting to build up down there. Your lips parted for a second to catch some breath, “Do it again. Please.”

Your request caused a shit-eating grin to decorate Seonghwa’s face. Some sense of power filling his ego up. He wasted no time in picking you up, placing his hands on your buttocks for support, and guiding you to the large bed in the meantime. A faint whimper was heard, as with your legs partially spread Seonghwa was likely to notice the embarrassing wetness staining your underwear, which you knew he would soon remove with his own hands. However, you had already made a home in his arms, you felt comfortable and immune to any harm in his strong arms.

Once he left you spread out on the bed, you resumed the sizzling kiss and the desire that had been on hold for a few seconds soon dominated your behavior. Your arms had already caught the sides of Seonghwa’s neck, and his hands had already taken up the habit of groping your waist and breasts.

“Fuck, I can do this all night long. Touch you like this,” He whispered breathlessly, a cool breeze making your skin crawl even when the atmosphere was suffocating enough for a normal person to sweat. “Wanna taste you so badly though..”

A soft whine from you was heard, causing Seonghwa to smirk. You were so vulnerable to every word, sigh, command. That man was becoming your new addiction, one you never wanted to get out of.

His hands ran all over your leg, creating a new constellation as he dragged his phalanges over every single mole and mark he met at the moment; your breath hitching every time. Seonghwa absolutely loved how pliant you were under his fingers, how submissive you could become if he pushed the right buttons. And how your thighs shuddered in excitement when his mouth was finally positioned in front of your cunt? His sanity was gone by then.

And speaking about buttons. He pressed the one that made your lips release a satisfied sigh. 

“S-seonghwa,” You squirmed under him, his arms flexing at your breathless cry. “Please.”

“Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” A silent whimper was heard as just a vague breath as his lips pressed a kiss against your inner thigh; his hands stroking it fondly. “Behave. And then I’ll give you what you want.”

You nodded vigorously, your senseless state preventing you from formulating any coherent sentences. But Seonghwa was apparently not satisfied with your answer, his palm flattening against your outer thigh after mercilessly smacking it; a loud moan coming from you in response. “Answer me, you bitch.”

“Y-yes! Hmgh, yes daddy..” You stuttered under your breath, your mind being too fucked out to realize what had just left your lips.

“You into that?” A low chuckle coming out of him, not believing your words. “Fine, I can work with that.”

Finally, he dived in, his tongue starting to swim in your wetness; a nasty sound resonating all over the room. The only possible reaction for your body was to arch your back, stretch your legs, and open them even more; surrendering to the malicious pleasure that was being provided to you by Seonghwa. That’s when you decided to give in to desire and Seonghwa and his dirty fantasies.

His tongue swirling and lapping your clit made you see stars; you swore you could hear colors. Its tip was reaching spots you didn’t even know existed, his tongue pressing exquisitely against your pleasure button. Your hips studdered in attempts to move away from the mattress, but Seonghwa’s strong hands restricted any movement.

Your hands clung to the silk sheets as if your life depended on it; your knuckles turning a pinkish white. For some reason, you didn’t dare to tangle his silky hair between your fingers, something was stopping you. Seonghwa was doing an excellent job of making you see the stars and planets, you couldn’t ask for more. Right?

Your moans gradually grow louder and the wet squelching sounds of dripping center bounce on the walls, “More, Hwa. Please.” You released a broken sob; your breath quivering, nails now digging into your palm.

“So fucking greedy.” His husky voice and dark chuckle resonated inside your eardrums, “What do you want, love? My fingers?”

A bothered and childish mhm from you was heard. “Want your cock.”

You glanced down at him, meeting his dark gaze. You almost fainted when you saw him between your legs, his large pupils dilated by the ecstasy, the corner of his lips stained by your wetness. He looked so docile beneath you, but you knew that with just one command from him, you would get on all fours and a dog collar would magically appear around your neck. 

‘If I come out of this alive, it would be interesting to try it’, you thought.

“Well, aren’t you a needy little whore?” He separated from your cunt to move up to your lips and seal your protests. His tongue, once again, dominating your thoughts and mouth, “But you’re not in control tonight, sweetheart.” 

You felt how, in an agile movement, his hand grasped your hair, taking a fistful of it, forcing you to stand up and allowing Seonghwa to manipulate you like a doll. 

“On your knees, doll.” His hand grabbed your hair in such a way that you could observe every feature of his face; of course it hurt you, but you were so lost in studying those irises, deep like the ocean, that nose, perfectly sculpted, that frown that you even considered cute, and those lips, so hot that you could burn yourself to hell with just one caress.

The pain began to get more intense, so you knelt and sighed internally as you felt his grip loosen up a little. You were face to face with his prominent erection, struggling to come out of the uncomfortable fabric that had imprisoned it for so long.

Your eyebrows fluttered as you looked up at him. His frown and swollen lips constituted his twisted face; his hands working hard and desperately trying to remove the garment. His pants pooled down his ankles and his length shot out, hitting and bouncing against your nose.

“Come on, baby. Suck it like a good girl.” His fingers traced a funny line all along your scalp, holding your hair in a ponytail; his leaking tip right on your lips

And you were more than happy to oblige. You parted your lips widely enough so that at least half of his length entered your oral cavity; you were well aware that there was no physical law or mathematical rule that would allow you to put his whole cock in your mouth, but you would do everything you could to return the favor and make him feel as good as he made you feel.

You heard Seonghwa hiss and curse under his breath. The pressure he kept on your ponytail grew stronger, but you couldn’t care less. Your hands and mouth were too busy satisfying Seonghwa’s big, hard cock. Your doe-eyed gaze looked up at him and met his tensed jawline, your pupils suddenly turning into pink, shiny hearts.

“Come on, doll. You can do better than that.” His praise was followed by a deep groan, his hand guiding your head further, “You can take it all in. Right, princess?”

You closed your eyes tightly like a scared child, trying not to gag around it. You had to show him that you were a good girl, and you would do it by giving him the best blowjob of his life.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Show me what that pretty mouth can do,” He praised through gritted teeth; his breath hitched, his muscles tensed, “Work for it, love. I’m almost there,”

You complied with his order, sucking harder with greater force. You wanted his mind to melt with all the pleasure you were giving him, for his body to surrender to yours. He hissed as soon as he noticed how you complied with his command.

“So fucking pliant. God,” He heaved a sigh. His free hand running through his silky, now sweaty hair, “You love sucking my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy,” You yearned, your lips forming a cute smile, without showing your teeth. Your glaze-over eyes caused Seonghwa to utter some profanity you couldn’t quite understand.

“Can’t wait anymore,” You heard him say breathlessly. 

His hand caught your shoulder and gently pulled it up, indirectly ordering you to stand up. Once on your feet, your knees felt partially sore. His hand guided you towards the bed again, but you stopped when you saw that he was the one who lay down first, his back flat against the headboard.

Seonghwa analyzed your state from the bed; messy hair, messy lipstick, mascara dripping from the sides of your eyes, exquisitely erect nipples, neck and thighs marked with bites and red hickeys. ‘A sight for sore eyes’, he thought.

He patted his lap a few times and locked gazes with you, “Get in here and ride me, doll.”

Your body quivered in excitement and you quickly climbed onto the bed to straddle his lap, his hardening cock making contact with your wet folds. You unconsciously began to move against his length seeking relief or some sort of friction. Seonghwa was quick to catch your hips in his hands, stopping your desperate movement.

“Desperate, are we?” He whispered, almost dismissively, “What did I say earlier, love?”

“That I have to behave,” You repeated as if you had studied his words.

“Good girl,” He grabbed almost tenderly your cheek and joined your lips once again in a feverish kiss. You were so immersed in the feelings that kiss caused you that you didn’t realize the moment in which Seonghwa slid his fat cock inside you, a broken moan pouring out of your lips.

“F...Fuck, Seonghwa. Be gentle- mgh!” You stumbled over your words as you felt him so deep inside you, a perfectly formed lump in your belly. Your breath hitched the moment you felt him shift in his place, his cock deliciously reaching unknown spots.

The way he threw his head back due to the tightness of your walls made you squeeze him even more. He had his eyes shut tightly as he breathed in heavily, large beads of sweat rolling on his temple and hanging on for dear life on his sharp jawline.

Yes, that mere vision had you moaning and your throwing your head back.

Exactly a minute passed and Seonghwa hadn’t performed a single move. Your desperation was beginning to overflow and you found no other way to show him your impatience other than by whining like a baby.

“Daddyy, please move,” You cried out; doe-eyed as you stared at him.

“Show me how badly you want my cock, doll.” He muttered faintly in a low voice. 

You had said unimaginable things that night. It couldn’t hurt to lose a little more dignity.

“Pleaseee, daddy. I need your cock so badly, need you to fill me up and fuck my brains out,” Your heart was intensely hammering your ribs; your heartbeat deafening your eardrums.

“If you don’t shove your cock inside me, then I’ll do it.” You protested.

“Do it then. Fuck yourself on my cock, silly girl.” 

And he didn’t have to tell you twice. You began to bounce on his cock as if your life depended on it, your hands using his broad shoulders as support. Shattered moans and husky grunts filled the room up, the clash between your skins being the main sound of the symphony. 

“S-seonghwa- Nghh, ahh! You’re so.. sooo- ugh!” You had lost the ability to formulate intelligible sentences the moment Seonghwa started hammering his hips into yours.

“So what? So deep that you can’t even think straight anymore?” A weird combination between a strained moan and a chuckle left his lips, “I really did fuck your brains out, huh?”

Seonghwa asked you and you didn’t even have the time to agree before another loud cry left your swollen, red lips. Accordingly, he abruptly shoved two of his fingers into your mouth, muffling your moans and keeping them at an ideal volume —low enough so that no one would think he was killing you.

Your mind was completely mush by then; his thrusts grew harder, faster and sloppier, his fingers eventually leaving your hot mouth. You were sure that with a couple of thrusts, Seonghwa would open the doors of an unknown heaven for you, pushing you into an eccentric abyss of pleasure.

“Right there! Ugh right the fuck there..” You sobbed brokenly, “I’m gonna- c-cum, ahh! Please daddy, can I? Pleasepleaseplease,”

“Cum, pretty girl. Make a mess all over my cock,”

And with no delay, you squirted like champagne, staining his cock and the expensive sheets with your fluids. You let Seonghwa manipulate your body as he pleased to reach his high as well. Overstimulation being very sensitive and toe-curling but with your priority being Seonghwa’s release, you couldn’t care less.

“Fucking hell, you’re squeezing down on me- ah! so hard..” His breath hitched for the last time that night; his muscles tensing with your recent release, “Gonna cum inside you and fill you up so fucking good. Gonna be walking with my cum dripping out of your pussy for a week,”

And he did. He filled you to the bone the moment he hammered his hips against yours for the last time. He remained still for a couple of seconds as he felt his cock twitch inside your warm, squishy walls.

You caught you breath after a few minutes in silence, finally settling into bed; both of you lying down while Seonghwa wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you close to him.

“Well, wasn’t that supposed to be a punishment?” You question.

“Are you complaining?”

“No,” A cute giggle came out of you, ”So, what do we do now?”

“We both go back to our lives, of course,”

You knew it would end like this. But why does it hurt you a little?

A moment of uncomfortable silence came in. Until Seonghwa decided to break it, “Let’s exchange numbers. Maybe we can keep on talking? You know, I could help you with your work and you could help me with mine.”

A fond smile decorated your lips, your iris suddenly turning into shiny bulbs, “Sounds good to me,”

You settled back into his arms, finding warmth in them. A warmth and security that you haven’t felt in a long time. His calm breathing numbed your eyelids, which were beginning to close little by little. Finally you were immersed in a soft, ideal world of dreams and stars, surrounded by Seonghwa’s arms.

Maybe, after all, your boyfriend was something you could get over with

| masterlist

[elliesfavflavor]

multiple ding sounds coming from ellie's phone wakes you up from your zoned out situation. "ellie" you call. "babe? its your phone" you speak again. she doesn't seem to hear. you lean towards the buzzing device in curiousity, wondering what was so urgent. its then you furrow your brows in confusion, seeing the notification that doesn't make sense at all. you take the phone, rereading the 'this is the last time i'm gonna cover you up' text under jesse's picture. cover her? what? you unlock your girlfriends phone and click messages, worrying if she had any troubles she couldn't mention you about lately. this has happened before, so that was your guess to this absurd reach. it takes seconds for you to realize the little 'archive' box with '1' symbol on its side, just over jesse's chat. you don't put much thought clicking. she knew everything inside and out of your phone, just as you did. the bizarre thing was that you never noticed that archive section before. was it new..? oh... it was. so was the chat with the girl you certainly don't recognize. you wonder why she didn't tell you about this new friend of hers.not going any further into the phone, you push the off button and place it on the couch next to you. your pupils dilate as the brain regenerates the text under her picture, saying 'okay. miss you though :(' grabbing the phone back as if its going to run away, you enter the chat in one quick motion. not a gesture playing on your face, you scroll and scroll into your girlfriends intimate texts with this stranger. you put the phone back, staring into void and not moving an inch with absolute shock running through your veins. ellie's footsteps coming out of the shower can be heard. she shows up on the living room with outside clothes, drying her wet hair with the towel while looking for her keys. "babe, did jesse call?" she says. "no." you respond, not even taking a glance at her. you still couldn't comprehend what you saw. "uh... he called earlier, i think he needs help with the computer again" she states, tying up her damp hair to a half down facing the mirror. you don't answer. "...i'll be home in an hour or two, yeah?" she makes her way to the couch you're on, placing a kiss on your cheek. she grabs the phone next to you and head the entrance. "i love you" she says bobbing her head, seeking the slightest reaction from you, almost like she's aware of the strange ambiance. you let out a cackle in irony, still not facing her. "yeah, drive safe."

the muffled clicking sound of a key is heard across the room. you're on the same couch you've been sitting before she left. she places the keys on the table, sitting the facing fold of the L couch. if it was a regular night, you'd be babbling about how she shouldn't sit with the outside clothes. it was not a regular night. you eyes were locked on the colorful advertisement playing on the tv, as if you were watching the most thrilling show on earth. "no greeting... at all?" she says with a brow up. "sure, hi." you respond, reaching for the popcorn on your lap, not averting your gaze from the changing colors. her eyes meet the wine you two have been saving for important events. "is something wrong?" leaning her head to the side, she wishes your eyes meet hers. "no, not at all" you tune. "so, uh." the smallest cackle escapes your mouth. "so how was she?" you ask, completely facing her as you grab another popcorn. she froze for a moment, not understanding what you meant. she fixes her posture. "hm?". its clear shes utterly confused."was everything alright with her?" you ask, your voice comes off as if you were actually worried. a forced, mocking smile adorns your face. she stayed silent for a few seconds, the awareness spreading through her body with the fear following after. "what..?" she says hesitantly, her voice shaky. you munch on your popcorn slowly, leaning your head on the couch with that creepy smile remaining. you don't say a word. she knows. she has no way out of this. no lie to tell, nothing to put into words at all. "who... did you talk to jesse?" the trembling in her voice is audible. she stares at you harsh, focused. "how come i.." your eyes meet the ground. "how come i didn't realize what a fucking bitch you were all these time?" you spit as they meet her eyes just back. "hey" she stands, her brows now shaping a mourning look. not wasting a second you hop up, throwing the popcorn bag on your hand to the couch. letting the corn pieces make a mess all over the living room, you head towards the bedroom to grab the already packed suitcase. with tears running down your cheeks, you dodge her grips with swift motions and drag the case loudly across the floor. it was no use, no valid explanation for what she had been doing. "baby, hey" she's calling you from behind. "shut the fuck up" you hiss, your pace fastening towards the entrance. "where do you think you're going?" she reaches you, blocking your way with her hands on your arms. her voice is tense, her gaze is deadly. you don't answer her, your tears almost leaving prints on your face. freeing your hand and taking the key she left on the cabinet near, you push her with your other hand and speed up to the door. "don't! goddamn it." she rushes behind you, blocking your way again. "fucking move!" you shout, your vision is blurry now. she holds your arms tight again, not willing to let go. "just let me catch a fucking breath alright? i'll explain, please" she says desperately, her expression is frantic as shes remaining her grip, shaking you to come to your senses. as if you were the one who should. "no!" you try escaping but shes obviously prepared. between the tries of freeing yourself, your sobs grow audible. you sense the madness washing away with the heartbreak taking over. "no! i don't wanna!" you don't take a glance at her, swaying your arms to free them from her. your body weakening as you look down, and around, as if she's not gonna see your tears if you don't face her. "please, god, just let me explain!" she keeps saying, begging with her eyes. tears roll down on her cheeks, trying to meet the pace of yours. she held you tightly, trying to find anything, any words that could make you stay. "look im sorry! i didn't think it was gonna get this far, i am an idiot!" she sobs, her grip on your arm loosening, as she bats her eyes at you with tears, pleading for forgiveness. your rushed movements ease up, you look down. your voice comes out raspy. "i don't ever, and ever, wanna see you again. do you understand me?" she grabs you again as you reach for the

door handle. "no! wait!" she says desperately "don't go" she cries, holding you tight. "please, just please" she sobs, her body shaking from the rush of emotions she is experiencing. her eyes wet, she tries to wipe a tear without you noticing. "ellie, move." your voice is calm yet demanding. "n..no" she refuses. "please i can't lose you... i don't want.." she tries to from words. "lets work this out... please." you try to sound decent as you speak up "w...how could you do this? what were you thinking? why? how did this happen, where did you find her, since when? i don't get it ellie, why?" she froze again with your words. she felt her throat getting clogged with the urge to cry, her eyes filling with tears again. her brain wasn't working, all she could think of was excuses and explanations, but she couldn't find the correct words. her grip loosens again, her fingers loosening and falling. she's still processing what she feels, unable to respond, unable to say anything. "that's what i thought" you say. with tears rushing back again, you push her and bang the door on her face. you left the suitcase behind.

[heartfullofleeches]

I MISS SUCROSE I WAS REREADING ALL THE SUCROSE STUFF THEY READ MY MIND

Sucrose our og candy freak. They definitely have the most personality out of them all and arguably one of the cutest - if you don't mind them shoving their taffy parts (like fingers ya weirdos) down your throat. A little snippet for you and the other anon.

-

"Awe, did ya really miss me, gumdrop? Really, really? I've worked on a new recipe every day since we've been apart and since you've finally come back I can give you the latest one - ta-da!" Sucrose presents to you what appears to be a cherry sundae topped with copious amounts of cherries, pink tinted whip cream - and their own left eye. The glass was rimmed with cherry red syrup - the same of which adorned the top scoop of ice cream in the general shape of a heart.

"The syrup is, of course, my blood. Chopped up bits of my heart and mixed it into the ice cream batter. Grew the cherries myself and the cream....hm, I'm sure you figure out that part on your own. I'd wink if I still had both eyes."

The candy fiend whips out a spoon from their apron and scoops up a nice serving of the treat, holding it out for you to sample. "Don't be shy, it's only polite if I give you the first bite. If you don't like it or ever think about leaving me again - I'll remake it using the blood and guts of those less deserving of your love that you still decide to share it with."

Sucrose jostles their arm, making airplane noises as they sail the spoon into your agap mouth. " haha, there we go - sound good, gumdrop?"

[ladygenius]

Better than any candy

Hope you're still somewhat feeling the spooky season but I mean, mgg would approve.. right?🎃 (and Spencer probably too) also: this gif💘 Don't we just love him?

description: sadly, your BAU Halloween party is cancelled.. you have an idea to save the genius's favorite day though

pairing: Spencer Reid x (gn) baureader (except for the costume of a female movie character)

content: fluffety fluff

warnings: mentions of food, insecurities, the occasional swear word

wordcount: 1.7k ish

>> if ya like ma' work, rebloggin' don't hurt <<

"What do you mean, the party's blown?!" The doctor shouted in high-pitched disbelief. 

"I know sugarpie, I am so sorry.. I know how much you were looking forward to it. But it's just.. Kevin surprised me with this romantic trip totally out of the blue and, I just couldn't say no." Penelope tried to explain herself, guilt clearly visible in her features.

"You're not mad though, are you?" her Bambi eyes working at full force to relieve herself of the weight on her conscience.

"No, of course not.. it's just.. I've already gotten a costume and we all could have spent some time together" the caramel-haired genius lamented as his eyes landed on another one of his co-workers.

"But maybe we could just meet at Rossi's place then?" eyes growing all hopeful.

"Oh, nu-uh my young friend. I truly am sorry to disappoint you but a night full of tasteless gory costumes and annoying kids begging for candy at my doorstep? No, thanks. I'll be out of town visiting an old friend at a jazz bar." 

With a declining gesture, David made his way back into his office leaving Reid sitting all pouting in the bullpen. An adorable frown resting on his forehead.

You observed all of this closely from afar while pretending to read through a file. Well, if you're favorite genius is feeling so bummed out about his precious Halloween night being taken away from him.. you guess you'll know exactly what to do about this. A cheeky smile crept onto your lips.

// later that day //

"Hey Spence.. got any Plan B going on for the night of all nights tomorrow?" you chimed, clearly with some mischief traceable in your tone.

“N-no, not really, actually.. I really was looking forward to spending it at Garcia’s. What about you, y/n?” 

“Hm, no, me neither” your gaze wandered through the room as if looking for something as you continued to reveal your ‘spontaneous’ plan.

“But you know what? Why don’t we just hang out together? Grab some food, watch a scary horror movie.. after all, we can’t just cancel Halloween altogether, right?”

You had to bite your cheeks at the adorable way the genius’s face lit up in excitement, stopping yourself from grinning like a total dork. 

“Yeah, that, um.. that sounds like an amazing plan B, actually” Spencer nodded in agreement as his gaze dropped down to his own desk again, seemingly concentrating on his work. 

Well then, let’s bring this on.

// the next evening //

You went through all the bullet points of your huge checklist (once again). Pumpkins, gourds, jack-o-lanterns, spiderwebs, bats, red fairy lights, ghosts - check. 

Pumpkin spice muffins, black fruit punch, snacks - check. Spooky Halloween playlist, DVDs - check. 

And last but not least, you eyed your outfit in the mirror once again. Your hair styled in a mid-part, eyes all dolly and adorned by spider lashes, bluish-toned makeup, and stitches painted all over your face and arms to enhance the fact that you’re sewn together. 

This should do it, you smiled. Still not able to shake off the nervousness in your whole body when thinking about your plans for tonight. 

Once more you looked at your phone rereading Spencer’s adorably confused text he last sent you:

“I’m on my way. I just don’t get why you told me to wear my costume.. Aren't we staying at your place?” 

You were eager to reply of course.. yet, you didn’t want to spoil the surprise either. You just hoped he actually did what you had told him.. otherwise, this would be kind of weird. 

A knocking at your door brought you back from your thoughts. 

Heart beating loud in your chest, you went to open it, only to find a (thank god) costumed Spencer Reid at the other side of the threshold, greeting you with an insecure smile. The latter grew wide in pleasant surprise as soon as he noticed your own masquerade. 

"Wow y/n.. your costume, I mean - you look awesome. Sally.. what a great idea!"

"Thanks, Spence" you giggled shyly, "You don't look too bad yourself, Doctor" trying to wink at him somewhat flirtily considering the wordplay since he was dressed up as the doctor from doctor who - obviously.

As you further opened the door to let the doc get a good glimpse at your apartment you could basically hear his jaw drop.

His eyes slowly took in all you had prepared for tonight - from the blinking fairy lights all the way to the carved pumpkins and the decorations.

"Um, is anyone else coming as well, or..?"

"Nope. Just you & I" your stomach bubbly at your choice of words, "I know it's a little too much but-"

"What?! It's amazing! Seriously, y/n.. this is without exaggeration the coolest thing anyone's ever done" Spencer reassured you enthusiastically.

"Well, I'm glad you like it, Spence." 

"Wait. So.. you did all of this just for me, though? But y/n.. why?"

Oh boy. 

"Why wouldn't I? I mean.. we've all been looking forward to the party at Garcia's and I-I just couldn't stand seeing you so bummed out about it."

The stone in your stomach grew bigger as you felt yourself getting timid but you weren't gonna let that happen again, not tonight.  

"And also.. because you deserve it, Spence. All of this. Besides,.. there's nothing quite as adorable as seeing your face light up when you're talking about Halloween." You felt the blood rushing to your cheeks, only the bluish-toned makeup keeping your feelings from being fully exposed.

This time he was the one looking down shyly, a cute chuckle escaping his throat. 

"Well, then I don't know how to thank you. This is easily the nicest thing anyone will probably ever do for me, y/n." 

If you didn't know any better you'd suspect the gleam in his hazel eyes to be forming tears but you shook off the idea and blamed it on the fairy lights instead. 

"Oh, don’t be silly, doc, it wasn’t that big of a deal” - you clearly handle emotional moments well. “Better go crazy on the buffet before we're running out of black cat cookies." Your hand playfully punched his chest as you grabbed one of the treats and delightfully bit of its head.  

"Alright, alright.." he couldn't help but laugh at your dramatic gesture. "Whatever the Queen of Halloween demands."

"Should we then maybe compare how much you actually nailed your outfit?" Spencer questioned, as he picked out Nightmare Before Christmas from the stack of DVDs on the living room table, his gorgeous grin warming your whole body from the inside out. 

"I'd love to, Spence."

Thank God, no scary movie. I'm freaked out enough, already.

As you were sitting next to each other on the couch, a good while into the movie, you occasionally exchanged shy glances and soft smiles, your bodies close to each other yet never allowing to touch. The lack of it almost driving you insane.

This got even worse when the actual Sally started singing about her insecurity regarding Jack's feelings towards her. 

God, y/n, get it together. This is a children's movie, for fuck’s sake.  

But somehow, this was just the last push you needed. Suddenly, you felt your body scooting just a little closer to Spencer, placing your head on his shoulder as casual as possible.

"Is this okay?" 

"Uh-yeah.. sure" his raspy voice gave slightly irritated consent. You observed his hand fidgeting on his lap a couple of times before he moved to put his arm around you. This unfamiliar contact between the two of you made the thoughts spin in your head.

"You know what, Spence?" you looked up at him from the side, gaining his full attention, "I kinda was relieved when I heard that Garcia had to cancel", - earning a confused frown at this point - "because the only one I really wanted to spend this night with is sitting right next to me." 

The confusion on his features was replaced by eyes wide in astonishment and his cheeks blushing in a beautiful pink hue. 

His eyes this time, however, didn't leave your own anymore - and neither did yours. 

You knew that he knew now. The twinkle in his eyes let you know.

"Y/n.." he carefully took your hand into his like it might break otherwise and intertwined your fingers, still looking for words. You squeezed his hand gently for reassurance, thumb stroking its back. 

"Spencer Reid”, a slight tremor rushing over his whole figure at the sound of his name - “I think I'm in love with you."

You weren't even sure you heard the words coming out of your own mouth, your voice just above a whisper. But not even your makeup could cover up the truth any longer, it was all out in the open now. 

Mere inches away from each other's faces, you tried to search his expression for some kind of signal. But before you could start to regret your previous move Spencer was already the one to take the leap and latch his lips onto yours ever so gently.

Nothing could have prepared you for how soft his lips felt against your own - not even the countless scenarios in which you've imagined just that. 

He let go of you for a moment, leaving you all dizzy with his taste on your lips. The soft and loving gaze you were met with not helping to come back to reality either. 

"Well, as for me, I know for a fact I'm utterly in love with you too, y/n" his shy confession almost made you tear up, never had you actually believed you'd hear him say these words. 

So you did the only thing keeping you from crying - you tangled your hands inside his hair and pulled him in to put your endorphins to good use. 

This mission, however, was put to an abrupt end as the doorbell brought you back to the world around you - trick or treaters.

"Oh shit, I totally forgot about this part of the tradition for some reason.. at least I'd say we're well prepared. That's of course, only if you're fine with giving away some of our limited treats" your gaze wandered over to the still pretty stacked table. 

He laughed heartily at your question. "Y/n, I still stand by how I appreciate all your efforts for tonight but don't worry. What I got today, was much better than any candy." He sealed this line by a courtly kiss of your hand, the look in his eyes the most heart melting sight you've ever laid eyes on.  

"I couldn't agree more, doc." 

A silly beam adorned your features as you both got up to collect the candy you were giving the kids.

This all truly just happened. Damnit. It hit you that you really gotta remember to thank Garcia about a thousand times when she gets back from her trip.

You gave Spencer a quick peck on the cheek just when you realized his amused grin.

"What?"

"Oh, um, nothing.. but I guess we should rewind the movie a little afterwards.. for some reason we're already into the credits. I guess we missed some of it."

Oh well, you were more than pleased with the fact that fake Sally managed to capture his attention tonight better than the real one.

[queenaeducan-writes]

onomatology

While studying Elvhen with Solas, Thora comes upon a familiar word.

A repost of an older Solas & Thora ficlet I wrote for my rp blog. A small headcanon for context: I headcanon ‘Solas’ as being the first name of Solas’ many names that he chose for himself, and so holds special importance to him.

The bed creaks as Thora shifts on it, but it isn’t enough to make him look up from his book. At least, not until he hears a sharp inhale that heralds the question he’s sure will follow. “Solas,” she says, but it does not sound like his name. The book she’s holding falls into her lap, giving him a glimpse of the Elvhen upon the page, written in the King’s Tongue. “It means pride?”

He smiles faintly, one finger slipping between the pages of his book as he closes them around it. “I see your studies are going well,” he notes. Solas sinks into the pillows that adorn the Inquisitor’s headboard, and wonders distantly how she manages to sleep amidst them all. “Solas does mean ‘pride’ yes, though you may be thinking of another connotation. I have seen it translated as ‘to stand tall,’ which may better reflect its meaning.” At least, it did in Elvhenan. What he does not admit is that he is unsure of how it has evolved, or how Dalish ears might take it.

“Why did your parents name you that?” she asks, then quickly adds, “If I can ask that.”

“She didn’t.”

“Oh, uh– sorry.”

“Your apology is unnecessary. It was a fine name, it simply was not mine.”

Silence follows, long enough that Solas returns to his book. The words do not register as they should, however, even as his eyes roll over them and his lips move to take their sound. Some drama unfolds upon the page before him, but his mind returns to old, worn out names from before. Names Thora will likely never know.

“My name–” she pipes up after a moment, after he has already turned the page back to reread what he had missed. “Thora. It means ‘thunder.’”

“Hm.” The way she says it, he can hear its meaning. It does not resonate as Elvhen would, but it echoes all the same. “A fitting name.”

“You think?”

“What does thunder do if not herald the coming storm?”

A smile pinches the corner of his eyes when he hears her laugh. “Not quite what I think my mom was going for,” she says, playing with the corner of the page, folding the paper where time has made it soft. “She always told me it was storming the night I was born, thundering so loud the neighbours couldn’t hear her screams. I don’t know if it’s true, but I, uh, don’t suppose it matters.”

“It will make a pleasant song, one day.”

Thora snorts derisively, as though forgetting they already sing songs of her today. Perhaps even this very evening. “I… don’t think I have to ask you why you chose Solas of all names. You can tell me anyway, if you like.”

“Too many to name, my friend.” And some he cannot. “Whenever I hear my name it is a reminder of all there is for me to be proud of, and the risks of allowing that pride to go unchecked.” Pride she has seen the worst of, and the ignorance borne of it, yet still she invites him to read together. Always in silence, until he asks a question, or she does, and they may both reap the bounty from the what they read.

She props up her chin in her hand, elbow resting on the bedframe as she considers him carefully. He does not feel like Pride, now, wrapped in blankets with a piece of escapist fiction propped up in his lap, but he still feels like Solas. “I think you chose well,” she decides, and he smiles to hear her say it.

“Thank you.”

[gohyuck]

pairing: head knight!jeno x monarch!reader (reader has genitals attributed to those considered biologically female but no pronouns are actually used)

genre: fluff, mild angst (they discuss an oncoming battle they must prepare for), smut (it’s mostly smut)

word count: 6.5k

warnings & notes (nonsexual): mentions of war/battle, mentions of injuries retained from past skirmishes, jeno is as tall as you need him to be in order to rest your head against his chest without leaning down, it’s kind of cheesy tbh they are disgustingly head-over-heels in love with each other, also a peryton is a fantasy creature that’s essentially a stag + a bird, also i know y’all must be tired of royalty aus but i swear this is almost pwp (except there’s context so there’s plot) so give it a chance (if you’re legal) i guess

warnings & notes (sexual): oral (giving and receiving for both parties), fingering (reader receives), spit kink (lmao sorry), general messiness honestly, mild knife kink (no blood drawn, he just uses a dagger to tear apart clothing), gratuitous usage of the name ‘lionheart’, jeno has a big dick because i cannot stop myself from doing that to y’all for some reason, some choking

special thanks to @moonlit-jeno​ @domjaehyun​ @waithyuck​ for reading parts of it/all of it beforehand!

the soft hours of twilight have their holds on you, chilling you to your bones even as you pull the heavy fur cape tighter around your body. you should’ve pulled something over your thin nightgown, you suppose, something to act as a middle layer between silk and skin and peryton fur, but it’s too late for that. you’re already out on your private balcony, overlooking a kingdom you’d do anything to see the sun rise on day after day. 

far, far past the outskirts of your humble realm, barely visible to your own eye, an unsettlingly large camp of soldiers is finishing setting up camp for the night. you watch as tiny, tiny orange pinpricks - no doubt the fires they’d set to make food, to alert you of their presence - begin to get snuffed out. finally, they sleep.

if you were any worse of a person, of a ruler, you would send your army after them now, hours before the battle is set. perhaps, if you were any less selfish, you would do so regardless of keeping your status as a good and just monarch. if you were any less selfish, you would shake awake the love of your life and hand him his cape after shedding it from your shoulders. you would tell him to rouse his men and women, to arm them to their teeth, and to fight for what is right using means that are entirely wrong. 

as if privy to your thoughts, your head knight stirs in the too-large bed behind you. you turn just in time to see him sit up and twist his body left, right, left as he stretches to rid himself of sleep. it’s too late - or maybe too early - for either of you to be awake. maybe you should have stayed within his warm embrace rather than gotten out of bed to size up the army of the kingdom of crithage. 

even now, you can’t help but strategize, at least on a basic level. crithagians are unused to the cold of your beautiful - but often frigid - ekoria. they won’t expect your people to fall upon them from the icy cliffs that surround their camp, nor will they be able to see over the oncoming blizzard your royal sky-reader has predicted. she has not been incorrect in many, many years. ekorians have, over the years, grown accustomed to heavy snows, among other weather phenomenon, so your army’s visual acuity is not to be questioned. 

that, and your troops are in the hands of the best warrior ekoria has ever had.

jeno. your jeno. your lionheart. you rein your thoughts in just as he pulls open the balcony door, closing it behind him with a soft click as he steps over the threshold separating in from out and warm from cold. goosebumps rise across his bare flesh the moment his skin meets air, and you don’t hesitate to slide his cape off and thrust it towards him, knowing full well that his arms will provide more than enough heat for you. he fastens it with ease, seeming slightly amused at how you’d been using it as a blanket, and gently grabs ahold of your wrist before pulling you into his chest and wrapping an arm around your waist. with his other hand, he takes a corner of his cape and wraps it around you, leaving you enveloped in both his hot-to-touch skin and the comforting fur. 

“they’re out in the valley, aren’t they?” he finally murmurs, leaning to place his mouth against your ear. jeno’s voice is thick and sleep-ridden, still raspy in a way that settles around you, inside you, within you. you lean back slightly, raising a cold hand to rest against the tattoo of a lion that adorns his left pectoral, mane stretching up to his collarbone and encroaching on his bicep. the lion has a scar on its right cheek. you pull away more, eyes landing on the thin discolored line underneath your lover’s same eye. 

it had been a longsword, meant to slash across your throat. jeno, with the speed of a star falling from grace and enough adrenaline to fuel a hundred men, had leapt across you in order to take it across the face. for crown and for country, bard’s songs later regaled of him. for you, he’d whispered to you that same night as you’d stitched him up, using the threading tactics you’d learned from the castle medic as a child. for you. always for you.

“my love?” jeno prods, and you realize you haven’t given his rhetorical question any acknowledgement. you hum, meeting his eyes with your own, and watch as he allows one corner of his mouth to turn up. 

“they only just put out their fires.” you finally respond, moving to be against his chest again. you rest your head against the intricate ink against jeno’s skin, finally letting out a breath of what one might consider worry. the air that leaves your lungs manifests into wisps out in the cold world that surrounds you. your lionheart pulls you ever closer. 

“you need not stress.” he says simply, and an outsider to your relationship would see no cohesion between your statement and his. still, you know precisely what jeno means, why he’s said what he’s said. you turn, pressing your lips against the lion’s forehead. above you, your own lion brushes his lips against your temple. 

“i have an army, a kingdom, even, to worry about, and yet i only fear tomorrow for whatever outcome befalls one man.” you whisper, and even you are surprised to find tears catching in your throat. you do not cry easily, not when you know firsthand how cruel the world can be. 

you only reign because your parents no longer breathe. 

tomorrow’s battle could easily bleed into next year’s war, and while your kingdom is prepared for such a thing, your heart may not be. your people are not belligerent, and neither are you. crithage had been the one to throw the first stone, had sent word that if you refused to relinquish your throne and bow your head, they would aim the first arrow, draw the first blood. no tears had been shed then, not even when you’d paced around your bedchambers, reading and rereading the note signed with blood red ink until jeno had physically pulled it out of your tight grasp. you hadn’t cried, not even when he’d said that he was willing to die if it meant keeping crithage out of ekoria, out of the kingdom you’d both built from ground up after the war that had taken your parents, out of the home you’d created together. 

“wherever you take us, i will follow. wherever you need me, i will lead.” he’d murmured the words against the lobe of your ear, standing beside and slightly behind your throne as you’d written out your reply to crithage in a room full of your advisors. nobody else had moved a muscle then, not even as you closed the envelope with hot wax and the royal seal. 

you’d sent back a much, much shorter letter than their own in response. 

a time and date for battle. nothing more and nothing less.

that had been so many months ago, so far away that the concept of time dissipates when you attempt to organize it in your harried mind. with a hostile army on your doorstep, everything suddenly feels far more real than it has before. your people have been evacuated, your troops have been trained. your lionheart is unafraid to the world, standing tall and proud at your side as he always has.

a sigh that starts from deep in jeno’s chest brings you back to the present. tomorrow is it, you’re reminded. crithage has seiged almost every other state between themselves and your beloved ekoria. if they get to you, they’ll have your head, raised high on a stake they’ll erect outside of the gates they’ll install to the place you call home. if they get to you, it means they’ll have gotten through jeno.

you can’t live in a world without him. it’s a dangerous attachment for a ruler to have, you’re well aware. if other kingdoms find out that your weakness is a person, one that lives and breathes, you’re not likely to ever see your love again.

it’s little comfort that jeno can’t live in a world without you, either. 

“i worry about not being here, at the castle, to protect you,” he mumbles into your hair. “i know that you are perfectly capable, and that you’ll have your own faction of our knights with you, but i- it feels as if i’m about to open my chest and leave my naked heart unguarded, right there for any arrows to pierce.”

jeno’s confession is simple, beautiful in the way the most ornate of daggers are: that is, you feel as if he’s just dragged a sharp edge down the length of your sternum, taking you apart piece by piece. his words cage you in, force you deeper into your own head in a way you can’t afford, not right now. 

“eloquent,” you hum, unable to resist teasing him even as the moment does not call for it. it’s to save yourself from your heavily beating heart. “it isn’t too late to make you my poet laureate, you know. no need to wield a sword tomorrow then.”

“and who would be your head knight then, hm? the current laureate? you want renjun to lead the charge against the crithagians? to be your lionheart?” your lover draws back to ensure that you can see his eyes, glimmering with mirth. renjun is an able man, and one of your best friends, but he is not the warrior jeno is. 

nobody is the warrior that jeno is. 

“such a foolish thing to say,” you smile up at him, lips folding from joking to earnest within moments. the merriment fades a little from jeno’s eyes at recognizing the change in your expressions. “you’re my only lionheart. always have been and always will be, even when you’re too old and gray and slow to be my head knight.” 

“someone seems confident of that happening.” he says quietly, raising the hand at your waist to come up and rest over your own hand that lies against his chest. you swallow, your own spit feeling too heavy for you to stomach, your throat dry and scratchy. 

“who else can have confidence of a victory rather than a monarch?” you ask, a smile that isn’t quite sad - but isn’t quite self-assured either - resting on your lips. jeno raises your hand to his lips, pressing one, two, three chaste kisses to the back and then repeating the pattern against your palm. he does not let go.

the two of you stand there for a stolen moment. you lay your head back against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heartbeat below the ink and skin and muscle and bone. he is real, and he is here. 

he is real. he is here. 

“the monarch’s lionheart, of course,” he murmurs, finally dropping your hand to reach back and push open the balcony door. “we only have four more strokes of time until i must go, my love. is this truly how you want to spend it?”

it’s evident that jeno no longer wants to mull over the what-ifs, not when he prefers living in the present more than anyone you’ve ever known. unsurprising, you suppose, for someone whose livelihood involves strategizing away his own mortality. you allow him to pull you back into your bedroom, immediately more comfortable when the door closes behind you, keeping you in with the body heat of your lover and the warmth of the crackling fire on the hearth in the corner of your room. jeno sheds the cape, draping it over the nearest chair, before bringing you back to his chest by placing his large hands against your waist.

it takes feeling his fingers against your skin through the thin silk of your slip to remember that jeno has nothing on. he’s always preferred to sleep naked, unlike you. though you hardly have any undergarments on, you at least wear a sheer gown most nights. 

you’d ridden him passionately before bed, tiring both of you out in order to get any semblance of sleep. as your lionheart pulls you flush against him, though, it’s difficult to avoid the way his cock hardens against your hip once more. you want to quip about how jeno’s insatiable, but he trails a hand up, up over your body to swipe a thumb over one of your hardened nipples, and you can’t help the sigh that escapes through your prettily parted lips. 

“will you get on the bed for me, love?” jeno’s voice is smoother now that he’s more awake, though you can’t help but miss the low growl that had come with the earlier rasp. he may be asking you a question, but you know that it’s an order in disguise. wordlessly, you step back, back, back until the wood of your bedframe presses against the soft plushness of the back of your thighs. jeno has not moved, choosing to stay put and appraise you instead. his eyes are hooded now, and as his gaze trails from your neck - he’d marked it up earlier, the kiss-bitten bruises not yet having faded from your skin - down to the curve of your chest, over the expanse of your thighs, he can’t help but reach one hand down to his dick, swiping two fingers over its head to collect his precum on his skin. 

jeno says nothing else, makes no other move. it’s to give you an illusion of control, you suppose. not that you need one. 

“should i rid myself of this, lionheart?” you ask, the words coming out breathier than intended. the nightgown leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and you’re sure he can even see the slick wetness that’s pooling against your inner thighs. jeno adores seeing your body more than anything, but the gown does not inhibit that. 

it’s no surprise, then, when he shakes his head no, instead finally moving to stand at the edge of the bed, slotting himself between your thighs as they naturally move apart to fit him in. his clean hand slides up under your gown, resting just above your cunt, as he raises his other hand to your face. 

“lie back, and open.” jeno states, no air of leniency about him anymore. you oblige, and your love leans over you, his dark gaze centered on your parted lips. 

he lays his two precum-coated fingertips against your tongue, pressing in and then down and revelling when you don’t gag but instead run your tongue over his fingers, cleaning them off for him. you haven’t gagged in a long time, your reflexes getting used to him in the way the rest of you is. when he withdraws his hand, your mouth stays open, and jeno can’t help himself as he leans over you and, after gathering it in his own mouth for a moment, allows his own spit to fall from his own tongue and onto yours. 

your eyes go wide at the action, and you know that he notices it even as he does not acknowledge it. even so, you don’t miss the smirk that crosses his face upon hearing your breath hitch. jeno has you in his palm.

satisfied, he stands, and you close your mouth and swallow a part of him with a part of you. jeno’s no longer looking at your face, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he’s ruching up your nightgown with growing hunger, not when he’s kneeling on the stone ground just to make himself eye-level with your pretty, pretty pussy. 

“i took you hardly any time ago,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin as his mouth nears where you so desperately need him. “and yet here you are, laid open once more, all for me. only for me.”

“always you, jeno, please - ” you can’t get any more words out, the air being pulled out of you as he dives in and circles your clit with his tongue, bringing his two spit-soaked fingers up to press into you with almost no resistance. your reaction is instantaneous, walls clenching like a vice around his fingers as he lays a filthy kiss against your bundle of nerves, hips jumping up only to be kept down by jeno’s other hand, pressing down against the bottom of your stomach. 

“patience.” he pulls off of your clit just to growl the word out against the skin of your inner thigh, and the wet heat of his mouth directly against your flesh has you practically gasping out. when jeno sinks his teeth into your thigh as he’s often wont to do, you let out a full-bodied whine, the kind that starts in the back of your throat and rises up through the inner column of your neck, meant only for your lover’s ears. jeno laves his tongue over the marks he’s just created, as if to wash the pleasurable pain from your body. 

he does not reattach his mouth to your core, choosing instead to fall back and watch, eyes trained, as he scissors you open. with hardly any warning rather than his gaze jumping up to meet your own momentarily, jeno presses his thumb into your clit, using your slick wetness to eliminate any raw friction as he rubs slow circles against your nerve endings. he’s never failed to bring you to the edge with ease, and now is no different. you’d be embarrassed at how easily you fall apart just from his simple simultaneous motions, in and on you, but it’s jeno, and he knows your body maybe even better than he knows his own. 

keening, a loud, gasping wail, falls from your lips only for jeno to rise from his place in between your thighs and swallow your sounds with his open mouth, his clean hand coming up to cage you in against your sheets. the way you raise your arms to loop them around his neck is akin to the way a drowning man would grab on to a lifeline, and once he rises you pull him back into a longer, filthier kiss, where your teeth click against his and his tongue opens up your mouth the same way it feels like his touch opens up your body. 

you feel as if you’re being flayed, as if hellfire is the only thing comparable to the heat against your skin. jeno steps closer, just by the tiniest bit, and you feel his hand - the one shining with your arousal - brush past your hip before he uses it to wet his cock with one, two, three firm strokes. copious amounts of precum arise from the tip before being pulled down against his flesh with expert downstrokes. your mouth waters as you watch.

“my mouth, lionheart, please?” you finally gain the courage to ask what is on your mind, sitting up on your elbows as you begin to slowly find your strength. your love raises an eyebrow, and not without reason: jeno is a big man, making even you - a literal monarch - feel small at times, and this does not end with his personality or his person: you have never been able to take all of him into your mouth. the ache borders on painful, frankly, and jeno himself refuses to harm you in that way. 

“this, now, is about you.” he responds, and your heart cracks as you register that as a ‘no’. still, you speak again. you need him in your mouth, suddenly. it isn’t just a want. something has to anchor you to the here and now, it may as well be the head of his cock, heavy against your tongue.

“what is about me is about you as well,” you respond, and before he can lay his refusal down out flat, you slide onto the floor - warmer than expected - and tuck your heels behind your bare ass. “i need this. please.”

you’re directly in front of him now, face parallel to his strong thighs. jeno strokes up, squeezes tighter just below his frenulum, and you watch, struck, as precum beads at the tip and then splits into two streams, half sliding down his hard dick and the other slowly-but-surely falling to the ground, hardly a quarter of a step from one of your knees.

“give me your hand, then,” your knight murmurs from above you, drawing your gaze from his leaking cock up past the dainty curve of his lip to his hard eyes. “now.”

when you raise your hand up, you only put it up limply, unsure of what he means to do with the limb he’s asked for. your eyes must be swimming with questions, because jeno gives you a hint of a sweet, reassuring smile before allowing his expression to become stoic again… right before he grasps your given hand and straightens it out, gentler than expected from such a great warrior but harsher than he truly ever treats you. 

he’s passionate. this demonstrates it. 

before you can react, your body following your hand up off of your heels, though only slightly, as he yanks up your hand, jeno leans down and licks up your hand, from the bottom of your palm to the top, all while maintaining eye contact with you. he lets go, though you keep your hand raised, your gaze obviously dumbfounded. 

“a dry hand would rub me raw,” he explains, though the smirk that’s tugging at one corner of his mouth shows that he finds your wide-eyed expression at least mildly amusing. “we do not want that, do we?”

it’s amazing how easily he can get you under his thumb when you give out orders that hold his life in the balance on a day-to-day basis. maybe that’s why he finds taking charge in private so easy. maybe it’s his way of evening your dynamic out. even now, as he asks you an innocent question with no hidden meaning or reaction, you find yourself shaking your head along enthusiastically. no, of course you don’t want to rub him raw. of course you and him don’t want that. 

you raise the hand now deemed ‘not dry’ up as jeno watches, finally, finally wrapping your hand around it. your thumb and middle finger do not meet, no matter how tight you squeeze. your lover lets out a fulfilled groan at finally feeling a touch other than his own on his hard cock, and it’s a beautiful sound. you want more of it. you want more of him. 

as if mesmerized, you lean closer, darting out your tongue to lick experimentally at his slit. he holds his breath, a large hand coming to rest lightly against the back of your head and base of your skull, waiting. you take this as a sign to stretch your lips wider, engulfing the entire tip of his cock in your hot mouth. his grip tightens in your hair, and, in return, you clench around nothing. 

as you struggle to take more of jeno in your mouth, you do your best to stroke the rest of his cock with a tight enough grip to make him feel everything, but not tight to the point where you’re hurting him. regardless of how little you can take on your tongue - not your fault, by any means - jeno seems happy, barely able to stop himself from bucking up into the back of your throat. at this point, you’re essentially just warming his cock, so you pull off with a slick pop to look at him with slightly watery eyes. a string of precum and saliva connects your bottom lip and his tip, and when it breaks, you’re acutely aware of the mixture dripping down your chin and onto your nightgown. it’s no matter.

jeno’s thumb runs over your scalp, just above the bottom of your skull. you close your eyes momentarily to take in a deep breath. 

“you can force yourself down my throat, you know,” your voice is raspy when you speak, eyes fluttering open almost drearily. “i’m not too delicate for it.”

there’s something simultaneously raw and pure about the way you speak, and jeno recognizes that your headspace has changed, just a little. your need truly is all-encompassing now. he must tread more delicately than usual.

there’s so much love, so much adoration in your wide-eyed gaze. he only wishes to return it with the same intensity and double the care. 

“i know, love,” jeno responds, finally moving his hand in order to place two fingers under your chin. he tilts your face up, taking note of the way your eyes run over his tattoo before looking at his chin, then his jaw, then his nose, then his forehead, until, finally, you land on his eyes. you’re a tad bit unfocused, full of need, but that’s okay. you’ll always come back to him. he continues speaking. “you’re so strong. always so strong for me. that’s why you deserve to be rewarded, yes?”

“rewarded?” you’re confused, to say the least, though you do not dislike the direction jeno is suddenly moving towards. he only smiles, gentle and kind and good and yours. all yours. 

“on the bed, (name).” he tilts his own head, jutting his chin towards the bed you’d slid off of earlier. you don’t hesitate to follow, pushing yourself up onto your feet and all but scrambling backwards to be seated against the soft mattress. the blankets are all haphazard and the pillows aren’t straight, but that’s the least of your worries right now. jeno gives no other orders, only stepping closer and, without warning, winding his arms underneath your thighs and propelling you backwards, causing you to land, back flat, in the center of your bed. 

it had always felt inescapably large when you’d slept in it alone. now, it feels welcoming. safe. 

“you’re ready for me, yes?” the tone of voice jeno uses is soft, even as his rough palms push apart your thighs. you nod, murmuring a small ‘yes’ once you realize he’s waiting for you to verbalize your thoughts. this is all jeno needs to climb onto the bed and move in between your spread legs, settling back on his calves as his hands smooth over your hip bones and waist. it’s evident that he’s bent on taking his time with you tonight, likely under the illusion that that is what you want. 

it is not what you want. it is most definitely not what you need. 

“i need you within me, lionheart,” one of your hands clutches at the sheets beneath you while you stretch the other towards your lover, imploring. “soon. now. please.”  

“absolutely impatient,” jeno only chuckles in return, drawing an indignant whine forth from the base of your throat. he looks over your barely covered body once more before finally - almost in slowed motions as if to tease you further - rising up onto his knees. his hands stop moving against your skin, finally circling around the soft meat of your upper thighs. swiftly and fluidly, jeno pulls your body towards his, wrapping your legs around his own waist. his wet cock lies heavy against your pelvis, leaving slick precum against the apex of your thighs and the bottom of your stomach. he smirks. “is this what you wanted?” 

the motion of being pulled into your knight had forced the air from your lungs in a surprised yelp, and the feeling of his warm skin - he’s always supplied so much heat, it baffles you to no end - against your own momentarily blanks your mind. jeno repeats his question twice, cocky grin growing with each utterance, before you nod vigorously and sputter out something vaguely affirmative. yes. yes, this is exactly what you wanted, exactly what you want. 

you’ve been growing steadily wetter the longer your foreplay had drawn out, but jeno, ever-caring, still pulls back - his cock sliding against your thigh has you moaning - to slip two thick fingers into you, adding a third when he’s absolutely sure that you can take it. in no time at all, you’re grinding your clit against his rough palm, the friction absolutely heavenly. jeno makes no move to stop you, only gently forcing his fingers in deeper. 

a fourth finger is added just as your abused clit can’t take anymore, and you spasm on his hand as you fall past the point of no return. your second orgasm of the night washes over you, and you can’t help the muted but harried gasps you let out as your hips buck up, driving your head back into the mattress. jeno draws his fingers out slowly, licking your essence off of them with practiced ease. once your body has calmed down, you can only let out a small whimper, still basking in the intensity you’ve just experienced. 

jeno knows your limit, and knows damn well that you haven’t reached it yet. it’s because of this that, even as your walls are still clenching around nothing due to aftershocks that wrack your body, he places the fat head of his cock against your hole and slowly but surely slides in. the hands on your thighs move up to wrap around the sides of your waist, and his grip is bruising as he pushes deeper and deeper. even as he goes at a snail’s pace, you feel as if you’re being pulled apart only to be pieced back together again. you hold your breath.

jeno is halfway in when he realizes you still aren’t quite wet enough. he shifts slightly, carefully moving one of your legs up just a little bit higher, before swiping over your raw clit with a thumb he’s wetted with his own tongue. a moan flies forth from your mouth immediately, and a gush of wetness coats jeno’s cock anew as he circles over your bud with abandon. he’s finally free to surge forward and bury himself within your warm walls without fear of repercussions on your own body… so he does. the breath you’d been holding in is punched out of you, replaced with an honest-to-god wail. tears bud at the corners of your eyes at the stretch, falling as he pulls out almost entirely and slams into you again. 

jeno does everything in his life in order to live up to the name you’ve given him: lionheart. he is just and loyal and thoughtful as an advisor, and analytical and fearsome and ruthless as a warrior. sex is where both sides of him meet. it is where he is not just the kingdom’s bravest knight, or the crown’s right-hand man. it is where he is your lionheart, and yours alone, where your souls intertwine at the place your bodies meet. 

he notices how your hands come up to reach for him, leaning down so you can place one hand against his heart - against his tattoo - and throw the other one over his other shoulder. jeno’s nose is almost touching yours, though your bodies shift continuously as he keeps drawing back and driving his hips into yours with force.

he never ceases to make you feel full. 

your walls grip his cock tightly, amplifying every movement jeno indulges you in. the slide is slick and wet and perfect, but it is not easy. the head of his dick catches on your clenched walls every time he pulls out just to slam back in, forcing you to feel him with everything you have. it’s exactly what you want. 

he slows down his thrusting for a moment as he moves forward slightly, leaning closer still as he places one forearm against your head and raises his other hand to fondle your chest over your sheer clothing. somehow, this is no longer enough for you. jeno’s cock is fully sheathed within you as he swipes a thumb over one of your nipples, and the feeling of his skin pushing the cloth against one of your most sensitive areas has you shuddering in a way that causes you to squeeze even tighter around him. his hips stutter slightly, driving him impossibly deeper into you.

“jeno,” you rasp out, tongue heavy and dry. “my pillow. beneath my pillow.”

his eyes go wide as he processes what you’ve just said, his shallow thrusts slowing down. jeno gulps audibly. 

“your- love, your dagger?”

“need you to touch me.” you respond, holding his gaze and watching it clear up from confused to comprehending you entirely. he pushes himself up from his forearm to his hand, sliding out of you in the same movement. you whine sadly at the loss of contact, but jeno mutters a good-natured ‘be quiet’ almost immediately. 

“you know,” he starts, voice teasing, even as he pulls your dagger - black steel, quillions and hilt encrusted with blue jewels, black tempered glass at the pommel - out from beneath your pillow using the hand that had been fondling you earlier. he moves back down to his prior position, and your breath hitches as he presses the apex of the knife against the collar of your nightgown. “i’m already touching you.”

“more,” you moan out, the end of your word coming out almost breathlessly. one of your hands slides against his tattoo once more, as if feeling the lion will make it roar to life. “touch me more.” 

jeno chuckles, albeit darker than he had been earlier, and digs the dagger into the cloth in front of it without any further ado. you hold your breath willfully this time, not wanting to actually nick yourself on the blade, as he moves down your body, cutting the sheer gown open down its direct center. your lionheart dots his lips against your flesh in a trail in his wake, scraping his teeth against your skin as he sees fit. 

he leaves a quick, but filthy, kiss against your clit for good measure, eyes lighting up as you attempt to close your legs around his head on impulse, only to have them pushed apart even farther than before by his strong hands. once he gets to the hem of the slip, he throws your dagger somewhere on the stone floor - neither of you pay any heed to where it clatters - and rips it apart with his bare hands, hardly able to bear not feeling you around him for much longer. 

before you can do anything or say anything or even think anything at all, your lover surges forward and presses himself back into you with a grunt that sounds almost like a growl. his hands knead at your thighs as he finds his rhythm with ease, pounding into you with practice as if you’re an art medium and he’s a skilled master. he’s everywhere, all around you and inside of you and in the air and in your skin, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“touching - ha - touching you enough now?” he asks, resolve crumbling bit by bit as he fights to keep himself from tumbling over the cliff’s edge before you do. you can’t dignify him with a response, unable to do anything but claw at his back and pin yourself further against his chest as if it’ll make even more room for you in his heart than there already is. he doesn’t need a response, anyways. jeno already knows. 

he knows just how close you are, too. just as close as he is. it’s because of this that jeno moves a hand up to curl around your throat just as he circles your clit with two fingers of the other hand, continuing to fuck into you at the same rate as best he can. with a sharp cry and the arching of your back off the bed, you clench around him for one final time before he comes to a halt, barely holding himself up over you as he releases within you with a shuddering, gasping groan. 

moments pass, stretching into longer than they typically are. jeno takes care as he slides out of you, climbing onto the bed and flopping down next to you right after. the feeling of his release, sticky and wet against your inner thighs, is unpleasant at best, but you can’t bring yourself to clean up just yet. instead, you turn your head to your side, your nose immediately brushing against jeno’s sternum as you realize that he’s turned his entire body towards your own. he lets out an airy laugh at the sensation, pushing half of the sliced cloth off of your body in order to run a wide open palm down your naked side. 

“good?” he speaks first, asking an arbitrary question. ‘good enough to make you forget?’ is what he means, knowing full well that you could never lose thought of what awaits the two of you. the sentiment is what’s important, though, and you let out an agreeable hum as a reply. the sex itself was great, of course. he’s well aware. 

“sleep, lionheart,” you say just as silence attempts to cloak the two of you. “we must be ready soon, as it is.”

jeno gives you no response, and you do not require one from him. instead, he pulls you even closer into his chest as if doing so will protect you from the crithagians across your kingdom. his entire world rests between his arms. you are both tired enough that sleep forces your eyelids closed swifter than expected, and as you fall asleep to your lover’s slowed breathing and muted heartbeat, you can’t help but, just this once, allow your worries to slip off your body as your torn nightgown does. 

just before the rise of the sun, jeno will have to get out of bed and clean you up as best he can before donning his clothing, his armor, and his cape. you’ll put his helmet upon his head, pull his visor down over his face after sharing a kiss that could be your last. it is always like this. jeno will rouse the army, you will dress and arm yourself, and meet with your own private troops. 

as the sun begins to take its place in the morning sky, luckily opposite your gaze, jeno will lead his people into battle, riding his steed far, far from you. you will watch him go, but he will not look back. doing so is unfortunate luck at best. you’ve ingrained this into his mind. 

you do not know whether he will be back or not.

you desperately need him to come back.

all of that will happen in due time, but now, you drift to dreamland, safe in the arms of the man you’ve sworn to be with until the end. he tightens his hold around you, and that is how you spend the night before battle, in total comfort and full of love. no matter what tomorrow brings, at least you have this now. at least you will always have this moment. 

the lionheart and his liege. your lionheart and his love. 

for now, you are at peace in the calm before the storm.

[fanmoose12]

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 7/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

The city he had chosen to stay in was terrible.

It was noisy, it was crowdy, and the constant heat was making Levi go insane.

And while the city’s loudness and the amount of people in it made it easier for him to blend in, get lost in plain sight and all that bullshit, the heat— the fucking heat, gods, it was killing him.

Levi didn’t like cold weather, despised all the layer of clothes he had to put on just to get to the nearest supermarket and buy instant noodles, he hated the snow with passion he carried since his childhood, he thought that winter was the worst season of them all.

Oh, how wrong he was.

The heat was making his skin crawl. Even in just tank top and shorts, he felt too hot. Drinking cold water, taking cold showers, none of it helped. Levi turned the air conditioning in his room on maximum, but the motel he was staying at was shitty, his room was shitty, and, as a result, the air conditioning was shitty too.

Levi was sick of it. His skin was constantly clammy and sticky, he couldn’t sleep at night, there was never enough air around him, and walking around the city during the daytime made him seriously consider whether he was actually a vampire.

The sun… could it really burn so much? It didn’t used to be so unbearable before.

But apart from that… Levi was starting to accommodate to his new life.

Leaving his hometown behind, he decided to let go of his previous habits too. He got himself a job - not a respectable, but at least an honest one.

Being a janitor in a shitty bar after spending most of his life as a thief was almost… therapeutic.

The vomit on the walls and piss on the floors were enraging him to the point of seeing red and sometimes he wanted to break a leg of every asshole who didn’t know when they had enough and went to make a mess in the toilet, but… working there was therapeutic nevertheless. And a definite improvement too.

At least, his life wasn’t in danger anymore and he didn’t have to run away from police.

Although, he wouldn’t mind running away from a certain police officer. Perhaps, this time he would let her catch him. Perhaps, then his heart would stop clenching in pain every time he thought about Hange.

Perhaps, then he’d be able to let go.

He tried letting go, forgetting about Hange, just as he tried to put behind his life of crime. Unfortunately, putting Hange behind proved to be that much harder.

Some nights, when the heat was especially bad, he felt especially lonely and the shitty whiskey at the shitty bar he was working at didn’t do the trick, he’d snuck a look at how Hange was doing. He’d open his phone, scroll through a news feed. If he’d get lucky, there would a recording of some press conference with Hange at the center of it all.

Apparently, she was doing well. Her shoulder was almost healed, although sometimes she still winced, when gesticulating too frantically. But the paleness in her face that was present when he had visited her at the hospital was long gone, and at the few press conferences that allowed Levi to catch a glimpse of her, Hange’s cheeks were adorned by healthy, rosy blush. Her hair was just as wild, just as messy, and her voice carried the same inspiring conviction.

Whether Hange found out the truth about him or not, he didn’t know, but she had moved past Ackermans’ case and during the time Levi was getting used to his new life she alredy solved two robberies.

She was working on a new case now, something about a young girl who had mysteriously vanished. Levi didn’t bother to find out the details, the name Krista Lenz meant nothing to him, but nevertheless, he wished that Hange would succeed. She deserved that, her quick wit and determination were meant to be recognized and celebrated.

That bright, happy smile on her face, the one she was sporting during the conference that discussed one of the solved robberies, it suited Hange so much. Levi wished she’d wear it more often.

He wished he’d see it more often, but well… some things just weren’t meant to be.

Strangely so, Kenny didn’t contact him even once. No obnoxious phone call, no mysterious messages or weird gifts. There was no sign of him for almost two months, and Levi would have started worrying, would have tried to contact the man himself, if… if Kenny wasn’t Kenny.

His uncle was like a cockroach, Levi was one hundred percent sure that nothing and no one could cause him any harm. And if there was someone who actually could do this, Kenny would have harmed them back, ten times worse.

Still, the thoughts about Kenny lingered at the back of his mind, and memories about Hange did the same irritating thing. It made Levi feel awfully nostalgic sometimes, borderline melancholic. And fairly quickly he found out there was nothing he could do about it. No amount of whiskey or dirty toilets could chase that sadness away. That sadness was a new part of his new life.

Maybe, it was better than always living on the edge.

Luckily, he didn’t feel so lonely all the time, his colleagues at the bar made sure of that.

And while his boss, a bald, gross man called Shadis definitely wasn’t a joy to have around, two others – a barmaid named Sasha and waiter Connie were so much better.

They were annoying in their own right, of course. Sasha had a weird obsession with food, Connie’s sense of humor left much to be desired, and together both of them were so damn loud, but for brats who barely stepped into adulthood, they provided a fairly enjoyable company.

They let Levi take his mind off certain things, and they kept him from falling into the abyss of loneliness and depression.

They also opened up the side of him that Levi wasn’t even aware of.

Connie had once mentioned in a passing that his mother had died years ago, and whatever happened to Sasha’s family, she wasn’t living with them anymore, sharing a small flat with Connie and another guy, Jean.

In Levi’s humble, unbiased opinion, Jean was a self-centered, pompous jerk. He wasn’t working in the bar with his two friends, and instead had involved himself in some shady shit with a local gang, which apparently terrified the whole neighborhood. Levi wanted to tell the boy that he was a fucking idiot, if he thought that messing with criminals was a good idea, but he doubted that Jean would listen. Luckily, Jean wasn’t around too often and visited the bar only, when he was miserable about some girl he had a crush on, or whenever he wished to get drunk for free.

It was a good thing that Levi barely interacted with Jean. The boy was so annoying. And also – too damn tall.

He didn’t hear about any other friends of theirs, and as far as Levi was aware, there was no actual adult watching over Sasha and Connie, so… he kinda, unwillingly, of course, took that task upon himself.

Obviously, he made sure to remain discreet. He didn’t want the brats to know that he cared, because he didn’t, naturally.

He claimed that he simply cooked too much food and the leftovers would go to waste, if he didn’t give them away, when he brought them pasta or soup. He mentioned his insomnia and pretended that long walks helped him sleep better, when Sasha and Connie went home after midnight. He lied about having experience in bartending when Sasha got stomach flu. He said that he was just accidentally passing by their apartment, when later that day he visited to check on her.

The brats were too dense to notice his subtle attempts anyway, or so Levi hoped. They had never brought it up, and that had to mean something, right?

And that time when Connie tried to fix Levi’s air conditioning, or when Sasha brought a whole jar of his favorite tea, or all those evenings when he felt blue and homesick and they helped him clean the bar and took him out to dinner, surely it was nothing more than a coincidence.

The brats had their moments, Levi had to admit, and sometimes their presence was almost pleasant.

But sometimes they made him wish they shut their mouths and never opened them again.

Right now, that desire was more prevalent than ever.

“Say, Mister Levi,” Levi hated when they called him that, it made him sound even older than he actually was. He told them to stop it, many times. But the brats didn’t care. He slowly raised his eyes to show that he was listening. As soon as he did, Sasha put a fist underneath her chin, forgetting about the important task of cleaning the glasses to stare at him curiously. “Do you have someone?”

“Someone?” he had an inkling of what Sasha was asking him about, but he didn’t wish to discuss that with the damned brats. He didn’t wish to discuss that topic with no one, ever. Because… there was nothing to discuss.

“Yep, someone!” Connie chimed in. “Like, hm, a significant other?”

“A beloved!” Sasha agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

Levi felt the migraine coming. “I don’t have any kind of someone,” he gritted. “And I never did.”

“Really?” Sasha tilted her head to the side, looking so skeptical that Levi was ready to get offended. Was he not convincing enough? “I thought you do. It’s just that sometimes—”

“When you think no one is looking!” Connie swiftly added.

“Your face seems so much softer, and your scowl almost disappears, and you look—”

“Just like Jean when he thinks about Mikasa.”

Who the fuck was Mikasa? And what face was Jean making? Levi couldn’t be making the same one, could he?

“But if you say there is no one,” Sasha sighed, returning to her task of cleaning glasses. Wearing the same sad face as she did, Connie went back to gathering dishes from the tables. “Then I guess we’re wrong.”

Damn right, they were. There was no one, and whatever face they thought he was making, it couldn’t possibly be related to a certain police officer from the other side of the world.

“And if there is no one you have to think about,” Sasha winked, like she was seeing right through him. “Then let me make you a drink. It’s a new recipe I found, it involves tequila, vodka and—”

Levi raised a hand to cut her off. “Just surprise me.”

Sasha nodded and went to work. She frequently let Levi taste her new cocktails. He was the perfect man for it – he didn’t get drunk too fast, and he was the only Sasha’s friend who tasted something better than cheap whiskey or a beer from a local supermarket. He also never shied away from telling her when the drink was fucking awful.

Sasha hummed as she mixed the drink, some song Levi vaguely recognized from the radio. She was smiling too, she did that frequently, and something about her, be it the ponytail that jumped up and down when she was excited, or her easy-going, cheerful personality reminded him of Hange.

These days, lots of things reminded him about Hange. There were days when almost everything reminded him of Hange. It seemed like today was exactly a day like that.

“You’re making that same face again,” Sasha whispered, as she handed him the drink.

Levi scowled, glaring at the girl, as he put the glass up to his lips. He finished it in one go. “It tastes like shit,” he told her. “Put it on the menu.”

Sasha beamed, refilling his glass. “Knew you’d like it.”

“By the way, boss,” Levi wasn’t their boss, as far as he was aware, their actual boss was getting drunk in his office, all the while mumbling incomprehensible gibberish about some Carla. But Levi had to admit, being called boss was so much better than the godforsaken mister Levi. "Are you free tonight?"

Levi was free every day and every night, when he wasn’t working in the bar with Connie and Sasha. It wasn’t like he had any friends or even acquaintances beside two brats. However, saying it out loud would make him look even more pathetic that he actually was. So Levi shrugged, and said, as nonchalantly as possible, “Depends.”

“Would you like to come over for dinner?” Connie asked, looking at him with a smile so hopeful that Levi was ready to say yes right that instant. God, they already had him wrapped around their fingers. How embarrassing. At least, Kenny wasn’t here to witness it. He’d have a laugh of his life, if he found that Levi was adopted by two teenagers. “Jean is away on a trip, so we’d be glad to have some company.”

“He went to see his family?”

From the way Sasha bit her lip and Connie refused to meet his eye, Levi knew – their friend didn’t go on a simple trip. He sighed, taking a sip from his glass and letting the bitter liquid burn his throat. Admittedly, it was none of his business. He shouldn’t care about it, he wasn’t their father, for god’s sake. But… a friendly piece of advice wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Your friend plays with fire. And if he continues doing so—”

“Jean knows what he is doing,” Connie crossed hands on his chest defensively. “He is smart.”

Levi couldn’t help but scoff. “Just being smart is not enough. There will always be someone smarter.”

“Jean knows what he is doing,” Connie repeated stubbornly. “He’ll be fine.”

Maybe, he will, maybe, he won’t. At the end of the day, Levi had no say about it. He might call them brats, but they were already adults. They were allowed to do as they wished. They were bound to make some mistakes.

“Tell him to be more careful. Otherwise, you’ll suffer too.”

Levi left it at that, not wanting to antagonize Sasha and Connie any further. Besides, it was time to open the bar, or the drunkards all across the block would start banging on their doors. Worse than that, Shadis might come out of his office too. His sour face was the last thing Levi wished to see.

“Let’s get to work,” he nodded to the kids, and took his drink to the dark corner of the room, where he usually spend his shifts, waiting until the patrons start making a mess he’d have to clean.

Surprisingly, the evening came and went, but there was no mess for him to deal with. No one vomited, no one shitted all over the toilets. No one spilled their beer on the floor, or even a table. Were their patrons starting to learn how act like people, and not pigs? Or were they so well-behaved because it was just the beginning of a week? Or did the heat finally get to them and turn them just as slow and tired as Levi himself felt?

However, the weather was more merciful that day. The temperature was still high, too high for Levi’s taste, but just after the sunset the wind was starting to pick up, the storm slowly brewing. During the smoke break outside the bar, Levi could see the lightening, illuminating the far edge of the sky. The rain was in the air, and he allowed his lips to curl up in a pleased smile. Perhaps, he’d finally be able to sleep through the whole night and not toss and turn, feeling like the bed turned into a scorching pan.

When he went back inside, the bar was almost empty, just a few regulars left, nursing their half-finished drinks.

“Do you want to have pizza or sushi?” Sasha asked, as he started sweeping the floor. “We can order both if you wish.”

Levi rolled his eyes with a disgusted tsk. “Eating so much takeout is unhealthy. Let’s finish here and go to supermarket. I’ll cook you something decent.”

Connie yelled a loud yahoo, while Sasha squeezed him in a suffocating hug. The heartwarming moment was cut short, when the door to the bar was thrown open with a loud bang.

It let inside the gush of wind and drops of freezing rain. With a broom still in his hands, Levi turned sharply to the door, ready to rip the unlucky drunkard a new one, the bar had closed almost an hour ago, the sign was right there for everyone to see.

All harsh words died on the way between his throat and his tongue. Levi froze on the spot, and in the silence that followed the lightning strike was as sudden as a gunshot.

Sasha’s distressed cry and Connie’s shocked sob put him out of the stupor.

Throwing the broom away, Levi moved, catching the falling, bloodied boy into his arms.

“Jean!” Sasha was the first one of the two to snap out of it. She ran to Levi, with trembling hands lifting up her friend’s face.

“What the fuck had happened?” Connie kneeled next to them, his eyes wide and scared as he stared at Jean.

Jean looked awful, there was no way around it. His cheeks and jaw were bruised, his right eye was already swollen, and his light brown hair had too much red in it.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out, too weak and injured to offer something more than a shaking whisper. “I’m sorry, I’ve fucked up, I didn’t know where to run and now they’re coming here, I didn’t mean to do this, I didn’t think, I—”

He could continue that nonessential ramble for the rest of the night. But if they, whoever those they were, were truly coming, Jean and his friends didn’t have that much time. Carefully, Levi lifted Jean’s arm, wincing when he saw that the boy’s shirt was bloodied too, and threw it over Connie’s shoulder. Then he took the key from the back pocket of his shorts and thrusted it into Sasha’s palm.

“Take him to my room in the motel.”

“And you?”

Levi pushed the hair away from his face, already hating himself for his next words. Kenny was right, he cared too much, and it was his biggest weakness, one that would probably get him killed one day. Perhaps, that day had already arrived.

“I’ll stay here and buy you some time.”

“No!” Jean protested, frantically grabbing Levi by the elbow. “It’s my fuck up, you shouldn’t get involved, you don’t know—”

“I do know. And unlike you, I can actually take care of myself.”

Perhaps, he was too harsh, but it was necessary. Jean had fucked up, and whatever he had done, he had to own that mistake and learn from it. That was the only way he would survive through another one of his mistakes.

“Hurry up,” he told Sasha and Connie. “I’ll meet you as soon as I’m finished.”

Thankfully, they didn’t try to argue. Connie wished him luck and Sasha made him promise to come back, and that was it.

As soon as they had left, Levi hopped behind the bar counter to pour himself a shot of whiskey. He lighted up a cigarette, waiting for the front door to swing open and Jean’s persecutors to arrive. Hopefully, they’d do it without guns blazing.

He was just finishing the first glass and was thinking of getting himself a second one, when the mighty kick almost as loud as the thunder outside pushed the door open. Three men tumbled inside a second later, their faces transformed by fury into caricature masks.

“Where is that son of a bitch?” roared one in the middle, their leader, Levi assumed.

Levi was in no hurry to answer. He took the last drag of the cigarette, meticulously put it down against the surface of an ashtray. Then looked at the men in front of him. “The bar is closed. There is no one here but me.”

“Stop fucking with us!” the asshole on the left shouted. “We saw him run inside!”

“If that fucker isn’t here, perhaps we should look around for his friends,” the third man offered. “I know they’re working here.”

So there was no way around it? Levi sighed, walking from beyond the counter. “Just so you know,” approaching the men, he cracked his knuckles. “I don’t condone violence.”

One of the thugs started laughing, the other two immediately followed. Levi didn’t expect any other reaction. The men were burly, large, they definitely weren’t smart.

“What are you going to do to us, midget? Do you seriously think you can beat us up?”

The insult was followed by a punch, a careless, blundering one. Levi effortlessly dodged it, delivering a vicious kick to the stomach of his attacker. The man - who upon the close inspection had yellow teeth and reeked of cheap alcohol – staggered. He caught himself at the last second, holding onto nearest table with white-knuckled desperation. Levi hit again, this time with his knee. With a gasp that turned into a groan, the man fell onto the ground.

Luckily, he stayed there, and Levi turned his attention to the other two.

The one who stood at the left attacked instantly, aiming his enormous fist at Levi’s jaw. There was an unfinished bottle of whiskey on the counter right behind him, and Levi grabbed it, smashing it against the man’s head. The resulting sound was loud, almost deafening. Levi tried to forget about the mess of spilled whiskey on the floor and let himself enjoy that pleasant sound for another moment.

That was a slight miscalculation on his part, because the last man apparently was armed with knife, and he swung it without hesitation. Levi jumped to the side, but wasn’t quick enough. The knife’s edge kissed his cheek, leaving a smear of blood behind it. A mere second later, the knife was in the air once again. Levi was ready for it this time, but as he prepared to take a swift step back, his ankle refused to budge. He looked down to see that one of the defeated men was back in the game, still laying on a floor, but holding Levi in one place. Levi quickly dealt with him, using another leg to kick the man’s head. It took him no more than a moment, but it was enough for him to lose sight of his last attacker. Whatever plan of retaliation Levi had, he lost it, when the knife embedded in his forearm, making him hiss and cuss. Irritated, he roughly grabbed the hand that held the knife, twisting the arm at the wrist.

There was a loud crack, then the even louder scream.

Not too elegant, but, at least, it did the job.

Yanking the knife out of his arm, Levi threw it away, allowing it to clutter on the ground.

“Get the fuck out of here!” he snarled at the men, who weren’t laughing anymore. On the contrary, their faces were panicked, frightened. They pathetically scrambled to their feet, pushing each other to get outside as fast as possible. “And don’t come back!” Levi shouted to their backs.

When the door fell closed, Levi slumped back against the counter. The spot on his cheek was tingling unpleasantly, his arm was hurting like a bitch, and the whole bar had turned into a mess – the shards of glass and spilled whiskey were all over the floor. The blood from his arm was creating a small puddle too.

Levi viciously cursed and grabbed a towel, making a make-shift bandage. It had to do for the time being.

One mess was dealt with, and now another was awaiting him. He’d be lucky if the dirty floor would be the biggest of his troubles tonight.

But somehow, Levi knew that it was just the beginning.

***

Levi never considered himself to be a philosophic kind of person, he never pondered on the meaning of things, never felt the desire to look at the problem at hand from all possible angles, never reflected on his feelings and emotions.

He did however notice that the small room he had rented in a shitty motel at the edge of the city never felt to him like home. It was a place to live, it had a bed to sleep, it held some of his belongings, but it wasn’t a home, it didn’t provoke in him the feeling of belonging that he found inside the walls of his and Kenny’s old apartment.

He spent a little more than two months, living in that shithole, and never once he thought – I’m home, never once he felt – I belong right here.

But something very similar was blooming in his chest, when he passed the threshold of his shitty motel room and fell right into the arms of Connie and Sasha.

Sasha started cleaning his wounds right away, while Connie rushed to get the new bandages for his bloodied arm.

“You should have been more careful,” Sasha chided, and, fuck, he really got adopted by a couple of kids just like that.

“We could have dealt with this ourselves,” Connie said, and then, after a little pause, added, “Probably.”

Levi hummed and resisted the urge to ruffle the hair on their heads. He didn’t have that much affection for the little shits. Probably.

Just as they finished, Jean appeared, unsteadily walking out of the bathroom. He stopped not long after, leaning against the doorframe. Patched up and cleaned, he still didn’t look like his usual, confident and complacent self. Now he reminded Levi of a puppy who was thoroughly and viciously kicked. His hair was now clean of blood, but the shirt was still covered in red patches. Levi would have offered him one of his own t-shirts, but… on Jean’s lanky body it’d look more like a crop top. Or a child’s shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Jean murmured, not meeting Levi’s eyes. “I didn’t know it’d lead to this.”

Yeah, they almost never know. Levi sighed, there was no point in scolding boy any further. He had realized his fuck up already, his buddies from the gang made sure of that.

“What the hell happened?” Levi asked, his back turned to Jean, as he went to prepare the tea for all of them. It would help to soothe some of Jean’s injuries, and it would also help to relieve Levi of the building tension in his shoulders.

“I… wasn’t quite ready for this life, I guess,” Jean sat down on a bed, covering his face with hands. “There is a guy I’ve been working with, he stole some drugs he was supposed to sell, and other gang members found out and decided to punish him, make an example out of him, but that guy… he was my friend, sort of? We hanged out a lot, and I just couldn’t see him get hurt like that…”

“Oh my god!” Sasha’s hands flew to her face and her mouth opened wide. “Did you get beat up because you tried to protect Marco?”

Connie snorted. “I see you’re getting over Mikasa pretty quickly.”

Behind his hands, Jean’s face started to gain color. “I just helped a guy out.”

“And didn’t even ask for a kiss after the heroic rescue?” Sasha teased.

“There wasn’t much time for kisses after the whole gang started running after us.”

“You poor thing,” Connie patted Jean’s head, sharing a mischievous look with Sasha. “Didn’t even get a kiss for all the trouble.”

The two boys started to bicker, and Levi watched the scene, feeling the pounding inside his head increase. It’d be a long, long night. The one he’d have to spend sleeping on a floor, because there were three brats in his room and only one queen-sized bed.

He raised a hand, putting a stop to the argument that was starting to raise in volume.

“Is the other guy alright?” he asked Jean, as he handed him a cup, filled with steaming tea.

Jean accepted the drink with a grateful nod, but didn’t answer the question right away, staring inside the cup thoughtfully. “He managed to get out of the city. The assholes that beat me up caught me just after he got on a bus.”

Well, that was certainly good news. The only one they received since the beginning of this evening.

“You have to run away too, preferably for quite some time. Those guys won’t forget about you so easily. Do you have a place where you can hide?”

“Well…” frowning, Jean rubbed his neck, “My parents have a summer house…”

“Excellent, does anyone know about it?”

“No, not even these idiots,” Jean answered, pointing at Sasha and Connie.

“Then take these idiots, because your gangster pals know, where all of you live and work,” Levi grumbled. “And get out of here first thing in the morning. Spend a few months in the countryside, wait until this shitty storm is over.”

“And what about you? Now they know about you too.”

What about him… good question. And a very easy one to answer. He’d have to change cities again, luckily, he already had some experience with that. Sure, it was an inconvenience, but… better than live his life and have to constantly look over his shoulder, or die in some dirty alleyway. Perhaps, he’d be able to return some day, when the tensions were long over.

“I’ll leave the city,” he told them. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You had to run away before?” Connie asked, awe written all over his face. “So cool!”

“And you beat up all these guys for us!” Sasha agreed, adoration shining in her gaze.

“You aren’t just a janitor, eh?” Jean stared at him with narrowed eyes.

Levi saved from answering by a loud shrill of the phone.

Everyone in the room tensed, Levi felt his heart pounding inside his chest, a relentless boom, boom, boom. He wet his lips, his throat suddenly too dry, and stood up.

“No!” Jean grabbed his arm, stopping Levi from picking up the phone. Levi understood his panic, it was the middle of the night, who in their right mind would call him at this time? Who would call him period, all the people Levi knew in this city were sitting next to him. Unless, it was Shadis who got out of his drunken stupor and decided to have a friendly chat with a janitor from his bar?

And if it wasn’t Shadis, then…

Acutely feeling his every heartbeat, Levi pulled his arm out of Jean’s grasp. Swallowing that persisting lump inside his throat down, he put his hand on a phone handle. Slowly, holding in his breath, he lifted the phone and put it to his ear.

“Is your name even Levi? Or was that another lie, you asshole?”

That voice. Her voice. Levi helplessly fell back in the armchair behind him.

“H-hange?” the crack in his voice was heard and analyzed by a bunch of kids, who now all stood beside him. Levi waved them away, drowning out the intrigued murmuring, and focused on a person on the other side of the line.

“You still remember my name, I’m flattered, Ackerman,” ah, so she found out. Not surprising in the slightest, but disappointing nevertheless. But how did she find out? And when? And why she was calling now? And how she managed to obtain the number of a motel he was staying at? So many questions, Levi wanted to ask them all at once. He didn’t even know where to start. “And just a piece of friendly advice, next time you go into hiding, don’t go around asking police officers on a date.”

Well, that was one question answered. Only one hundred remained.

“Are you going to arrest me now?”

“No, unfortunately,” Hange bitterly replied. “I need you, Ackerman. For work,” she added, before Levi could get any ideas and just before his heart started racing like crazy. “Take the first flight back to city, if you don’t want me to drag you out of there by force. I’ll be waiting for you in the airport.”

Hange was going to end the call, Levi could practically see her finger hover over the button. Before she did, he cried out, “Wait!” and then, much more calmly he added, “What do you need me for?”

“Your uncle went missing. I need you to help me find him.”

The line went dead immediately after that. It took Levi another moment to pull himself together.

Kenny was… missing? Kenny, his ruthless, unstoppable uncle? And Hange was looking for him? Too much was unknown, too much was unclear, too much was yet to be explained.

One thing for sure, he wouldn’t find the answers here. Well, one problem was solved then, he didn’t have to change cities anymore. He’d just have to return home.

“So.”

Just a short word, but so much meaning was put in it. With a feeling of dread, Levi turned to face Sasha. He shuddered at the sight of her wide, shit-eating smile.

“Hange, hm?” she asked, twirling a lock of hair.

“Hange is your someone, right?” Connie excitedly exclaimed. “Your Mikasa?”

“Hange is his Marco,” Sasha corrected, earning a vicious curse and a middle finger from Jean. “I guess it’s all over with Mikasa.”

It was all over with Hange too. There was nothing with Hange to begin with. And there would be nothing, because apparently she hated him now. For a good reason too.

Fuck. Kenny, Hange, the brats, they all caused Levi a massive headache. And there was no running away from it, they’d find him whenever he ran.

Perhaps, it meant that he had to stop running. And come back home.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he told the kids. “A long journey is ahead of you. And ahead of me too.”

“You’re leaving? To your Hange?”

“Hange is not my someone, I’m just leaving,” Levi grunted, turning off the light. “Go to sleep before I knock you all out.”

Thankfully, they listened and got on a bed without a word of complain.

“It’s good that your Hange found you,” Sasha mumbled, already sleepy. “Maybe, now you won’t be so sad anymore.”

Sasha seemed to fall asleep immediately after, not waiting for Levi’s answer. Or, perhaps, she wasn’t interested in it.

Soon Connie was out as well, and even Jean, after a few of tosses, turns and more than a dozen pained groans managed to settle in comfortably and fall into deep slumber.

Levi didn’t get so lucky, the thoughts about what tomorrow would bring swirling in his mind and keeping him awake.

But, well… at least his melancholy and homesickness wouldn’t be a problem anymore. After two months of being away, he was going home at last.

Strangely, the prospect didn’t seem that thrilling.

[goldentournesol]

Mon Lapin

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Reader owns a French bakery at which Spencer is a regular.

Length: 1.6k

A/N: the french bakery au no one asked for :) i’m aware my French isn’t perfect, please don’t roast me!! MAJOR FLUFF AND PINING

Read Part 2: Mon Cher

masterlist

The air was crisp in September and Spencer loved it. He used the weather as an excuse to leave his house more often. He liked the way the wind nipped at his nose, but when it got too much, he’d find refuge in his favorite French bakery, La Crème de la Crème. The smell of freshly baked bread and buttery pastries gave him a sense of security he longed for. There were other reasons he liked to go there as well...he liked the soft armchairs...the fresh coffee...the beautiful woman who happened to own the bakery. He also liked the way her eyes softened as they met with his upon entering the store. He’d been away, guest lecturing at different universities so he hadn’t visited the bakery in a while.

“Dr. Reid, welcome back! How were the lectures?” She asked warmly, waving at him from across the counter as he offered a shy wave back.

 She had her hair tied up in a neat ponytail, with one braid across the top of her head. Her apron had minimal chocolate and coffee stains at which he grinned because he remembered how she’d been complaining to him about how many aprons she’s ruined. Spencer couldn’t help but admire every inch of her. But she’d just asked him a question, what was it?

“Oh, they were great! You know, I’ve found that college students are often at the ends of the interest spectrum. Either they’re extremely interested or they don’t even care, it’s quite amusing.” He commented, heat rushing to his cheeks. 

She replied with a soft giggle and nodded. She silently cursed as she noticed a line forming behind him, she wanted to continue the conversation, “I’m sure it is! So what can I get you today, mon lapin? [my bunny] The usual?” Spencer nodded with a hum, a familiar grin adorning his face, “Alright, one coffee and one pain au chocolat coming right up!” 

Spencer paid and moved to the side to collect his order, itching to interact with her even more. He still blushed at the nickname, one she’d given to him early on. At first, he had no idea what it meant, which led to a very awkward conversation with Emily, who’d since then made it a point to repeatedly ask him about the mystery person who’d been referring to the lanky doctor with such an adorable term of endearment. 

He took a seat at his usual spot and pulled out the current book he was reading. As easy as it is for Spencer to get lost in the words, it was just as easy for her voice to pull his attention away from them. He glanced up at her often to watch her as she greeted customers and brought them their orders. She was entrancing, and he’d often find himself rereading pages and words he thought he missed when in reality, he’d just lost focus. Every once in a while, she’d catch his eye and send him one of her smiles and in those precious moments, he’d be glad he had enough knowledge about human anatomy or else he’d be concerned about the way his heart would swell in his chest.

Spencer looked up from his book to see a man and a woman walking into the bakery together. They looked lost and out of place. They approached the counter and the man spoke with broken English to Y/N.

“Erm, mademoiselle...we are...how do you say...lost?” He stumbled over his words. They were obviously not American.

“Oh! Je peux vous aider, je parle en peu de Français.” [I can help you, I speak a little bit of French.] Y/N beamed at the couple, happy to finally put her language skills to good use.

“Magnifique! On a vu votre pâtisserie et a espéré qu’on va trouver quelqu'un qui parle Francais.” [Magnificent! We saw your pastry shop and hoped to find someone who speaks French] the woman exclaimed, “On a veut aller au musée national d’histoire naturelle, mais on s’est perdue, vous savez les directions?” [We wanted to go to the National Museum of Natural History, but we got lost, you know the directions?]

Spencer watched in amusement as well as in awe as she gave them the directions in flawless French. Although he knew enough to get by, he was nowhere near as fluent as she was. Spencer was rarely ever impressed but the way the words left her mouth reminded him of velvet.

The couple smiled gratefully and waved as they left the store. Y/N felt elated that she’d helped someone, but she couldn’t fight the blush that warmed up her cheeks when she caught Spencer staring at her in awe. He flushed immediately and averted his gaze, embarrassed to have been caught staring. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and straightened out his tie, in an attempt to regain his composure. But all she could do was bite her lip to keep from grinning, which her dear coworker noticed and proceeded to wiggle her eyebrows at her in a teasing manner. Y/N jokingly threw a towel at her coworker who knew all about Y/N’s infatuation with the young doctor.

---

Spencer thought of a plan. Casual conversation was not enough for him, he needed a way to grab her attention while somewhat staying in his comfort zone. What better way to do that than through literature? So, there he was, sat inside the bakery on another beautiful day, holding a French book. Although he recognized some words from English, the sentence structure was throwing him off. He pretended to be engrossed in the words as she passed by his table, a tub full of used plates and silverware perched on her hip.

“Les Fleurs du Mal?” [The Flowers of Evil] Y/N exclaimed as she glanced at the cover of the book Spencer was holding. He mentally high-fived himself before directing his attention to the breathtaking woman, “You didn’t tell me you could read French, mon lapin!” she grinned as she took a seat across from him, placing the tub by her feet. Spencer let his eyes roam over her excited features as he smiled sheepishly.

“Um, well actually I’m only just getting there.” He replied, taking a sip of his now freezing coffee after putting the book down. He’d been too nervous about the plan to even think of his coffee. “Are you a fan of Charles Baudelaire’s work?”

Y/N tried not to swoon over his adorable attempt at pronouncing the French name. It was impossible not to swoon over this man in general, his round amber eyes were as captivating as one’s eyes possibly could be. His eyes reminded her of the way the sun shined through glass jars of honey. She was suddenly grateful for the reduced amount of customers in the bakery.

“Well, I’ve read the poems in Les Fleurs du Mal and I loved the whole thing. Mainly because he wasn’t afraid to be controversial, considering it was published in 1857. I would have never taken you as the type to read lots of French poetry, though, Dr. Reid.” She teased, knowing full well that he was a man of science.

“Why is that? Do I not strike you as the romantic type?” He countered with a raised brow and a lopsided smile, a newfound wave of confidence coursing through his veins. 

He couldn’t believe he had her right where he wanted her and that his plan had actually worked. He had no idea, of course, that she’d been closely paying attention to the books he’s read in her shop, hoping that one day she just might recognize one.

She acted like she was thinking about it, placing a finger on her chin theatrically, “Hm, actually, you do. You strike me as the type of guy who would buy flowers for their date, but not red roses, though, too cliché for your liking. You’d probably get them lilies...or irises!” Spencer fell in love with the way she spoke to and about him. He found himself reveling in the sound of her voice and her endearing expressions.

“So which would you prefer?” Spencer asked, eyes softening at her as she brought her gaze back to him.

“What do you mean?” She asked, feeling some heat rising to her cheeks.

“Would you prefer irises or lilies?” He clarified, raising both eyebrows slightly.

If she hadn’t known any better, she’d say that Dr. Spencer Reid was trying to ask her out on a date, but she didn’t push it, in case he wasn’t.

“Lilies.” Y/N grinned. Spencer let out a chuckle and she swore her heart was about to burst.

“Alright, it’s settled.” he announced, taking one last sip of the coffee, “I’ll be getting you lilies for our date.”

She must have misheard him, “Wait, what date?”

“The date we’ll have tomorrow. At 7 pm.” He picked up the book and shoved it into his messenger bag, nodding his head once at her decidedly. “I’ll wait for you here.” He grinned at her as he got up and made his way to the door.

Y/N’s eyes followed him out of the shop. Her brain hadn’t yet processed what had just happened. She looked towards her coworker who had been sneakily watching the encounter from behind the pastries in disbelief and finally snapped out of it when she caught her coworker hugging a towel and squealing. It finally registered and she couldn’t fight the grin that threatened to split her face in two anymore. 

That Spencer Reid was one hell of a man.

Part 2: Mon Cher

[noodlewill]

daddy, please - suga scenario (m)

daddy min yoongi x little male reader

word count: 2,312

yoongi texts you some exciting instructions. you want to be a good boy for your daddy, so all you can do is obey.

requested by anon

For the third time in five minutes, you pulled your phone out of your pocket, unlocking it with a smile as you saw your lock screen - a picture of you and Yoongi, both smiling as your faces pressed against each other. You opened the messenger app, rereading the text you had received from your boyfriend not long earlier. It could have been the cool morning air that reddened your cheeks, but you found it more likely that the pink blush dusting your skin was caused by the words you were scanning with your eyes.

“i need you to go over to my apartment,” the text read. “there’s a present for you on the bed. i want you waiting there for me when i get home. don’t let me down, baby boy.”

His words made your heart flutter excitedly. You could hardly wait to find out what Yoongi had gifted you with, although you were even more excited to see him later that day. He was going to be out working for the next few hours, and you could only imagine the anxious impatience you’d experience over the course of the day while you waited for him.

Despite your immense thankfulness for the instructions you’d been given to carry out through the day, a part of you was mourning the day you’d lost, which you had planned to spend in your pyjamas, watching cartoons. You pushed these thoughts out of your head; you were an obedient and respectful little boy, and you were eager to please your Daddy. And it was true that you were more than elated at the thought of a present from Yoongi, just for you.

Once you reached the building where Yoongi lived, you practically skipped up the stairs to his apartment, so overjoyed that you barely even cared that the elevator wasn’t working. Running up the many sets of stairs only served as a method of releasing the overwhelming excited energy that was gathered in your body.

You let yourself in with the key that you had been trusted you with, and dashed straight towards the bedroom, not even pausing to remove your coat or shoes. Before entering the room, however, you sheepishly turned your head to look behind you, checking that you hadn’t left any muddy footprints on the pale-coloured carpet. You heaved a sigh of relief when you saw that you hadn’t, and pushed open the door.

You let out a small gasp when you saw the package lying on the bed, just as Yoongi had told you it would be. You picked it up gently, the paper wrapping rustling with the movement. The parcel felt soft and squishy, and not very heavy. It felt like... clothes, perhaps? You couldn’t hold off any longer, and you tore away at the paper, revealing the contents. Your mouth hung agape in awe as you gazed at the item you held.

It appeared that Yoongi had treated you to some expensive lingerie. In front of your eyes was a creation of delicate fabric, in a shade of beautiful baby blue. The soft blend of silk and lace felt precious and magical in your hands, and you were beyond grateful for it. You yearned to see the look on Yoongi’s face when you wore it. More than that, you were desperate for him to tear it off your body. Even at the thought, you began to get riled up. You began to get changed immediately, aching to see how you looked.

You had spent the day simply trying to pass the time, but nothing could distract you from the impatience which had you so restless. You had spent some time playing on your phone, watched some tv, even tidied up Yoongi’s apartment, which was mostly immaculate anyways. Around half an hour before he was due to arrive home, you gave up trying to entertain yourself, and lay on the bed waiting for him, donning the elegant outfit that you had grown to adore. You stared fixedly at the lingerie hanging off your body, your fingers toying with the fine cloth. You heaved a happy and satisfied sigh, appreciating the gift with pure adoration in your eyes.

Once the blessed sound of the front door opening hit your ears, you jumped excitedly, but contained yourself enough to stretch out, positioning yourself into an alluring pose on the bed.

Yoongi appeared in the doorway, and your heart rate increased in an instant. He looked so stunning, wearing a shirt and tie and looking at you with a sultry eye.

He merely stood there for a few moments, drinking in the view. You watched as his eyes raked up and down your body. He thirstily took in the sight of you, from your long, bare legs, to your broad chest which was wrapped in the pastel-coloured material. His eyes stopped, and lingered on your crotch. The lingerie which Yoongi had bestowed upon you was directed at a female market, and so the shape of your cock was clearly visible, already growing hard and beginning to spill out of your pants.

Yoongi licked his lips, and finally spoke. “Right where I wanted you to be. Good boy.”

You beamed at the praise he gave you, his words meaning everything to you. “Do I look good, Daddy?”

He hummed lightly. “You look perfect, angel. You never disappoint.”

Your cheeks reddened proudly at his approval. You sat up with courage. “Can... Can you kiss me?” you asked, looking up at Yoongi through your eyelashes.

“How can I say no to such a well-behaved little boy?” he replied with a smirk, drawing closer to you. He leaned down, his fingers drifting across your jaw. You closed your eyes and melted into his touch. The contact was so slight, but even still its effect on you was gigantic. You felt goosebumps pop up along your skin, and you wanted to feel his hands on you every second of the day.

After seconds of glorious and dreadful teasing, he graced your lips with the kiss you had asked for, which was gentle at first, until he snaked his hand around to cup the back of your head, attacking your lips with more fervour. You mewled into the kiss, and he took the opportunity to sneak his tongue in between your lips, licking into your mouth.

You reached out with your hand, placing it on Yoongi’s waist, lusting for more proximity. He allowed it to rest there for not even a second before he cut off the kiss, picking up your hand and removing it softly. “Don’t touch Daddy unless he gives you permission,” he reminded you sternly. “Okay, kitten?”

You nodded bashfully, murmuring an apology.

Yoongi shifted back slightly, raising his hands to release the tie from around his neck. His strong, thick fingers removed the strip of fabric, before moving to undo the buttons of his shirt. He slowly made more of his body visible, starting from his defined collarbones, and moving onto his pecs before revealing his tight abs. You admired his shoulders as he shrugged out of the white shirt. Such a simple action almost had you drooling, although you found no reason to chastise yourself; you did have the hottest and most handsome Daddy in possibly the whole world.

You couldn’t prevent yourself from letting out an audible breath when he went to unbuckle his belt. A low chuckling sound emerged from his throat, his hands pausing. “You can’t wait to see me take off my pants, can you? You’re in love with my dick, hm? Isn’t that right, baby? My little cockslut.”

His dirty words enticed a quiet moan from you. “Yes, Daddy,” you agreed.

“You’re a good little boy,” Yoongi told you. “You look so good, all dressed up in your new costume for me. I’m gonna be nice to you today.”

You made a purring sound. “Thank you, Daddy. You’re so kind to me.”

He resumed the taking off of his clothes, unfastening his belt in order to pull down his trousers. Your breath hitched as your eyes met the sight of Yoongi’s growing bulge inside the dark fabric of his boxers. He continued to strip until he was completely naked, and you itched to wrap your lips around his length, but you wanted to behave for Daddy, didn’t want him to think you were a naughty boy.

He began to stroke his manhood, so close to you, but not nearly close enough. He grew harder before your eyes, and you couldn’t hold back the whimper that left your mouth. Yoongi responded to this, stepping nearer to you once again. “Are you ready, little boy? Do you want my cock in your mouth?”

You nodded with a whine. “Please, Daddy.”

“Alright,” he approved, and you opened your mouth for his erection, looking up at him with wide eyes as he pushed his shaft down your throat. You groaned, and the vibrations teased a gasping moan from Yoongi. You watched proudly as his expression twisted into one of bliss, delighted at the pleasure you were able to give him. Your mouth and throat were unbelievably full, the feeling of it blowing your mind,

You longed to reach out and help his length into your mouth, fondle his balls as he thrusted, and his panting only egged you on. He pulled out of your mouth before you could misbehave, and although your aching jaw was relieved, you let out a moan at the loss of Yoongi’s dick in your mouth.

“Not yet, baby, you don’t get my cum just yet,” he puffed, the sensations having left him breathless. You whimpered, your throat aching and your cock painfully hard.

“C-Can you touch me now, Daddy?”

“You’re so needy,” he cooed, stroking your cheek. “So cute when you’re needy.”

Yoongi gently pushed you back, putting you into a lying position on the bed. He leaned over you, dipping his head down to nip your neck, causing you to shiver involuntarily. He let his dark eyes roam over your body. “How do you manage to look so fucked when your dick hasn’t even been touched yet?” he asked, sounding slightly awestruck. You simply exhaled as a response, hungry for the feeling of his hands on your skin.

He granted your wish seconds later, his open hands grazing your sides, playing with the material that adorned your body, slowly inching towards your crotch. You let out a whine, Yoongi’s teasing driving you insane.

“Beg for me.” His words were whispered, but with the way they echoed in your ears, the sound reverberating around your mind, he could have yelled it.

“Please, Daddy. I need you to touch me, I need to feel your hands on me. Please, please make me feel good or I’ll die,” you cried out.

You saw the satisfied smile on Yoongi’s face as he spoke. “I can see how badly you want this, baby.”

His hand finally found your cock, palming it through the lingerie. You groaned loudly, dissolving into pleasure under his touch.

“More, more,” you pleaded with him.

“Don’t get greedy, now,” Yoongi chuckled at this, but obliged anyways, yanking off the scanty lingerie straight away. He wrapped his fingers around your dick, stroking it, slower than you would have liked, but brilliantly nonetheless.

“Mmm,” you hummed throatily, basking in the feelings your Daddy was giving you. The head of your penis glowed red, desperate to release its load. You grew closer to the height of your climax, even the lightest of Yoongi’s touches affecting you in the greatest way.

“Am I... Am I allowed to come, Daddy?” you requested his permission.

He teased you, continuing to pump your length whilst he pressed light kisses across your chest. “Hmm... I don’t know. Have you behaved yourself? Do you think you deserve to come?”

You nodded your head wildly whilst panting. “I’ve been a good boy, Daddy.”

“Alright. You can come, baby.” Almost as soon as he spoke, the white liquid spurted from your cock. His words were like magic, a key unlocking you, bringing you to the edge.

“Th-thank you, Daddy,” you rasped, your breaths ragged.

“Do you want to help Daddy come now?” he asked of you, his cheeks flushed. You agreed, sitting up eagerly, and he gave you allowance to touch him.

You gathered saliva in your mouth, spitting it, letting it fall from your tongue onto Yoongi’s cock, serving as lubrication for your actions. You gripped the base, slowly tugging upwards, all the while looking up into his hazy eyes.

"Such a lovely boy," he praised you whilst you moved. "So good with your hands."

You gradually picked up the speed, utilising both of your hands. You alternated between squeezing and stroking, occasionally tickling his thighs with light kisses.

When Yoongi gave a moan of, “Ah, baby,” you knew he was close, and you swirled your tongue over his tip as you stroked. He released his cum, and it splashed over your face, hitting your lips and cheeks.

“You did so good, Y/N,” he gasped. “Look so pretty with my cum marking your face.” You twinkled with delight, before licking your lips to rid them of Yoongi’s salty cum.

You snuggled into his side, enfolding your arm around his bare and sweating waist. “Sweetheart, we can cuddle after we’ve cleaned ourselves up,” Yoongi protested.

You made a noise of disagreement. “Just one more minute.”

He sighed, giving in to you. “Alright.”

You smiled to yourself, seeing that he was wrapped right around your finger, although you knew he’d deny it if you mentioned it. Despite the argument he would make, there was solid proof that lied in the fact that when you fell asleep against his chest, he did nothing to stir you, instead cleaning you up as you slept, an expression of ultimate fondness on his face.

[soreillia]

Reunion

Inside one chamber of Prontera Castle, an armored woman was talking to a noble man sitting on his chair next to a table filled with documents.

“I apologize for taking so long with reporting back, Sir. This is all information I was able to gather. I beg your pardon to have failed my duty as member of the noble family von Creutz-- the important mission appointed towards me. I did my very best but I was not able to find the runaway princess.”

The man frowned and stared at the papers, leafing through them. Then he nodded to himself.  After rereading parts of the reports, he scratched his head and let out a heavy sigh in disappointment, giving the armored woman a sign she can leave since there was nothing more to talk about. The Royal Guard woman bowed politely and then left the room, closing the door behind her. Maybe it would have been better to have return to Prontera way earlier… I should have not let him wait for that long. Sacred Blood finally had returned with her reports and as she was afraid of the results of her mission ended in utter disappointment of her superior. She clenched her fist feeling bitter about the failed mission and her conversation just now with her leader. There were so many things she wished went differently. Frustrated with herself, she moved through the corridors of Prontera castle heading towards the exit at the south, trying to held her head high. “Lady Sacred is love, Lady Sacred is life!!” “Lady Sacred where have you been for so long~?” 

“Is it just me or she became even prettier than before? Haha~! I should try ask her for a date!” Some whistling, laughter and chatter was heard from the sides by male Crusaders, who were resting inside the Prontera Castle. She was quite popular in Prontera between the Crusader and Clergy members of Prontera Church, she was also serving for a long time. Sacred noticed, how she drew their attention. She felt uncomfortable and decided to ignore them. She didn’t want to talk to anyone being very upset due to her failed mission. All she wanted now was head back to her mansion. Her home she hasn’t seen for more than a year. “Kuukuuu!” Her gryphon was waiting for her just outside of the castle. Sacred smiled at her and gave the gryphon Kirikyu a pat on her feathery head and then climbed on the back of her winged steed. “Let us go, my girl. We will finally head back home. I wonder, how Riza is doing… maybe she already left us…? I definitely would not blame her, after all this time we left her home alone.” ~~~ On the back of the gryphon, Sacred arrived at the entrance gates to her mansion. “S-SORE--?! Y-YOU ARE BACK?!” A female voice yelled in surprise. Sacred noticed how someone was climbing up the gates. The person jumped down after seeing the Royal Guard on her gryphon and ran towards her. “R-reiru!! You are alive?! Thank Odin… I am glad to see you again.” “Alive-?! Huh?! As if I get myself killed so easily~!” Reiru grinned at her best friend. “But hey, where have YOU been?! Everyone was worried about YOU! You disappeared leaving some strange note and tons of misspelled letters!” Reiru gave her friend a punch in her armored arm, being a little bit mad at her, however happy to see her being well. “O-ouch--! Okay, punching your armor was not the best idea.” Sacred giggled and climbed off the gryphon. “I am so sorry, Reiru to have you make worried. So, you read the note…? Did Riza show it to you…?” “Hmph, yeah that girl is super worried about you! How can you just leave her alone at your mansion without telling her when you will return or anything!? What a cruel master you are! However she didn’t trust in giving me the keys to your mansion... I hurt my butt so many times having to climb up over this stupid gate!!” “Ahaha… well I did ordered her to not open this gate until I am back. Who knows what kind of pervert would sneak into my mansion, while I’m gone.” “Hmph, don’t lump me together with these guys!! I told her I’m your best friend, so I should get some special arrangements, right?!” “Well maybe you do not seem to appear trustworthy to her.” Sacred opened the door for then to enter the property. “Let us get inside first though, Reiru. I guess there is a lot we have to tell each other… it has been a while since our last meeting.” Reiru pondered about her words. It really has been a while and so many things happened during that time. The very last time was their meeting after the clash between Ryouhei and Vivian and her. After that Reiru had disappeared to find more clues about Ryouhei’s past. There was so much she had to tell Sacred about, especially about Ryouhei, who was now known under the name Sivard. Passing the garden, Sacred noticed all the blooming red roses and other flowers. The garden was surprisingly well-tended. Her maid Riza must have taken very good care while she was gone, since no one else was there with the exception of Reiru, who was sneaking into the mansion already so many times in the past. “Master, you have returned! Welcome home, master.” Riza the Sohee dressed as maid was waiting at the door to the mansion and greeted her with a politely bow. “Riza… you have waited for my return all this time, have you? I am so sorry to have left you with just this single note.” Sacred walked to her and gave her servant a hug. “Of course, I would even wait centuries for your return master! I washed your dresses everyday and even prepared the bed, waiting for the day of your returning.” “...Was that even necessary, when she's not at home?” Reiru commented. “A lot has happened, Master. Oh and we also had a lot visitors, while you were absent. Master’s friends were looking for you, Master.” “Visitors…?” Sacred wondered, who these people might be she was talking about. “Ah, right. Master, there is also a gift for you. I was asked to give this to you, when you return.” The Maid Riza flew to a room and returned holding a ribbon adorned with a bell. “Tsk, our Lady Soreillia is just so very popular, no wonder she gets so many presents!” “This ribbon is very pretty…” Sacred said holding the ribbon in her hands, staring at it with a faint smile. “Who gave me this beautiful present?” Maid Riza and Reiru had a lot of stories to tell Sacred about what happened while she was gone. The three were sitting inside the living room, while mostly Reiru was talking and Riza just listening. ~~~ “Master, I apologize. Shall I prepare tea or coffee? Would you love to have biscuits too?” The maid interrupted the moment of silence between them, noticing she did not pay attention to her duty as servant and serve a drink. “Sure, I would love to have some coffee.” “Huh-- there were biscuits?! Where did you hide them from me?! Uhh- yeah I will take a coffee, too!” As Riza left the room to prepare the coffee and the biscuits, Reiru’s glance suddenly changed, as if she suddenly something bad remembered. “Sore… I am so glad to have you back, really.” “Hm…?” Sacred tilted her head wondering. “You do remember… why I suddenly left you, right…? After that clash… where you had to stop me.” Reiru bit her lip. “I was worried about you leaving so sudden. Actually on my mission I also made it my task to find you.” “Really?” “Yes, of course. You are my best friend! Of course I was very worried about your well-being.” “The friend, who mostly brought you into troubles, you mean. How many times you had to help me… what did I even do in return?” “Ah… do not worry about that, Reiru! When I was in trouble, you also helped me.” “Anyway… I do need your help again. It’s about Kouhei-- I mean… Ryouhei. Well he calls himself Sivard now.” “S-sir Ryouhei?” Sacred felt like a dagger stabbed her right into the chest. “I failed to protect him… he went missing… because of me. I was not there to protect him!” “Wait, why are you blaming yourself for that! Uhh well-- yeah he went indeed missing, but now he is back.” “He is back? Thank Odin! Is he doing fine? I was so worried little brother Ryouhei.” “Kind of… I guess? I mean his memories are back… kind of… I guess…? He remembered me! However he lost his memories of being “Ryouhei” or something. Tsk… if this annoying woman wouldn’t have screwed things up, I would have him back I guess… but meh! I don’t care anymore! It’s too late!” “Are you talking about Miss Vianchiel?” Sacred looked puzzled. “Ah… it’s been such a while again.” “Well yeah, who else…” Reiru felt very bitter thinking about how she lost her love to another woman. No matter what, the grudge towards her rival Vivian was deep inside her. “But yeah I don’t think he will remember you either. You didn’t meet him before he was an Archbishop too… right?” “I am afraid I did not… the first time we met he was an Archbishop and I gave him riding lessons. Hihi, I remember how much this alpaca of him liked little brother! She was really clingy towards him just like you-! It was such a cute scene between them!” “Hmph… still funny, how he named that big sheep after me, but at the same time did not even remember me. His real girlfriend, who went through all these troubles to find him again just to find him in the arms of some other woman.” “And I was not able to protect little brother in that part too. A love relationship as a servant of Odin is strictly forbidden and I was not able to stop him from taking this path. You see… all these bad things happen to him because of that.” “Meh… Do you really believe that…? I think he just has bad luck. A lot of bad luck! Not like I have any luck. Thinking about that… I bet you will get married before I do. It’s just a coincidence.” Reiru let out a sigh. “After all the man of my life was taken from me in such cruel way.” “No, that will not happen. I also should not have any love relationship, it will break the bond between my love to our God Odin. That is also why my parents died… did I not tell you before? They did not follow the rule that is why they were punished. I, as the last von Creutz, must repent for their sins and ask God Odin for forgiveness.” “Yeah... you told me that so many times. I am sure your dead parents would slap you right now for believing such a crap some wannabe priest told you, who was probably salty because he also did not get the woman of his life.” “I ask you to not bad-mouth my teachers, Reiru! Please have respect towards Odin’s devoted servants.” The Guillotine Cross scratched her head, wondering why her best friend was taking this so very serious and got so very quick upset. To Reiru these lectures, Sacred was talking about and following sounded not reasonable at all as if someone was just messing around with her best friend’s simple-mindedness. Unlike her friend, Reiru always had to question and not easily take people’s statements as truth. Normally she would just accept her best friends differences, but remembering a certain Archbishop, she kind of got aggressive towards Prontera Church in general. “Just because someone is a priest does not make them holy either, you know? You might believe you can trust priests from Prontera Church, but also that place is filled with hypocrites.” “Hm…? What do you mean?” Sacred tilted her head confused. “Alexius Soleil. Do you… know this Archbishop by any chance?” Riza entered the room and served the coffee and biscuits, not wanting to interrupt her master’s and her friend’s talk. “Thank you very much, Riza.” Sacred placed two sugar cubes into her cup of coffee. “Archbishop Alexius Soleil… you mean? I do know him. He is quite an exemplary servant from what I saw and heard.” “Don’t… make me laugh. He is not at all. This guy has targeted me, he assaulted me… and also was so very close in killing me! Well… most importantly he is targeting your little brother Ryouhei… Sivard. He wanted to use me to take vengeance on him. Of course I did not cooperate with him even though it sounded very tempting to take revenge on Sivard using this opportunity and support. However… this guy will do everything, while keeping his good reputation inside Prontera Church. I am just a Guillotine Cross doing his dirty work. And I am not strong enough to stop him… And I know too much that’s why he wants to get rid of me too. Either I help him or get killed, but hell I am not going to help him!” “He did what…?” Sacred was shocked and couldn’t believe she was talking about a devoted friendly appearing priest she actually looked up to. “He wants to take revenge on little brother?! But what did he do to him? We have to stop these actions!” “That is why I need your help. I am powerless against him… nor can I report him in my position. Nobody will believe me, no matter how many proves I can present. If someone can stop him then it’s you. With your high rank and reputation it is more likely to put him into prison. I would feel so much more safe knowing that this guy is not running around freely.” Sacred could see in Reiru’s face, this was a very serious issue. A priest… especially a high positioned one plotting revenge towards her little brother and also threatening her best friend? “That sounds very horrible. What else happened, while I was gone? I feel so very guilty I could not prevent all of these happening...” Sacred lowered her head staring into the cup of coffee. “No need to blame yourself, Sore! I guess my research about finding more out about your little brother’s past brought me into all of this mess. Also it is funny… it is thanks to that rag face I am still alive, I guess. He was staying with me most of the time, so Alexius couldn’t harm me. Also inside your mansion I am safe too!” “So… Sir Ragnis was helping you? That’s very nice of him.” Sacred remembered the Smith Ragnis Raynestolme too well, since she commissioned him many times to craft or upgrade her weapons. “Do not be afraid Reiru, now that I am here we will put your nightmare an end.” Reiru couldn’t help and inched closer to her, giving her best friend a hug. “Thank you so much, Sore! I feel so much more safe with you around!” “Ahh-- my coffee almost spilled-!” Sacred placed the cup of coffee back on the table and hugged Reiru back, while giving her also a pat on her head. “Shh… it is all right now.” “Hihi, we should celebrate your return with a lot of food first! Welcome back home, my friend!” Reiru teared a little bit up feeling so very happy. Of course there was so much more to tell, but for now she just wanted to eat something and just enjoy having her best friend safe and sound back.

[declassroomedteach-blog]

Jailhouse Salvation 101

Jailhouse Salvation 101

(word count approx 1570)

By Gina Fournier

 The Merchant-Ivory movie adaptation of E. M. Forster’s A Room with a View features a poignant scene following a street fight that ends in murder.  Lucy (Helen Bonham Carter) comments that you witness something memorable and think you’ll never be the same, but then you forget and return to your old self.  I hope to do a better job holding onto my jailhouse conversion, from skeptical to convinced about the existence of God.  

 Disclaimer: My conviction has wavered intensely even before I finished editing this essay.

Thanks to my former employer and its bad actors, an institution I’ll call Land of Motown Community College, where I served as an English teacher, I’ve seen the best and the worst of pure Michigan humanity.  If God created humans, God sure must have a sense of humor.

Even a smattering of details from my story sound like a rollercoaster Lifetime movie no one wants to watch.  Since 2012, I’ve been sexist witch-hunted through an ongoing living nightmare that has included hack shrinks, illegal and involuntary lock up in a Catholic mental health ward and now incarceration for thirty-four days in a mid-Michigan county jail for a crime I did not commit. College administrators, union teachers, dirty cops, dirty doctors, dirty nuns and dirty priests, plus the state’s top most government officials, have participated in the protection of white collar criminals and encouraged my simultaneous downfall.   All this for me, so one man can prove his power over unions near union ground zero.

The U.S. Constitution’s first amendment makes clear that government is not to establish any official religion, not protect any particular religion from existing laws. Perhaps the founding fathers could foresee the distant future.  Nearly two hundred fifty years later, a female citizen has found cause to invert the phrase “God bless you” with blasphemy, attempting to redress grievances.  

I’ve never met the emergency room doctor who signed me into a Catholic looney bin for a week.  To my horror, I was held in a Catholic Siberia, it turns out, on campus with my all girl Catholic high school.  I was raised and violated by the same church, which now pretends it’s never met me.  Thirty five years ago, for Halloween, classmates mimicked the Robert Redford movie Brubaker to stage a failed, backboneless prison break.  These classmates, who have also turned away from my plight, dressed not in hospital gowns or orange as the new black, but plaid skirts and knee socks adorned temporarily with stripes. (Good girls, we stopped mock rioting when the nuns glared.)

Unfortunately, there is no law or principle governing the intersection of religion and families.   In my time of need, even my immediate and extended family has turned away, exponentially multiplying my distress.  My extended Catholic family has not advocated for me, though it would cost nothing except some skin.  The anger caused by this and so many betrayals envelops like nuclear explosion.

However, I realized something on day thirty-three of my lock up in the big house.  Because the ties between families and religion tend to act like strangleholds, my estranged Catholic mother is incapable of doing the one thing I want and need her most to do: to demand that Livonia Catholics honestly investigate me claims.  Because of my new found belief, I forgive my aging mother.  She’s only human and doing the best she can.  (Unfortunately, the damage done feels irreparable.  Forgiveness does not mean I can tolerate her presence.)

Through five solid years of loss, I have been cornered mentally and financially into a nearly impossible position.  But the kindest of strangers have helped me to survive.  Downstate, nice generous neighbors responded to my cries for help by giving. Up north, the same.   People have given money, food, house wares, helpful supplies such as wood, shoes, warm clothes, plus their time and honest well wishes.  I wish I would have kept better track of the names and faces of the many regular people who have been so kind, forming a lifeline, keeping me alive.

My fighting spirit has kept better track of my transgressors, including Fox News Detroit, which ran a sexist hack piece in 2015 cutting together footage I asked them not to shoot in order to make me look looser than loopy.  In search of more positive and helpful press, my creative and liberal mind encouraged me to tag my own, downstate old-ring suburban home with a metaphoric phrase that offended and confused.  “A religious figure criminally violated me!” Only my version was Twitter-short.  Basic sentence: subject, verb, object.  

Passersby assumed I was nutz.  I’m not. Unfortunately, the human resources’ labor attorney and architect of my nightmare is smart enough to know that once a crone-aged female is labeled crazy dangerous, most people won’t bother to parse the facts.  Just ask Hillary.  Voters elected a man without ethics, unwilling to practice stability, a sexual harasser, eager to “lock her up!”

I recreated my civil rights protest up north at a lake named after the largest city in New Brunswick. Maybe I watched too many episodes of Little House on the Prairie, after numerous rereadings of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books.  In middle age, without an income, I’ve been forced to gather wood and water for two years, for two winters, with a third approaching, in order to survive in my dead husband’s summer cabin, which is facing tax forfeiture, and soon.  In both iterations, I repainted my eye-catching sacrilegious phrase with “Act Peace.”  I’m not a bad person, or dangerous, or interested in spreading evil. But Fox News Detroit has been not interested in my actual story.  

While I was incarcerated, nasty locals ran down my mailbox to which my sign “Act Peace” was nailed, and then took the sign.  Two paintings espousing the Statue of Liberty have been stolen.  My sign about the connection between the dirty cop who put me in jail and Land of Motown Community College was stolen, I’d guess by the dirty cop.  My cries for “help!” with needed justice have been ignored.  Instead, community officials at this private lake community have bent the law with the help of dirty local county officials, who may try to re-arrest me over the care of my feces.  Yes, you read correctly.  My troubles continue.  Danger surrounds. This is not a pretty story.

(FYI. Please believe me. I’m still be getting my proverbial shit together, but I’ve always I properly and responsibly discarded my poop.)

Something wicked this way came, and stayed, but I pray to harness goodness and finally slay the beast on my back. I’ve been falsely accused of being suicidal and a danger to society within a country that has grown accustomed to men mass murdering and sexual harassing.  I know the pain of mental illness in the form of mental torture, so I feel very sympathetic to those, especially military veterans, who suffer from PTSD.  Mental pain is real.  And can be excruciating.  I realize no matter my idiosyncratic tendencies, finally winning a measure of justice will require the help of other people, and, well, by any name, I guess God.  I know that God may not intercede with my legal and financial problems but belief in a higher power does help with gratefulness and tranquility.

In jail, every day is a good day to die.  However, the smallest graces save a tattered soul and help a person carry on to the next long minute.   I want to thank the two women who ran Bible study every Tuesday.  Yes, you read correctly.  Unbeknownst to them, they gave me gold for a writer without means: a composition notebook, on my 54th birthday, which was an otherwise desolate milestone.  Moreover, these women of God showed me a respectable and inspirational version of Christianity.

On cable tv, my cellmates preferred back-to-back episodes of Cops, shows about zombies, the shallow high jinks of Jerry Springer, endless sci-fi.  (I prefer comedy and drama.)  The day I was eventually sprung from the slammer, my legal troubles abated but not erased, Unsolved Mysteries ran a segment on St. Pio, an Italian priest who was said to develop stigmata and miraculously heal.  Angered, under stress, I admit I acted out loudly like an ass (even by jail standards): “I hope they roast his nuts!”  

Many jail birds claim to accept Jesus as their savior, though none gave up their bottom bunk for the pregnant woman in our ranks.  Critically, I recognized around me the kind of souls who would have rejected Mary and Joseph. But I was forced to realize this was not a television segment that was going to uncover more Catholic dirt.  Although St. Pio may have self-inflicted his wounds, trapped in a county cell block, I dropped my bad attitude and truly felt in my body an undeniable wave of love.      

No surprise, in the short time since my release on PR bond, my nascent jailhouse conversion has been tested and wavered, fallen apart, and needing rebuilding.  Im not a saint.  My days are terrifying and unresolved.  But.  If I breathe calmly and deeply, and repeat my affirmations, what some call prayers, I recognize a connection between hope and light.    

House of Hope in Hersey, Michigan, offered me a composition notebook.  Any additional help readers may offer with legal defense, plumbing, back taxes, transportation, work or grace are appreciated. Thank you.  

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