#they think talking about dreams is boring

[jarofstyles]

Benefits

Hi lovebugs! This can be read as a standalone, but this is a 3 parter. The first part will be put up here but the next two are Patreon exclusives if you’re interested. (Part two is up now) I hope you guys love it.

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WC- 6.6k

Warnings- Asshole-ish H, smut, slight degrading, oral, slight possessiverry, etc

She knew he was watching.

A subtle smirk played on her lips as she helped herself to a drink in the kitchen, nearly able to feel the man’s eyes on her as he traced her dress. One she wore just for him, but would never admit to. He wasn’t good about hiding how much he watched her, how much he had been curious about her, but he hadn’t talked much to her. Only stared.

She'd been warned that Harry was a man of few words. He didn't go out of his way to talk, he was the stereotype of tall, dark, handsome and dangerous-but it's exactly what she's been craving. Twisting the lid back onto the mixer, she finally raised the cup to her lips as she turned around to face him. He wasn't hiding the fact that he was watching her. His eyes didn't stray. He liked that she didn't waver in her staring back, too. Y/N could tell.

It had been a long time since a man had properly excited her. She wasn’t exactly the easiest to please, if she was being honest. Y/N got bored easily, she liked to play games, to test people to see if they could handle her- but something about Harry had her fully understanding that he could handle her, no problem. Maybe it was just the look in his eyes that told her he was intrigued by her but also wanted to eat her alive, but she quite liked it.

Her eyes flirted with his, as she slowly took a sip, her throat bobbing delicately. "I think you're enjoying the view." Her voice was sultry, a taunt. She was baiting him, daring him to respond, to engage. The game of cat and mouse had been fun, but she wanted to be caught. "You're not very good at hiding it."

“M’not trying to hide it.” His raspy voice made her internally peek up. She’d only heard it a handful of times but each one had nearly had her purring. The man had the voice of her wet dreams, and she sort of hated how he was checking off boxes she had purposely put too high.

A small smirk played on her lips as she set the cup down, her hands moving to rest on the counter. She leaned forward, her arms stretching out in front of her, very aware she was very generously handing over a view of her chest for him to glaze over. "Is that so?" She asked, matching his tone. "You're just going to stand there and stare at me then?" The challenge was laid out softly, despite the tension in the room.

“Mm. I was enjoying the view.” His body was leaned against the cabinets of the kitchen, no shame at all in admitting the fact. “Think y’like when I look.”

Her eyes traveled up his face and met his eyes, a slow blink the only reaction to his words. She liked it, damn it. She liked being the focus of his attention, even if he wasn't saying anything particularly sweet or romantic. There was something about his blunt honesty that drew her in. "And what if I told you I don't like it?" She asked, her voice a gentle purr. "What would you do then?"

“I’d tell you t’stop looking like that and maybe we could come to an agreement.” His eyes kept contact with no issue, challenging her back. “I know you’ve been looking back at me when y’think I’m not going to notice.”

God, he was hot. It was infuriating, really. Men weren’t supposed to effect her like this. She’d always had the upper hand, but this one had her wavering as she reached up to twist a strand of her hair around her finger. "And what kind of agreement would that be?" She asked with a soft tilt to her voice. She loved the way he spoke, the way his accent rolled off his tongue. It was so…different to the general population of men she was used to. Some could accuse her of being excited over having a new flavor at her fingertips, but Y/N would argue that anyone who got a few moments alone with him would feel that level of excitement prickle their nerves. "One where I stop looking at you and you start talking to me?" The girl suggested, the small smirk playing on her lips growing.

“Perhaps.” Crossing his arms, he stood up off the counter and slowly sauntered over to her. “Was tryin’ to figure you out. Don’t get new additions in the group often, and you’re different than the people we’re usually around.” His tall form had her lifting her head a bit to keep his eyes as he stopped in front of her.

 She’d been right. He was taller than she’d thought, and broader. The man had kept a physical distance before, but now she was feeling the effects of him dropping that barrier. He was just so…large. And it made her feel small, which was a feeling she rarely experienced. "And what have you figured out?" She asked softly, tilting her head to the side as her eyes fluttered to his lips briefly before meeting his eyes again.

“I’ve figured out a couple of things.” Taking another step forward he gave her the chance to move if she wanted- but she didn’t. Backing against the counter, she didn’t shy away from him. “Mostly that you’re a little bit bratty, but you aren’t fake. You’ve been mostly nice t’everyone.” It had been a relief. Harry wouldn’t have been shy about calling her out on ulterior motives, but he only knew of one- and it had come after she’d already met everyone. “And you want me t’fuck you.”

She swallowed hard, her heart in her throat as he took another step forward. Again, she could have moved, but she didn't. Instead, she stayed put, her back against the counter as she met his gaze. His words were blunt, and she liked that about him. Most people would sugarcoat things, but not him. "And what if I do?" She asked, her voice faltering slightly for the first time in a long time. It was so different, but...She liked it. He had managed to get her to feel something different. Naturally making her feel a little more submissive when she had been so used to taking in the opposite role. 

“I’d fuck you.” Harry rose a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve wanted to do it since I met you. Had to figure out if you were someone who was going to stick around.” The tension was thick between them. “I don’t usually fuck people just once. Don't like to think with my dick. But I think you’d want it more than once.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the heat pooling between her legs at his words. She’d known he wanted her by the way he had looked at her body, but hearing him say it out loud had her insides quivering. He was so…crude and it was so hot. "I’d want it more than once." She admitted breathlessly. She wasn’t one to shy away from the fact. "And how many times do you think it would be?"

“I’m not in the business of letting you nut off and fuck off. If m’fucking you, you’ll be in my bed for hours. I don’t go easy.” It was the truth she needed to hear. Harry wasn’t one to half ass sex, and considering he’d been letting the want fester for a bit now, he had plenty of things he wanted to do for her. “Is that something you can handle?”

Her throat was dry, her voice hoarse as she responded, "Hours? That sounds...nice." She wanted to tell him that she could handle anything he threw at her, but she knew he'd only call her bluff. She'd never had a man talk to her like this before when she had confidence he could actually back up the claims, and it was exciting. Y/N wanted to know what else he'd say, what else he'd do. "And if I can't? What happens then?"

“Then I’ll walk away and let you continue your night. M’not going to do any of that if it isn’t what you can take, or isn’t what you want.” He made no effort to move, though, because he already knew what her answer is going to be. “You’re not gonna make it weird for everyone else in the group after we fuck, yeah? You’ll be able to behave yourself whenever we go out for the stupid dinners and drinks?”

She swallowed hard, his words making her feel things she hadn't felt in a long time. The way he was talking to her, the intensity in his eyes, it was all so new and thrilling. "I can handle anything you give me." She said softly, her voice filled with a confidence she didn't quite feel but wanted to project. "And I can behave myself. I'm not some teenager who's going to go running to the group about this."

“Just got t’be sure, Cherry.” Lifting a finger up towards her bottom lip, he smeared the lipstick with his thumb before pulling it back. “You don’t seem to be the kiss and tell type, but you never know.”

Her eyes fluttered closed briefly as his thumb brushed against her bottom lip, again the action so simple yet so hot. A little invasive- in a good way. She couldn't help but part her lips slightly, inviting him to touch her more. "I'm not. And besides, who would I tell?" She asked softly.

“That’s the right answer.” He sighed, taking a second to look over his shoulder and back to her face. “C’mon then. M’not fucking you here. Don’t want you to have to keep quiet. If I’m fucking you, I want to hear you.” Curling his hand around the back of her neck, he brought her out the back door. “S’a short walk.”

——-

He had a nice house. Smaller, with a porch and garage. Newly painted, lawn maintained and a little tree in the front. It wasn’t the bachelor pad she had expected, but she really didn’t know that much about him- did she? That was becoming more apparent the longer she spent near him. 

“C’mon. Inside.” He unlocked the door and ushered her in, relieving them from the chill of the night. “Shouldn’t go out without a jacket next time.” The grumble seemed to make her laugh as he tossed his keys into the bowl, kicking his shoes haphazardly on the mat. She hadn’t expected to go on a stroll, so she had left the jacket in her car- but he didn’t really care about that. “Do you want a drink? Or do you just want to get into it?”

Her eyes scanned the cozy interior of his home, taking her even further by surprise. No, it wasn’t the bachelor pad at all. It was tidy and clean, with a few personal touches that gave her a glimpse into what was probably his actual personality. She noticed a guitar in the corner, a few books on a shelf, and a framed photo on the mantle that she couldn’t quite make out. “Huh?” The place had warmth she hadn’t expected to see, and the distraction was evident as she vaguely heard him ask something.

“Do you want me t’get you a drink, or do you want me to get to fucking you?”

Her attention snapped back to him, his words making her blush. Honestly? She really did love how blunt he could be, no sugarcoating or beating around the bush. It was so common to have people be coy about what they wanted, but then again Harry wasn’t anything close to most people she had met.  "Oh, um, I think I'll go with the second option," Her words came out slightly shy, with a hesitant smile. She looked around the room again, taking in the details, before her gaze landed back on him. "But first, can I ask you something?"

“Yeah.” He grunted, taking a step into her space and putting his hands on her waist as he backed her further into the home. “Make it quick. Dick’s fucking aching.”

Her breath hitched as he moved closer, his hands on her waist making her feel small and delicate. She licked her lips, hesitation flickering in her eyes before she asked, "It’s just…Why me? You've barely said two words to me before tonight. And now...here we are." She trailed off, nibbling her lip. A nervous tell.

“Because I was trying t’see if you were someone that was going to stick around.” He said bluntly. “Lots of people pop in and back out. Didn’t know if you’d be one of the floaters. Got to watch you and see how you were before I talked to you. I wanted to see what you’d say.” While some could call it a little creepy, he’d more so put it as educating himself for the best result. “Wasn’t sure you’d be okay with me fucking you. Some people can’t handle me or how I talk. You’re a sweet little thing but I can tell you like some of the nasty shit. So we’d most likely get along.”

She blinked at him, processing his blunt words. A small, almost imperceptible shiver ran through her body at his assessment. He had been watching her, evaluating her...and apparently found her worthy of letting her see a whole different side of him. Y/N hadn’t pushed her luck in regard to asking about him but she figured there wasn’t much people would say anyways. It was obvious to her through her own observations that he had been quiet about a lot on purpose. Considering there were a few people in the group that did indeed find him incredibly attractive, it was more than exciting that he had chosen her- mirrored her own quiet interest. The thought sent a thrill down her spine. 

"I...I appreciate your thoroughness," she said, a slight tremor in her voice, though trying to still appear confident in the way she had tried to portray. It wasn’t an act- she really was like that- but Harry had that little edge to him that made her want to soften up. "And you're right, I can handle you. I like a man who knows what he wants."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “And what do you want, specifically?” Her voice was low, almost breathy as she looked up at him. “With me?” His words had given her a lot to think about. The way he had evaluated her, the way he had found her worthy all while barely knowing her, and the way he had so bluntly admitted that he wanted her around for more than just a one-night stand. But she wanted to hear it all.

“I want to have an arrangement between the two of us. Told you, m’not someone who fucks people once. Not sure if m’looking for a relationship, but I want to like the person I’m fucking.” It was convinent for a release, having an understanding. “We’ve obviously got physical chemistry, find each other attractive and have the same friends. I think…” He leaned his face closer to hers. “We should be friends that fuck. Often.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze locked onto his. "Friends with benefits," she clarified softly. "No strings attached, but...exclusivity?" She wanted to know that she was the only one he was sleeping with, even if they weren't in a traditional relationship. "And we can still hang out with our mutual friends, just...without them knowing the details?" She bit her lip, considering the proposition.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me, I don’t have the time to find other people to fuck. Work a lot, and I’ve got particular taste. I don’t want to worry about you fucking around either. Too much shit goes around. Eventually I’d like to ditch the condoms.” He shrugged, firmly gripping her waist to pick her up and set her on the hallway table. “It’ll be nice. You can just… Call me when you need to be fucked. I’ll call you. Scratch the itch. The rest don’t have to know a thing.”

She let out a soft sigh as he set her on the table, her arms wrapping around his neck as he towered over her. "Alright," she agreed, her heart racing at the thought of being exclusive with him. "Just you and me, no strings, no other people involved." She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "And...no labels either, right? We're just friends who fuck, nothing more."

“Right. As long as you know that cunt’s mine to fuck for now, I’m happy.” He chuckled under his breath, nudging her thighs apart. “You wore this dress for me, didn’t you?” Fingers dragged up her inner thigh as he questioned her. “Cause you wanted my attention.”

She let her legs fall open, her breath hitching as he nudged her thighs apart. Her heart fluttered at his words, her insides clenching at the possessiveness in his voice. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew she had. When the confirmation that he had been coming had been dropped in the group text, she had taken getting ready a bit more seriously. Though she hadn’t expected this to be the outcome. Not in the slightest. "Yes, it was for you," she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper as he touched her thigh. "I hoped you’d like it.” She squirmed, her legs spreading further. "Did you?

“Decided to take you home, didn’t I?” Shaking his head, he let out a sigh as he watched her squirm. “Course I fuckin’ liked it. But you’ve been taunting me, and you weren’t subtle about it either. Figured I had to ask you now.” Ghosting his fingertips along the hem of her panties, he tangled his other hand in the ends of her hair to tug her head back. “Could tell you were starting to get a little desperate.”

She moaned softly as he pulled her head back, her eyes fluttering closed briefly before locking onto his again. "Well, you were staring at me like you wanted to eat me alive," she retorted, her voice breathy. "So...yeah, maybe I was getting a little desperate." She bit her lip, shifting her hips forward. "So, are you going to touch me now?"

His touch was gentle, almost torturously so, as he ran his fingertips over the damp fabric. His eyes were locked onto hers, watching her reactions intently. "You're so eager. Though m’not so sure I like the sass. I’ll do as I like, and you can tell me how good it feels." he murmured, his thumb pressing down on her through the thin material. "I bet you're dripping, aren't you?" His touch grew firmer, ever so slowly rubbing his thumb over her clit.

Her breath hitched, her hips bucking forward to meet his touch. She hadn’t been sure how he would be in this sort of scenario, but it was better than she imagined. It took a special sort of man to make her feel even the slightest bit submissive and she almost melting. "Y-yes," she stammered, her voice slightly shaky. It was embarrassing how wet she got for him before he’d even touched her. "I'm...I'm soaking for you." Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as her head fell back against the wall.

She could feel his touch like a brand through the thin fabric, her legs spreading wider to grant him better access. Her breath came in short gasps, her chest heaving with each breath. "Please," she whimpered, her hips moving in rhythm with his touch. "It's not enough..."

“Greedy.” He laughed through his nose. “I was curious how you’d be once I got my hands on you. You talk a big game, like t’be a tease… but in reality, you’re a desperate little slut, hm?” It was the most he’s ever spoken to her, but she couldn’t complain when his words went straight to her cunt.

"I can’t help it! You started it.” She gasped as he found a rhythm, her body tensing as his fingers tugged the panties to the side, slipping under the fabric. "Oh god…” She moaned, her body tensing as his calloused fingertips grazed her bare flesh.  His words made her squirm, her body trembling as he slid a long, thick finger inside her.

“I didn’t start anything.” His voice was contained, even as he spoke with the smug little smirk on his face. “I told you, I needed t’figure you out. I hoped you’d be like this…” Looking down to where his hand was hidden between her legs, slowly pushing his finger in and out of her sopping wet cunt, he licked over his bottom lip. “Desperate. Melt at the slightest touch. You rejected everyone who came up to you at the bars when they wanted to take you home but you love t’flirt. You knew they wouldn’t be able to give you what you needed- so you waited for me to move in.”

"Mmmm…” She let out a moan as he slipped another finger inside her. "They can’t handle me. They want to try but I don’t want someone to try- I want them to do it.” she whimpered, rocking her hips into his hand. "You’re wrong, you did start it.” She gasped out, her back arching as he crooked his fingers to graze against that sweet spot inside her. "You walked in and you...you just stared at me like you owned me.”

“Because I did.” He leaned forward, letting their lips brush. “And now I do. This wet little cunt is mine to fuck for now. Got all slick before I had even laid my hands on you, fucking filthy.” He sneered. “Listen to that.” The sound of his fingers fucking into her were audible beneath her pants.

The squelching sound of his fingers pumping in and out of her quivering hole echoed through the room, a lewd melody that grew louder with each thrust. Her own wetness made his digits glisten, the sound of her coating his skin becoming embarrassingly audible. Every push into her tight hole was met with a wet slap of his palm over her clit, punctuated by her short breaths and gasps.

"It is your fault!" She hissed, her voice strained as she tried to keep quiet. "You kept staring at me like…like you wanted to devour me. It's not fair!" Her hips jerked forward as he increased the pace, her hand flying to his shoulders to steady herself. "You're gonna make me come like this." She hissed, her nails digging into his shirt.

“Then cum.” He taunted. “If it’s all my fault that your desperate pussy got all sloppy and wet, cum on my fingers and show me that then. Barely even touched you and you’re clenching all around my fingers.”

Her breath hitched, her face flushing with heat. "Oh god, shut up..." She hissed, her hips bucking against his hand as he curled his fingers inside her, getting the spot she couldn’t get on her own. "H-Harry… Fuck." She let out a high-pitched cry as she finally shattered, her inner muscles tightening around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Her body trembled as the intense pressure building inside her finally broke. Her inner walls clamped down around his fingers, squeezing them as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. The lewd sounds of his digits moving in and out of her drenched opening grew louder as she writhed against his hand, soaking his skin. Without thinking, she buried her face against his neck, muffling her whimpers as the peak of her climax washed over her.

"There y’go. Filthy girl, making a mess of my hand.” He coaxed, slowing his fingers down but rubbing right against the spongy spot in her cunt to make it last. “That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?”

"Mmm, yes." She mumbled against his neck, her breath hitching as aftershocks wracked her body. "Please...please no more..." She whimpered, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she clung to him, boneless and spent. "It's too much." Her voice was soft, vulnerable.

“I think you can take more.” He said with a laugh, but pulled his fingers out anyway. “But since m’nice, I’ll give you a second. I’ll go easy on you since it’s the first time we’re fucking, but next time m’not stopping. You’ll keep cumming.” Harry had plenty of plans for her, she had no clue how much he’d been planning on this. “C’mon.” Scooping her up easily, he had her wrap her legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders as he carried her through the house.

"You’re insufferable.” She muttered, her head nuzzling against his neck as her body trembled in the aftermath of her release. She let out a soft squeak as he easily picked her up, her face flushed as she hid it. "Where are we going?” She asked, her voice soft. "I can walk, you know...” Y/N trailed off, her face flushing. "I’m not light, either.”

“Shut the fuck up with that. M’holding you, and m’not struggling.” He grunted, giving her ass a swat as he kicked open the door to his bedroom. “Bringing you to my room. Since your cunt needs a second, figured it’s nicer on your knees if you’re kneeling on my carpet t’suck me off.” The bluntness showed its head again as he felt her pull her face from his neck. “Been thinking about you getting that lipstick you keep wearin’ all over my cock.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing darker. "Oh...” She trailed off, licking her lips unconsciously as her gaze lowered to his crotch. "You mean like this?” She asked, her voice soft and sultry as she slid down his body to land on her feet. She slowly sank to her knees, her hands resting on his thighs. "Maybe I will, maybe I won’t..."

“I think you will. You’ve been gagging for it.” His hands grabbed the buckle of his belt as she looked up at him on her knees, the picture absolutely perfect. “You look awfully good there. Think you were made to be on your knees for me.” Depositing the leather onto the floor, he reached for her face and let his thumb smear her cherry red lipstick. “Go on. Undo my trousers, take my cock out. Know it’s what y’want. Don’t have to play coy with me.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as he smeared her lipstick, her tongue darting out to lick at her lips. "Mmm, you think so?” She cooed, her hands moving to his fly. She deftly undid the button and zipper, her slender fingers pushing the fabric down his hips. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the bulge in his boxers, her voice low. "Maybe…” Her breath hitched as she felt the warmth of his body through the fabric. "Maybe I'll take your cock out and give it a little kiss first," she whispered, her hands gripping the elastic waistband, slowly pulling them down to help his cock out.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips once more. His cock was thick, the head flushed a ruddy red. Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, feeling the heat radiating from him. "So big and hard for me." she purred, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. Brushing her tongue around the sensitive tip, she smeared the precum that had leaked out. Looking up at him, she felt the thrill in her stomach as his eyes darkened with lust as he watched her. She opened her mouth, slowly lathing her tongue lick up and down his shaft from base to tip.

“There y’go.” He breathed, gathering her hair in a loose excuse for a ponytail. The red had transferred some to his cock and he loved the vision. He’d thought about it more times than he could count. “One day, think I should film this. Let you see how pretty you look on your knees.” He murmured, watching as her tongue ran back over the slit. “Get it wet.”

Humming in approval at his words, her tongue continuing to lap at his length, eyes fluttered closed as she felt his hand tighten in her hair. “I would like that.” Continuing to lick him, her tongue traced the ridges and veins of his cock before she looked up at him, wrapping her lips around the tip.

“Good.” He grunted as he felt the plushness of her lips take the head of him into her mouth, the slow pull of the suction. “Take a little more. Know you’ve been thinking about sucking this cock. Show me.”

As he spoke, she listened, taking more of him into her mouth. Unfortunately, she was not as immune to him as she had tried to be. It seemed she had met her match, wanting to please him in ways she usually scoffed at with any other man. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as she bobbed her head up and down, doing the work she needed to make him pleased. Her hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with her mouth as she looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, her throat working around his thickness.

“Oh, fuck.” He laughed deeply, head tilting back as she showed him what he had asked for. “Thatta’ girl. Knew you had it in you. Shit.” He cursed under his breath as the heat of her mouth welcomed him, taking him much better than he had anticipated.

She could feel his hands in her hair, guiding her pace, making sure she was taking him just right. The salty taste of his precum mixed with the musky scent of his arousal was intoxicating, making her head spin. She looked up at him, her lips stretched around his girth, and saw the raw desire in his eyes. It only fueled her own hunger, making her suck him even harder, desperate to please him.

Y/N moaned around his cock as he bottomed out in her throat, the vibrations traveling up his shaft. Her nose pressed against his pelvis as she swallowed around him, her throat constricting to make him hiss. She held herself there, savoring the feeling of being so completely filled by him before slowly pulling back to catch her breath. Strings of saliva connected her lips to his spit-shined cock.

His face contorted with pleasure as she deep-throated him, a guttural groan escaping his lips. "God, you're so good at that." Harry praised, his hands fisting her hair tighter. His hips bucked forward, meeting her bobbing head, the wet sounds of her mouth filling the room. His breathing grew heavier, chests heaving as he struggled to maintain control. "You’re gonna be a lot of fun to fuck, aren’t you?”

“Mhm.” With a messy pop, she pulled his cock out of her mouth, saliva dripping from his glistening tip. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with lust, before leaning forward and spitting directly onto his cock. The mess hit him dripping over the side, making him hiss in surprise. Rubbing her saliva into his cock, she coated him in it as she smirked up. Getting him to react was a reward. He had barely said anything to anyone, and she was the one getting him to groan and hiss. Sue her for feeling a little special. “Think it’s wet enough?” She purred, coy as she looked at him through his lashes.

Before she could say another word, Harry grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, his mouth crashing against hers in a searing kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips, making her moan in surprise. Was he good at everything? She could taste herself on him, the salty sweetness of her saliva mixing with the heat of his own mouth. Biting down on her lower lip, he pulled it gently between his teeth before letting go.

 "You talk too much."

Her breath hitched as he spoke against her mouth, his voice low and commanding. She could only manage a whimper in response, her knees growing weak. He took advantage of her parted lips and weakened stance, slipping his hands around to squeeze her ass, pulling her flush against him so she could feel him against her tummy. "But you're right," he murmured, voice roughened by desire. "You've made quite a mess. Think you’re ready to take my cock?"

She nodded eagerly, her eyes locked onto his intense gaze. "Then turn around and bend over the bed," he ordered, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. She quickly complied, feeling a rush of cool air against her bare backside as she leaned forward, gripping the bed sheets tightly. 

As she leaned her chest further into the bed, she felt the soft fabric of the comforter against her breasts, her hard nipples grazing against it. Every sensation felt a little overwhelming, but in a good way. It had been a long time coming considering how she had tried to navigate how to work up how to simply talk to Harry, and now he was her supposed friends with benefits. Patience was wearing thin.  Swaying her ass enticingly, wanting to give him a good show- make him break. The room was filled with the sound of her shallow breathing, her chest heaving as she tried to regulate her breathing. Behind her, she could hear the crinkle of plastic as he sheathed himself in a condom.

She could imagine how Harry must look right now, his dark eyes fixed on her ass as he prepared himself. The thought sent her reeling. If only she had eyes on the back of her head. Feeling him step close, his body heat radiating off of himself and into her bare skin, she lifted her hips slightly, trying to guide his cock to press against her soaked entrance.

Harry's strong hands gripped her hips firmly, guiding her movements and controlling the pace. control- he was exercising the control that she clearly did not have. She felt the tip of his prick slowly push against her, inch by agonizing inch. Gasping, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets as she stretched to accommodate his size. The sensation was intense, bordering on overwhelming, but she welcomed it nonetheless, pushing back against him to encourage him to continue. "Oh, fucks sake.” She sulked into the mattress.

,"It’s not fair. You can’t.. You’re not supposed t’have such a big dick when you act like one.”  Her words came out in a string of stuttered moans as he seated himself fully inside her, his hips flush against her ass. He gave a low, satisfied chuckle, his body tensing as he held himself deep inside her.  She felt her insides clench around him, her body instinctively trying to adjust to his size. “Oh, no? You don’t like it?”

She shook her head vehemently, biting her lip as she felt him throb inside her. "N-no, I love it. I fucking love it." She admitted breathlessly, her voice thick with need. "It's just not...fair that you get to have such a perfect cock and you waited so long to give it to me." She punctuated her words with a roll of her hips, relishing the drag of his thick length against her walls.

Her insides felt like a silken vice around him, pulsating rhythmically as if trying to milk him despite him not being inside her long enough to do so.  Her body was already betraying her as her walls quivered around him, her inner muscles fluttering as if trying to entice him to move, to draw him in deeper. Her body was warm, and she was tight, gripping him as if she hadn’t been with anyone in years.

A smug grin spread across his face as he let out a low, satisfied groan from deep within his chest. “Well, m’sorry, babe. Had t’make sure you’d be a good fit for my cock. I think I made the right call, though. Tight little thing, squeezing me the way I like.” He taunted, his voice laced with amusement. His hands tightened on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he slowly began to move within her. "You like how I fill you up?" He punctuated his words with slow, measured thrusts, his voice growing hoarser as she clenched around him.

When she struggled to answer, he let out a laugh instead. He continued to speak for her, his voice a low, husky rumble as he slowly pumped into her. "Yeah, y’like being stuffed full of my cock. Like how it stretches you open and makes you feel so fucking small." He teased, his fingers digging into her hips as he picked up his pace slightly. "Barely able to talk back to me when I know you love to run that filthy mouth. Must be because you’re not used to being filled like this.”

She mewled, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. He was right. Embarrassingly so. The wet squelch of his cock plunging in and out of her filled the room, mixing with the erotic symphony of their moans and groans. He could feel her getting more slick, her arousal coating his shaft and dripping down onto his balls. "That's it, take it deep like that. You like to play tough, but you just want t’be a good girl for me. Isn’t that right?"

Her response was a strangled cry, her pussy fluttering around him as if to agree. He grunted in approval, his hips snapping forward to fill her again. "Good girl," he praised darkly. "You're doing so well. Such a good little thing, taking me so well. Now answer me.” The croon was soft, a direct opposite to his pace. “Gonna let me fuck you when I want, mm? Gonna call me when y’need it too?”

She keened, her voice echoing in the room. "Y-Yes please... I- I'll call you. I'll be good. I'll... I'll let you. I'll let you whenever you want!" Her words came out disjointed, broken up by his thrusts growing a bit harder, jostling her where she laid. Her hands fisted the sheets beneath her, her knuckles turning white as she tried to keep herself grounded.

"That’s a good fuckin’ girl. You're gonna be so well-behaved for me, aren't you?" He cooed, his voice a soothing contrast to the growing brutal pace of his hips. One hand slid up her back, pressing between her shoulder blades to keep her arched as he took his pleasure from her. "You're mine t’play with now, understand? This pretty little cunt belongs to me." As he continued to pound into her, she felt a sense of contentment wash over her. This was exactly what she needed - someone to take control, to make her feel desired and owned. And Harry was perfect for the job. They were going to be lovely friends, with many benefits. As she teetered on the edge of her climax, she felt a sense of peace settle over her, knowing that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes — 29. sweet dreams (half-written)

your roommate yujin is back home during winter break, so when you return to your shared dorm it's just you and silence. a soft sigh leaves your lips as you set your things down before heading to the bathroom to unwind and change into something comfier.

before you do so, you make sure to send a text to hanni, keeping a mental note to check your notifications after.

(as if you don't already wait eagerly for her texts.)

when you're done, you're met with a lovely notification from hanni that says 'i can call when you can :)' and smile at the screen.

almost without thinking, you quickly check how you look in the mirror. your hair is still a little damp, which stains the gray t-shirt you have on just a bit. you run a hand through your hair before sitting on your bed comfortably. you press the 'facetime' icon, though not without hesitating a bit.

the ringtone echoes through your room as you lean back against your bedframe, with your blanket covering you perfectly. you decide to grab the guitar sitting beside your bed while you wait, setting it beside you on the mattress. you did have some ideas for a song earlier.

you glance at the screen, waiting for hanni to pick up. the anticipation makes you all giddy.

when the call finally connects, the first thing you see is her forehead filling up half of the screen.

you chuckle. "...hello?"

"oh, hang on," she mutters, adjusting the camera until her whole face comes into view. she's in a t-shirt as well, her hair slightly tousled before, and she offers a sheepish grin. "hi."

"hey," you reply, smiling at the screen. "nice view of your forehead earlier, by the way."

she rolls her eyes but smiles anyway, settling into her bed. "i was getting comfortable, okay? not everyone can be ready for a close-up 24/7."

"you're an idol, though," you tease, setting your phone down and grabbing your guitar. "isn't that like, in the job description?"

"funny." she says flatly, though there's a hint of amusement in her tone.

she watches you strum lazily, only the neck of your guitar, your fingers, and your face in view as the sound fills the call. you pluck at the strings idly, creating random chords and humming softly to a tune that you made up earlier in the day.

the conversation drifts easily—catching up about your week, her recounting an interview she did earlier in the day, and how they recorded a 'jeans zine.'

"it's always a bit hectic," she admits, tucking her knees up to her chest. "but fun. i think this one's going to be really cute, it's a special for new years."

"i'll make sure to watch it. i watched your christmas one not too long ago, very cute." you say absentmindedly, still experimenting with a melody. "and your interview?"

"oh, the usual. promotions with 'ditto' and 'omg,' inspirations, what we've been up to. sometimes it's weird to me, like, talking about my life like it's newsworthy."

"it is," you tease lightly. "you're an idol, remember? and just you as a person, you're really interesting."

"right," she laughs softly. "anyway, how was your week?"

"ah, i just spent most of it with a friend from home. but it's been hectic too." you reply, "with yunjin's song out, me being on the credits, and her like—soft launching me? i've gotten a lot of attention and more support. it's really cool, but there's so much going on, especially on twitter, tiktok, and instagram."

"that's funny. i'm glad you're getting recognition, you deserve it."

"aw, thank you hanni."

there's a lull, but it's comfortable. hanni watches you as you hum a tune under your breath, occasionally pausing to scribble something in a notebook beside you.

"do you always multitask like this?" she asks, resting her cheek on her knee.

"too often," you admit, glancing at her through the screen. "am i boring you? maybe you should sleep, i don't want to keep you up like this."

"no, no. it's fine, i don't mind at all." she says quickly, almost too quickly, and you swear you catch the faintest blush creeping up her cheeks. it could also be the light, though. "it's... relaxing, actually. i really like this."

you don't respond, instead, you opt for a simple grin. you keep playing, trying to focus on the chords and not the way her gaze lingers on you.

"hey... y/n?" hanni says after a while, earning your attention.

"yeah?"

"we're still on for wednesday, right?"

"of course."

"right, just making sure." hanni mutters, shifting herself so she can lay down on the bed comfortably. there's a small, content grin resting on her lips.

conversation slows, her responses become softer, and you've found a little scrap of a song throughout the call. there's a stretch of silence when you run the song back, humming a melody and singing whatever lyrics come to your mind.

you glance back at your phone minutes later to see that hanni's out. her eyes are closed and her head rests against her arm.

"hanni?" you whisper, but there's no response. she's asleep, her soft breaths barely heard through the phone. you try again once more, whispering another, "hanni?" but she doesn't stir.

you smile to yourself. "goodnight hanni," you say softly, letting her sleep as you continue to strum quietly, filling the silence with your voice.

it's odd, you think. you've known hanni for a short amount of time, yet even after a few hours during the late hours at night and a few texts—something about your friendship seems right.

hanni being an addition to your life seems perfect.

—

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[randombush3]

after they got together, what is fleur and alexia’s biggest fight and how do they resolve it? give me some headcannons please I miss then🥺

ok so this is ALL @p0orbaby because she's so lovely

but here we have Alexia and Fleur in the period where Fleur hasn't renewed her Barça contract:

“I can’t believe you’re even considering this.” Alexia’s voice is sharp, cutting through the quiet of our apartment like a blade. She isn’t just upset – she is angry. 

I cross my arms, leaning back against the counter, trying to keep my own temper in check. “It’s Ajax, Alexia. My dream club. You know that.” 

Her laugh is bitter, almost mocking. “Your dream club? You’re already at the best club in the world, Fleur. You think Ajax can offer you anything Barça can’t?” 

Blood rushes to my face, my frustration evident. “This isn’t about what Ajax can offer. This is about what it means. I grew up watching them, dreaming about wearing that jersey. You wouldn’t understand because you’ve never wanted anything outside of this city!” 

Her eyes narrow, and she steps closer, her voice rising. “You’re right. I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you can talk about leaving so casually, like it’s nothing. Like Barça is just some stepping stone for you to move on from when you’re bored.” 

“Bored?” I spit, anger flaring hot and fast. “Don’t you dare twist this into something it’s not. I’ve given everything to this team–” 

“And now you’re ready to walk away,” she interrupts, her tone icy. “Just like that. What about us, Fleur? Or does that not mean anything to you, either?” 

I can feel my chest tightening, her words slicing into me, but I am not going to back down. “Don’t put this on me. This is my life, my career. You don’t get to make me feel guilty for wanting something different!”

“Different?” she shoots back, her voice dripping with disbelief. “You mean selfish. That’s what this is – pure selfishness.” 

That hits a nerve, and before I can stop myself, I fire back, “at least I’m honest about what I want, Alexia. I’m not the one who thinks the world revolves around Barça and expects everyone else to fall in line!” 

The silence that follows is deafening, our harsh breaths the only sound in the room. Her jaw clenches, her eyes burning with something between fury and disbelief. 

“Maybe you should go, then,” she finally says, her voice low and venomous. “If Ajax is so important to you, don’t let me or Barça hold you back.” 

The words sting, but I refuse to let her see it. “Maybe I will,” I say, my voice cold as steel. 

She doesn’t say anything else. Just turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, shaking with anger and something I can’t quite name. 

And now I’m alone, staring at the door she walked through, hoping she will come back.

Don't worry! Remember, they get engaged during the long distance period x

[amorchai]

𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑.

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original post was 863 notes.

pairing(s): tasm!peter parker x reader

words: 902

warnings/tags: high school sweetheart vibes, dares.

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“we’re helping you out,” is what your friends had said, a bored lunch game of truth and dare took a step too far, at the expense of you and your crush. lunch was nearing an end, the bell soon to ring and dignify the start of classes, or as you knew peter had, a free period.

you had spent too much time stalling. ever since they had dared you to kiss him you sat in your seat in the cafeteria, staring at the poor boy whose head was too stuck in his book and drinking the strawberry milk from the small carton to even notice.

you had met him on the first day of middle school and ended up in the same high school, your long-term crush. it felt like a book in itself, getting to go to the same school as the boy you fell for, but beside the small talk and smiles in the hall, you were too shy to do anything.

“he’s getting up, you need to do it now.” you cover your eyes while shaking your head, turning away as he picks his head up to stuff his book back in his bag and politely clear up the table, sending the dinner lady a quick wave.

“i can’t, he’ll think i’m crazy,” you state, whisper-shouting beneath your hands. one of your friends grip your forearm with a shake to pull your hold away, “i’m so sure he likes you too,” you tut in disapproval while sitting back.

you lock eyes with him, he’s swinging his bag over his shoulder and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. peter smiles as he passes, a nice nod sent in your direction which is already enough to make you weak in the knees.

“i can’t kiss him in front of the school,” you say after he passes. your friends groan in disagreement, guiding you off the seat and ushering your bag over your shoulder as they force you out the dinner hall and through the corridors leading to peter’s locker.

by the time you make it there, he’s punching in his numbers to open the door, swinging it to reveal the little movie stumps and band stickers across the inside. with another push, your friends nudge you forward, hiding behind the corner wall to peek over as you finally walk towards him.

you feel speechless, knowing what you’re about to do, and instead of talking, you anxiously tap his shoulder while he moves textbooks from his bag and into the locker. collecting his skateboard from inside, his curious glance turns into a soft smile when he notices you. 

“oh hey, y/n. what’s up?” peter asks, turning his body to face you while slamming his locker shut. instead of replying, with the last smidgen of confidence slowly fizzling, you hold onto the scruff of his jacket while leaning up to kiss him.

as you push into him, the nervous movement of your lips faltering against peter’s, his back is pressed against the locker while his widened eyes quickly close to the feeling. you hear the sound of his skateboard hit the floor beneath you before his hands cup your face, his lips responding against yours.

his skateboard could be rolling away now, but peter doesn’t care as he revels in the feeling of your lips against his. turning into a needy makeout, unable to tear away from each other, if peter didn’t have a hold of your face, you were sure you would be falling to the ground.

you don’t know how long it goes on for, time stopping for a moment from the intensity of a spark between you both through the kiss. but the screeching sound of the bell causes you to pull back, lifting your eyelids to see a flushed peter who keeps his eyes shut for a moment longer.

but once they do, his brown eyes gazing into yours, you feel the embarrassment course through you. people start to flood the halls, your bodies moving so your still questionably close and his arms fall to his side after a squeeze to your jaw.

“you don’t know how many times i’ve actually dreamed of that,” peter admits lowly to you, awaiting the giggle from your lips before chuckling fondly himself. your head falls into his chest in a means to hide your face, his body vibrating in laughter lost in the chatter of students around.

“i’ve never seen you so bold before,” peter continues, into your ear as a means of teasing you further. therefore, you pull away with a guilty expression looking back at hm, “my friends made me do it, because i’ve always had this massive crush on you.”

you fail to notice the prideful glint in peter’s eyes at the mention of being your crush, something he’s willing to discuss later, on a date perhaps. “well, let’s keep giving them what they want, yeah?” peter murmurs quietly, a small ‘hmm?’ emitting from your throat which is broken when peter’s fingers force your chin to face him once again. this time your shocked at the feeling of peter’s lips against yours, a quick kiss settled to your mouth. much smaller due to the crowd of people walking past, but enough for your eyes to follow peter’s frame as he walks away with a wink, leaning down for his skateboard while promising to discuss it later.

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amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[myokk]

remembering the snow

pairing: Imelda Reyes x Poppy Sweeting

word count: 3,2k

summary:

Imelda remembers the first time she saw snow.

Her parents always started the story telling her that she cried and cried and cried.

***

Or: a character study on Imelda and how she grew up because I love her & she doesn't get enough appreciation :)

cw: none, this is just a love letter to Imelda

a/n: or: this was the first oneshot I ever wrote, and it holds such a special place in my heart. I think it might be my favorite 🥹🫶

Imelda Reyes has never been one to do things by halves.

Her mother always talked about the circumstances of her birth with pride: Imelda came quickly as if she were eager to get out and see the world already, screaming even before she had fully left her mother's womb, determined to leave an indelible mark on the world.

The women in their village who had assisted the birth crossed themselves, chattering to each other in quick, soft, beautiful Spanish staccato about the baby who was already unlike any they had ever seen before. Strong and healthy and beautiful, her deep brown eyes already taking in her surroundings and watching them solemnly moments after her arrival.

Her father always talked about the circumstances of her childhood: running wild and free, flying before she could walk (a source of great pride), his little shadow who peppered him with endless questions about the world. He always brought her along to his work meetings much to everyone's delight; she was with him when he was offered the enviable position of Spanish Diplomat to the British Ministry of Magic.

At the age of five, they left the beautiful sleepy village where time hadn't seemed to exist. Imelda still dreams of long, hot, dusty days playing under the shade of orange trees, going to the market every two days with her mother draped in their finest silks, sleeping and lying around during the hottest part of the day, only leaving their house once the sun left its highest point and was about to disappear behind the mountains.

The older women in the village doted on her. If she thinks hard, she can recall their beautiful, wavering voices calling out to her as she raced past them: 'ten cuidado, cariño, te vas a mancar', 'ven aquí, cielo, te quiero ver la cara tan bonita', 'mira cómo se está creciendo, se nota que va a ser una belleza de mayor'...voices filled with comfort and love. She never knew anything different then.

She's their only child. Her mother was always brushing her hair and humming, trying to get her to sit still and listen to her endless fairy tales as the sun bore down on them; her father, treating Imelda like the son he had always wished for but accepting and loving her all the same. Sometimes, her mother would let her out of the house before the sun became too strong and they would fly around the mountains and be free free free.

Arriving to Edinburgh at the age of five, Imelda hadn't even realized she didn't speak the same language as the other children around her. As with everything else, she jumped in headfirst. Her mother always jokes that she became fluent in English the second she stepped foot on Scottish soil. To Imelda, it does seem that way. She can't ever remember not speaking in the soft Scottish burr, reminiscent of the soft Spanish she had left behind and still spoke at home.

As a child, she never had problems forging relationships with whoever was around her. She was brash and inquisitive and irresistible, taking charge wherever she went. The other children flocked around her, hanging on to her every word.

It changed, though, when her mother got her cough. It started out harmless enough, a slight cough and headache before bed each night. When her mother woke up every morning, she would be fine. But going to bed early changed to going to bed even earlier and earlier until it was time to accept what the three of them were steadfastly ignoring: she was getting worse.

Imelda was nine. She remembers her mother drying her tears with gentle, soft hands, caressing her cheeks and whispering to her that it would be fine. That she wasn't gone yet: they still had time.

'No pasa nada, mi amor. Siempre estaré contigo.'

At Hogwarts, things changed even more. She was a Slytherin and proud of it, but she never quite fit in with her classmates. She wasn't one of them, hadn't grown up with them, and they made sure she knew it. Gone were the days of running wild: she turned her single-minded determination to her studies and quidditch and found herself excelling at everything she put her mind to. It all came easily to her and she had no time for anyone who could distract her.

She wasn't a complete loner. She had her quidditch teammates, her partners in various classes, but nobody she hung out with outside of classes. She always studied alone, learned alone, trained alone.

(Of course, the picture she paints to her father in owls home is much different. He has enough on his mind - a daughter struggling to make friends is a non-issue as far as Imelda is concerned. And besides: she's fine.)

Imelda was quite content with the way things were working out for her. She would never admit if she was lonely or not, and enjoyed every part of her life. Until her fifth year, when everything began to change. Gone were her rigid schedules and studying alone and discipline. A new girl was sorted into Slytherin and Imelda found she didn't hate the girl's company. The two of them laugh together at night while they braid each others' hair, Imelda teaches her Spanish, and they have started to study together.

The new student drags her around Hogwarts and Imelda finds herself actually enjoying herself and enjoying spending time with the classmates she’s spent so many years ignoring.

This is when she meets Poppy Sweeting.

Well...Poppy swears that they met ages ago, during their first year when they were partnered together in Potions. Imelda has no recollection - that whole year was a blur - it was the year her mother succumbed to her illness - so she has to take Poppy's word for it.

She finds herself with friends for the first time in a long time. But, when the new student is running off with Sebastian doing Merlin-knows-what, things that Imelda definitely does not want to be a part of, she still finds herself seeking Poppy's company.

Poppy is sweet and fun and introverted in a way that Imelda finds familiar and comfortable: whereas Imelda turns to her studies and quidditch, Poppy often opts to spend time more time with beasts than humans. But there's something endearing about her earnestness and Imelda starts to find herself craving Poppy's calm company.

She always knows what to say when Imelda finds herself getting worked up over nothing.

On the train home for the winter holidays, as Imelda is striding down the long corridor in search of an empty cabin where she can read and concoct fail-proof quidditch tactics, Poppy calls her over to her carriage and asks Imelda to keep her company. She only needs to ask once. There's an unfamiliar fluttering in Imelda's stomach as she sits across from Poppy and the other girl beams at her but it's...well. It's not altogether unpleasant. They play exploding snap and exchange book recommendations and laugh together and...well, if Imelda's knee brushes against Poppy's occasionally or their fingers linger as they exchange essays to look over...

She can't be blamed, can she?

A letter from Poppy arrives over the break. At the sight of Poppy's small brown owl tapping the window with the letter in its beak, Imelda's heart starts racing and she runs over to the bird, grinning like a fool, but she pauses before opening it. Her fingers tremble as they hover over the wax seal.

Imelda's father is largely absent these days, a shadow of the man she had grown up with. She's noticed the difference over the summer too, of course, but the winter always feels different. More desolate; more harsh. They're nearing the four-year anniversary of her mother's death. It's impossible to ignore the fact that losing his wife has damaged his soul irreparably, and Imelda's seeing first-hand what being deeply in love can do to a person.

Maybe she'll put the letter aside and read it tomorrow.

Tomorrow bleeds into the next day turns into one week and before she can blink the bleak winter vacation with her father has ended and she's heading back to Hogwarts.

On the train, she walks past Poppy: the two of them make eye contact but Poppy flushes and looks out the window, tucking her honey-colored hair behind her ear and Imelda moves on to the next empty carriage. She pulls out some parchment and works on revising her Charms essay. It's for the best, anyway, she tells herself. For the best that she doesn't have any distractions. Their O.W.L.s are coming up and she's determined to get an O in every subject.

The month of January goes by in a flash. Between the insane quidditch schedule she's concocted for her team and the study sessions in the library, she keeps herself busy. The new fifth-year, her first real friend, starts to show concern for Imelda, gently trying to ask her what's going on as they braid each others' hair before bed.

Imelda doesn't want to bother her, though.

(She doesn't truly know what's the matter, anyways.)

She resolves to do a better job with keeping her emotions in check - her friend has enough on her plate, and Imelda doesn't want her to have to worry over something that's not even a problem in the first place.

She's fine.

Out of the corner of her eye in the classes she shares with Poppy, Imelda notices that she doesn't look as happy as she normally does. Her face is more pale and withdrawn; whenever Imelda's eyes flicker to her, her own gaze darts away.

With the beginning of February come a lot of blizzards, and they make Imelda remember the first time she saw snow.

Her parents always started the story telling her that she cried and cried and cried.

They had both run over to her, covering her with warm hugs and kisses, the tiny family huddled together in this foreign place where the people looked and spoke differently, where nothing was the same and she missed the old women who would give her mazapanes whenever she ran by, missed the tiny clouds of dust that would puff up as she ran and the hazy mountains in the distance and the hot, hot sun beating down while she played in the shade of the orange trees while her mother slept away the heat. Pulling her mittened hands off of her tear-stained face and telling her 'mira cariño, mira qué bonita es la nieve. Tócala, ya verás que no pasa nada...estamos aquí contigo...'

Her tears had soon dried and she was laughing and playing in the snow and she couldn't even remember what had made her so sad in the first place.

Imelda's sad now as she stares out the window.

Her mother isn't there anymore. She has no one to turn to in this self-imposed exile.

Four years ago today.

She's hidden herself away in an alcove, curled up, arms wrapped around her knees watching the snow swirling out the window. She canceled quidditch practice today due to the storm, much to everyone's surprise. Just last week, she had forced them to train in the freezing rain and today's snowfall is mild in comparison. But...today she doesn't have the energy. She's spent so much effort pretending that everything's fine when it's not and now she's sad and alone and confused.

She doesn't hear Poppy when she comes near.

The other girl crowds into Imelda's space, pressing against her in the alcove. The two face each other, and Poppy brings a gentle hand up to Imelda's face to brush away tears she hadn't even realized were falling.

"What -" Imelda starts saying, but a fresh sob chokes her and she can't. Poppy leans forward and wraps her arms around Imelda, pulling her into a close embrace. Imelda feels everything crumbling around her and she sobs into Poppy's shoulder - Poppy whispering reassurances and smoothing her hair, cradling Imelda as she cries and cries and cries.

They don't leave the alcove for another hour, almost staying out after curfew.

Imelda is subdued the next few days. The snow continues to fall until the whole castle looks like it's straight from one of the fairy tales her mother used to tell her as she brushed her hair. Imelda shows up for meals, shows up for classes, shows up in the study group, but she feels like she's just going through the motions.

She can tell her friend is getting worried, but Imelda can't confide in her. Her friend does small gestures anyways because she understands: saving Imelda a seat in class, asking her about quidditch, saving her favorite muffins for her at breakfast.

Maybe she talked to Sebastian about her worry because even he is being nicer than normal to Imelda, asking her if she wants to play wizarding chess with the two of them. Imelda doesn't really understand how or why they like playing the game so much - her friend is awful at it and Sebastian seems to enjoy the destruction and chaos more than actually strategizing. Even though Imelda hates the game - every move is painfully obvious and she can't understand how nobody else sees it like she does - maybe it would be nice to do something different.

Imelda freezes when they enter the Astronomy Tower to play: Poppy is there, waiting. For her. They haven't seen each other since she broke down humiliated and sobbing and she doesn't know what to do.

Sebastian looks between the two of them, brows furrowed, then leans down to their friend and whispers something in her ear. She nods and the two of them disappear, leaving Imelda and Poppy alone.

Poppy stands and Imelda can feel her heart start to hammer against her throat. Poppy walks forward slowly, only stopping when she's right in front of Imelda. When she speaks, her voice is high and sweet and Imelda realizes how much she missed her. "I-I'm sorry, I just didn't know how else I could talk to you. Will you come with me? I have something to show you."

Imelda nods mutely and Poppy takes her hand. They lace their fingers together and it's the first time - apart from a few days ago - that they have voluntarily touched each other. She feels Poppy's fingers tighten around hers and Imelda focuses on the feeling of soft knuckles under her thumb, but now...she's self-conscious for the first time about her quidditch-rough hands and maybe she should have listened to her friend when she tried to encourage Imelda to use some hand lotion.

Maybe Poppy will let go of her hand and leave in disgust.

But...Poppy doesn't do any of that. Every so often, she looks up at Imelda, smiling slightly. When they reach the Entrance Hall, she lets go of Imelda's hand and Imelda feels its loss with a pang.

Poppy opens the bag at her side and pulls out two huge yellow and black Hufflepuff scarves. As she's reaching up to wrap one around Imelda, she whispers: "sorry, I only have these. But yellow looks good on you."

Both of them flush and smile at each other and Imelda doesn't know how long they stand before Poppy grabs her hand again, making sure their fingers are laced, and then they are heading out.

Poppy looks more and more excited the closer they get to the Forbidden Forest, but Imelda's never set foot even remotely close to the forest, and she feels quite apprehensive at first. But, Poppy's excitement is exhilarating - Imelda can feel it rolling off of her in waves and despite herself, she begins to feel excited too. They still haven't spoken since leaving Hogwarts, but it's a comfortable silence. Imelda's glad for the scarf - their breath is puffing out in soft clouds as they breathe and it's quite cold - the freezing temperatures in Scottish winters are still something she's never quite gotten used to.

Their boots crunch through the snow-filled landscape - it's nearing dusk and the sky is turning a brilliant shade of orange and pink, but it gets obscured by the tree branches the further into the Forbidden Forest they venture, the golden light only showing in bursts now.

"Almost there," Poppy says breathlessly. She beams up at Imelda, whose breath catches at the sight, before turning back and pulling her faster and faster until they stop in a clearing. They've stopped in the middle, and Imelda looks around.

Here, they can actually see the sky and it is breathtaking in its beauty - the gnarled, naked trees around them twisting and reaching up as if they could try and grasp some of the beauty for themselves. The snow is perfectly smooth and untouched except for the footprints that the two of them have just left. Apart from that, the clearing is nondescript.

This is what Poppy had been so excited to show her?

Poppy gives no explanation for why she brought Imelda to the Forbidden Forest, but she's almost quivering in excitement - Imelda can feel the tension in the hand that's clutching hers tightly. The sun sets lower and lower, the two of them watching it as the colors around them start to fade and mute and then -

Poppy gasps in delight.

There -

A small, dancing, brilliant white light sparks to their left and disappears just as quickly.

"Look," Poppy whispers. Imelda glances over to her - she can barely make out her face in the dimming light, but Poppy seems to be glowing with happiness.

There - again -

More and more of the brilliant white lights appear, glowing and flickering on and off, and moving in almost a pattern, dancing around their heads. Imelda laughs as she watches the tiny creatures fly around them. It's magical and beautiful and -

"I found the snow sprite nest a few weeks ago, when the blizzards started, and I've been observing them since then. I...I wanted to show you and tell you about them the second I found out because I haven't stopped thinking about you but after...well, you know...I just wanted to cheer you up..."

Poppy trails off, looking uncertain when Imelda doesn't say anything in response.

She can't, even though she desperately wants to. Her mouth goes dry as she looks to the girl at her side, who has done all of this, for her.

Poppy looks impossibly lovely in the glow of the snow sprites, as they dance and spark around their heads in a beautiful waving pattern and Imelda doesn't even think as her hand goes to Poppy's cheek. Poppy stops rambling as she looks up into Imelda's eyes.

Then, before she can lose her nerve, Imelda leans forward and presses her lips to Poppy's. It's only the lightest of touches, but her heart is beating so quickly and Merlin, she can't believe she just did that. She quickly retreats, face flaming, but before she can get away Poppy reaches up to cup Imelda's cheeks with both hands and she pulls her forward, her mouth greedy, desperate, as they finally kiss.

When they finally pull away, breathing heavily as their foreheads rest against each other, Imelda can't help the huge smile that's threatening to split her face open. It mirrors the expression she sees on Poppy, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed and she is just so lovely that Imelda can't help but lean forward and capture her mouth again. Their lips mold to each other and it's the culmination of all of their stolen glances, touches, secret wishes.

Imelda Reyes has never been one to do things by halves, after all .

A HUGE thank you to @dom1re and @thingsmaygetalittlecrazy for reading this oneshot recently and leaving me such amazing comments on ao3😭♥️♥️♥️ they made me reread this oneshot & I remembered how much I love it🫶

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Dreams Don't Lie

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 10)

A Levi x reader fanfic

Crossposted from AO3

It all started with a silly dream. How could it get this out of control?

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 4.1k)

(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

"I know your deepest, darkest secret."

You spun around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice which had suddenly spoken behind you. But all you found was a cat lounging in the doorway, looking up at you with a sullenly bored expression.

"Nice try. But I don't have any," you replied, slightly bemused. It was true – there was no point in having secrets when you sucked at keeping them.

The cat's tail twitched impatiently. "Oh, but you do. It is a secret so clandestine, so private, that not even you know about it."

"A secret that I don't know about? And what would that be?" You challenged, your tone skeptical. It didn't even make any sense.

The cat took its sweet time before answering, thoroughly licking its paw as if to savor the moment. Then it locked eyes with you. "There's something you love more than tea."

You gasped, horrified. "Take that back!"

"Why should I? You know it's true." The cat looked thoroughly unimpressed by the accusing finger you had jabbed in its direction. "As a matter of fact, it's been true for a while now."

You frantically shook your head, trying to erase the words from your mind. But they kept replaying, growing louder and louder each time, until they melded together in a deafening choir, all chanting the same few words: "There's something you love more than tea."

With a start, you jolted awake, bathed in cold sweat. A wave of relief washed over you when you realized you were safely tucked in your bed, and it had all been nothing more than a stupid dream. You shook your head again. "How absurd," you mumbled. How absolutely, completely, utterly ridiculous. Tea had been there for you when no one else had. It had gotten you through your darkest hours. How could anything possibly hold a candle to that?

But a little bit of doubt remained, gnawing at you. After all, dreams were the royal road to the unconscious, and all that. Maybe your subconscious was trying to tell you something. But what? That you were secretly a coffee person? You shuddered at the thought. How blasphemous.

It was probably just a dream. Still, you were too shaken to fall back asleep, so you got up to brew yourself a nice, hot cup of tea.

When you came back in, your roommates were already awake, getting dressed and ready for the day.

"How come you're up so early?" Nanaba asked in astonishment. You usually slept right through the early morning hustle and bustle, only getting up at the last possible minute.

"It's nothing. Just a bad dream," you replied offhandedly and settled back down on the lower bunk of the bunk bed you shared with Nifa, cradling the steaming cup of tea in your hands.

"Oh yeah? What was it about?" Nanaba inquired.

You sighed. "I don't really know. It was all pretty confusing."

Nanaba gave a brief nod, sensing you weren't too eager to talk about it. She slipped on her uniform jacket and headed for the door.

Without thinking, you blurted out, "What do you love the most?"

Nanaba stopped with her hand on the door handle. She turned around, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I–" she began, but Lynne was faster.

"Mike, of course," she snickered.

Nanaba shot her a dirty look, but then begrudgingly conceded, "…You're probably right about that."

"Ha! I know you so well. I may not understand your infatuation with that glorified sniffer dog, but I sure know you."

Nanaba just rolled her eyes at Lynne's playful jab.

"What were you going to say?" You asked Nanaba, still curious.

"Honestly? I don't know. Most likely something different, like my family."

You gave her a puzzled look. "How come?"

Nanaba shrugged. "Sometimes these sort of things can be hard to admit. Other people might even know you better than you know yourself at times."

You turned your cup of tea in your hands, trying to make sense of her answer. "How could someone else know you better than yourself?"

"Well," Nifa chimed in, "sometimes it's easier to see things from a distance. Plus, we tend to lie to ourselves – say the "right" thing instead of the true thing. Like... there's something within us that holds us back from saying what we really feel. Others don't have that barrier."

You nodded thoughtfully, understanding what she meant.

"And what do you love the most?" Lynne asked, a teasing grin on her lips as she dropped down next to you on the bed.

"Tea," you replied without missing a beat.

Lynne snorted out a laugh. "Of course. Why did I even ask?"

But a flicker of doubt remained.

– –

The thought lingered in the back of your mind even during the scout's daily training session. Today, your squad had been assigned to Titan combat training in the woods alongside squad Levi – usually your favorite type of drill. But this time, your mind just wasn't in it.

You halfheartedly slashed at the nape of the wooden Titan dummy in front of you, barely even leaving a mark as you passed it, shooting forward among the trees.

"What the hell was that? That wasn't even a scratch!" Oluo shouted from a nearby tree.

"Huh?“ You hadn't even noticed, too deep in thought to really pay any attention to your surroundings.

"Off your game today?" Petra asked as she zipped past you.

You looked after her with a blank expression, watching as her green cape fluttered after her in the rush of air before it disappeared among the leaves. You couldn't help but wonder: what did Petra love the most? And did she even truly know what it was?

The green canopy blurred around you as you picked up speed, the gas hissing as you pressed down on the trigger. You absentmindedly shot the grappling hooks into another tree, propelling you forward with a jolt.

A Titan dummy sprang into your vision, looming over you like a sudden shadow – too close, and getting closer still. Adrenaline surged through your veins, jerking you away from your daydreams. You twisted to the side to change your trajectory, but it was too late. The hard wood scraped against the side of your body as you veered right. There was a snap, and a sharp, searing pain shot through your shoulder. All strength left your am. You dropped the trigger. Then the world spun out of control.

You were falling, upended, the air screaming in your ears as you barely whipped past a tree. Desperate to regain your balance, you pushed the remaining trigger, releasing the hook you still had control over. In an instant, you were yanked sideways. Branches scratched over your arms and face as you were swept through the underwood.

Then – a sudden lurch. Your downward plunge came to an abrupt stop as the wire of the remaining grappling hook was pulled taut. It made you swing back and forth violently, scraping your skin against the bark of the tree it was attached to, but you were still suspended in the air.

Upside down, swinging like a pendulum. But still.

The muscles in your abdomen strained as you fought to get back into an upright position. But hanging only by one wire, it was impossible.

"Shouldn't have had that dessert earlier," you mumbled to yourself. All that swinging wouldn't have been easy on an empty stomach, let alone one currently doing a headstand. You really needed to come up with a solution, but the blood rushing to your head didn't exactly help.

"Here goes nothing."

You tried to angle your hip upwards into the right direction, then tapped the remaining trigger lightly, sending the second grappling hook shooting toward the nearest trunk. The hook caught, and you were jerked to the side – the swinging finally stopped.

With two wires holding you, you managed to right yourself straightaway.

Now that you had your balance back, it should be easy – you just had to grab the other trigger currently dangling from your left hip, and you'd be back in the game. But as you tried to reach for it, nothing happened. Your left arm refused to obey, hanging limply by your side like a dead weight, useless. You couldn't move it, couldn't grip.

You were stuck.

Without the trigger, there was no way of releasing the left grappling hook. And if you released the right hook again, you'd just go back to swinging back and forth like a giant pocket watch, tethered to a tree for all eternity.

This was embarrassing.

"Um... Help? Is anybody out there?"

No response. You sighed. Screw your dignity. You needed to be out of here by teatime.

With your right hand, you fumbled for one of the signal flares. For training, it was loaded with a purple shell for emergencies. You held it above your head and pulled the trigger, watching the purple plume of smoke erupt into the canopy above.

On second thought, maybe you should go back to swaying between the trees bottom-side-up. If you kept it up long enough, you might pass out, and then you wouldn't have to be awake for the mortifying rescue.

A fully trained soldier. Injured by a titan made from wood. During a routine training session. You would never live it down.

It wasn't long before you heard the familiar high-pitched sound of the wires whizzing through the air, the sharp hiss of the gas indicating someone going at full speed.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable laughter and mockery of your pitiable state. But it never came.

Instead, there was a warm hand, expertly palpating your injured arm which still dangled uselessly from your side.

"It's dislocated," someone said flatly. You would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Levi," you exhaled, suddenly full of relief. Everything would be alright now.

You opened your eyes to find his face only inches away from yours, studying it with a frown. He raised his hand as though he was going to touch your face, but stopped short, frozen in mid air. "You're all scratched up." His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and it sounded strange somehow, too rough around the edges.

"It's nothing," you replied quickly. "Just a few cuts."

"It's not nothing," he said.

There was something in the intensity of his stare that made your face heat up. Or maybe it was still warm from your upside down escapades. You cleared your throat. "Can you help me get away from here? I'm kind of stuck."

Levi slowly lowered his hand, his gaze drifting away. "Press the right trigger." His hand grasped the other one.

"Now?"

"Now."

You pressed down on it, hard, and for a split second, you were falling, but then a strong hand gripped you, sweeping you out of mid-air. Your world turned upside down once again as you were swung over his shoulder. Next thing you knew, you dangled awkwardly over his back, your face brushing against his green cloak.

"Hold on if you can," Levi said firmly. Your fingers closed around the fabric of the cloak, gripping it tightly. Through it, you could feel the straps of his uniform at his upper back, and you held onto them with your good arm, steadying yourself as best as you could.

The air rushed past you as Levi darted through the forest, expertly changing the hand securing your legs every so often to allow him to shoot both hooks.

The uneven weight distribution didn't seem to bother him at all. That was Levi for you.

"You truly are the best," you told him, but it came out muffled from the cloak fluttering into your face every so often. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Levi didn't reply, but you could feel the muscles in his back tensing through the fabric. He had a lot of them.

Your heart was fluttering in your chest and you felt a bit dizzy. It was probably because you were flipped over again. And of course, your upturned brain chose this exact moment to make you think of your dream again.

There's something you love more than tea.

But before you could give it more thought, the wind around you died down, and Levi's feet touched down on the ground with a soft thud.

You had reached the edge of the forest.

Levi started walking, your body still draped over his shoulder, legs dangling over his chest.

"Um, you can let me down now. My legs are fine, I can walk," you said, a little flustered.

"You sure?" He sounded like he was frowning again.

"Yep. I'm positive."

Levi stopped and bent at the knees, carefully easing you down from his shoulder until your feet found solid ground again. You placed your good arm on his shoulder to support yourself against him, shifting to a more upright stance. When you looked up, you realized how close you were to him, your chest pressed to his, your noses almost touching. Somehow, you couldn't meet his gaze, but you didn't move away. You felt his heart beat against yours, rapid and wild.

Maybe it had been strenuous to carry you, after all. He'd made it seem so easy.

"Thank you," you murmured. "For rescuing me. And... " You trailed off. Your hand was still on his shoulder. You squeezed it. "I'm sorry for causing you trouble like that."

"Like I'm not used to it by now," he muttered. "We'll talk about this later. Let's get you treated first."

You nodded, finally meeting his eyes, relieved to find no trace of anger in them. There was something else there, something you couldn't place, but it made your chest overflow with warmth, and you suddenly felt like giving him a hug. So you did. You were so close already, all you had to do was wrap your good arm around him.

You felt the muscles in his back tense under your fingertips. They had to be sore from carrying you. You rubbed them gently until they relaxed into your touch.

"I'm so glad you saved me!" You beamed. There was so much gratitude inside you, you didn't know what to do with it. "Thank you so much, I mean it! And while we're being honest, I was starting to feel a bit scared up there. But when you showed up, I knew everything was gonna be just fine."

"Don't be stupid. You don't know that yet," Levi muttered. "You still have to get your arm examined."

"I know, I know." You gave his back a final pat before you stepped back.

Levi was staring at you with his usual non-expression, his gaze lingering on you even as you started walking to where you'd left the horses.

He was silent the entire way, letting you ramble on about your dreams of becoming a porcelain potter should the threat of the Titans ever be purged from this world.

That silence was abruptly broken the moment you tried to climb on your horse. "No."

You turned around, confused. "No?"

"I'm not letting you ride one-handed."

"Oh come on," you protested. "Have you seen me ride? I could do it free-handed! Besides, Jeanie and I are the best of friends!" You gave the horse's neck a rub.

"This is final," Levi said tersely.

"Fine, if you insist." You took Jeanie's reins. "That's gonna be one hell of a walk."

"We won't walk. You can ride with me."

You shot him a surprised look. "You serious?"

"It's safer that way." His voice was calm, reasonable.

You shrugged. "If you say so."

He made you sit in front of him, your back pressed against his chest, his arms on either side of you. It certainly made you feel safe. But as you calmed down, the pain in your left arm grew stronger, settling into a constant, deep ache that was hard to ignore. The pain sharpened in time with each stride of the horse, making your teeth clench against the waves of discomfort.

Levi seemed to sense your distress. "You're in pain," he noted. It wasn't a question.

"Kinda... getting worse," you gritted out.

You felt his hand on your shoulder, steadying you. "Almost there," he said.

By the time you got back to scout's headquarters, you were ready to have your arm sawed off if that would stop the pain.

Thankfully, the medic had a less drastic plan in mind.

"I'm going to reset your shoulder to get it back into its proper position. It won't be pleasant, but afterwards, it will feel much better."

"Sounds good," you exhaled. "Let's get it over with as quickly as possible."

The medic nodded. "Of course."

She pulled your arm slightly away from your body, her hands firm and steady. The pain spiked, intense enough to make your breath catch. You peered at Levi, who was leaning against the wall of the examination room, his eyes fixed on you. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, as if to encourage you. You nodded back, silently signaling that you were ready.

With a sudden movement, the medic rotated your arm, making the joint slide back into its socket with an audible pop. A sharp, searing pain shot through your shoulder, making you gasp, but then it faded, leaving behind a sore, tender feeling which was much more bearable.

"You'll need to rest your arm for about two weeks. I'll get you a sling to help keep it immobilized during that time." The medic opened one of the cabinets, perusing its contents for the sling.

Levi pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer. "You alright?"

"Much better," you said with a smile.

He nodded, letting out a soft breath.

The medic returned to help you put on the sling, carefully tying it behind your neck.

"There, all done." She smiled.

"Yay! Just in time for tea."

"There's not gonna be any teatime today." Levi's tone was sharp.

You looked at him with wide eyes. "What? Why not?" You could really use some tea right now. There was still a dull ache in your shoulder, and now that the initial shock had worn off, you could feel the bruises throbbing on your left side where it had scraped against the wooden Titan.

"You're gonna tell me exactly how this could happen." Levi's arms were crossed as he scrutinized you, his eyes narrowed.

"What happened was…I almost flew straight into a training dummy." You scratched your head sheepishly. "I managed to avoid it at the last minute, but I still scraped it."

"Why?"

"I was distracted."

Levi raised an eyebrow. "Distracted by what?"

"I had this strange dream last night, there was this talking cat, and–"

"It doesn't matter," he cut you off. "You don't get to be distracted. If that had been a real titan, you'd be dead."

You nodded. "I know."

"Even in this scenario, you still could've died. Slamming into a wooden wall at the speeds we're moving? If you hadn't dodged–"

"I know that," you said quickly. "It was stupid. Incredibly stupid. It won't happen again. I promise."

For only a brief second, his gaze met yours, brushing you so softly and lightly, it felt like a caress. Then his face hardened. "I don't know if you can. If things like that happen to you during training, maybe you shouldn't be with us on the next expedition."

You stared at him, shocked. "You don't mean that. I've always been nothing but focused during missions. The reason this happened was because it was just training, so I underestimated the danger. It was a mistake. I admit that. But it won't happen again."

"Tell this to Erwin," Levi said curtly. He turned to leave. "You will submit a report about this. So will I. He'll decide from here on. I trust him to make the right call."

The exchange left you frozen in place, stunned.

Going on expeditions was a scout's purpose. Why would he take that away from you?

You shook your head. There was no way you were going to let that happen. You'd talk to Erwin, of course. But first, you had to clear your head. Levi was right: as a scout, you couldn't afford to be distracted. That stupid, silly dream which, for some reason, just didn't let you go – you had to get it out of your mind. It was why you'd ended up in this mess in the first place, taking up space in your thoughts when you should have been focused.

But how? Just turning it over in your mind had done nothing but make it worse. That was when the conversation from this morning popped into your head.

Sometimes it's easier to see things from a distance. Other people might even know you better than you know yourself at times.

You straightened up. Time to ask your favorite scientist for advice.

– –

You entered the lab. It always had a sort of singed smell about it, like something was burning, and today was no exception. The stains on the wall told you there might have been a minor explosion or two.

"Hey-yo!" Hange greeted you with a massive grin on their face, seemingly unbothered by the mess in their lab. As always, it was contagious, and you felt yourself smiling despite yourself.

"To what do I owe the honor?" They put down the beaker they were holding to give you their full attention. When their gaze landed on your sling, they shot you a questioning look, but quickly you waved it off. Later.

"Hange," you began, then hesitated. You took a deep breath. "Do you… Do you think there's something I love more than tea?"

Hange's grin widened. "Something… Or someone?"

You groaned. "Stop it. I'm serious here!"

"So am I. Dead serious, actually." They laughed heartily. "I genuinely think you might be onto something there."

"What do you mean?" You asked curiously.

"Well," they said in a long, drawn out way. "That's for you to figure out. Though I can certainly help, if that's what you want." There was a spark of mischief in their eyes.

"Yep, I definitely want that," you said eagerly. "That's why I'm here."

"Great!" Hange clapped their hands together and leaned forward excitedly.

"Let me start by asking you this: what have you done in your free time these past few months?"

You mulled it over for a few moments. "I guess I've been drawing a lot. Why?"

"That's a very good question! Why, indeed – why have you been drawing so much?"

You shrugged. "It was a good source of income. I needed the extra money."

"And for what, exactly?"

You tilted your head, unsure what Hange was getting at. "To buy Levi the perfect present for his birthday. You know that."

Hange smiled, satisfied. "Oh, you know I do."

You squinted at them, confusion etched into your features.

"Now answer me this: how have you been spending your beloved teatime recently?" They continued, gleefully unfazed by your puzzlement.

"I've been having tea together with Levi…?"

"Exactly!" Hange exclaimed, excitedly pumping her fist into the air.

"Yaay," you said, grinning at her enthusiasm, though you still didn't quite get it. "And that's interesting because…?"

"Don't worry, it should soon become crystal clear! You see, science is all about gathering knowledge and making observations, which in turn build up the basis of an hypothesis. Before we can call this hypothesis a fact, however, it has to be proven by running experiments. So let's do a little thought experiment, shall we?" Hange rubbed their hands in anticipation. There were burn holes in the sleeves of their lab coat.

"Let's imagine there's a giant fire ravaging our sacred headquarters. Can you do that for me?" You nodded. You could also easily imagine who would be at fault for the fire.

"You and Levi are the last people inside, the rest have already evacuated. Which one do you save – Levi or your treasured tea?"

You scrunched up your nose. "That's easy. Levi doesn't need saving."

"Sorry to say, but in this scenario, he absolutely does. Poor guy is passed out due to all the smoke. So which one will it be? You can only save one."

"That's so unrealistic," you protested.

"Just humor me here."

You threw up your hands in mock surrender. "Fine. I'd save Levi, of course."

A face-splitting grin spread over Hange's features. "There you have your answer. You chose him over your prized tea, didn't you?"

Your eyes widened as the realization sunk in. The thing, no – the person you loved more than tea was...Levi.

You loved Levi.

A/n: Yes, it needed a Freudian cat dream and a near-death-experience, where you were literally only hanging by a thread, to get it through your thick skull that you are head over heels for that man :D (or should I say: head over shoulders? By which I of course mean Levi’s strong shoulders xD OK. I’m going to stop now.) Stay tuned for next chapter if you want to know the consequences of your realization xD

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou, @huffleruffplant, @shutupp1, @iifrui, @shakysif, @ickearmn, @omlyurslvi

[h3nderyss]

you as nct dream's 8th member (headcanons)

pairing: ot7 x fem!reader . . . masterlist . . . 127 ver . . . wayv ver genre: fluff, headcanons a/n: romantic headcanons for each member if you were the 8th member and only girl in dream! u can imagine if ur in a secret relationship or not! ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

mark

he'll get so flustered after ur compliments, saying something like "yo, stop... seriously!" while literally smiling

writes sooo! many! lyrics about u, he'd ask for ur opinion on them without finding out theyre rlly abt you..

loves walking with u after practice chatting, you guys always end up at his place, or getting food at a local restaurant

a date? a hangout? who knows at this point..

gets shy when the members tease him from how much he pays attention to u, "she's my friend, okay?"

expect to always be cuddled up to him during every movie night

he'd always jokingly ask u to put on spiderman. EVERY TIME.

asks for ur feedback on everything he does, secretly wanting to impress u ...🤫

calls u late at night just to talk abt random things that pop up in his mind

yap sessions galore with his man

never expect the room to be dim with his presence. especially with u around, he loves to talk

i feel like you and mark would talk in english the most too

renjun

starting off, he'd be adorably protective, scolding u if u overwork yourself, but softening with a worried smile

sings softly to u during quiet moments (his voiceee i can't)

teach u mandarin calling u beautiful just to see u blush

king of handmade gifts

omgg, the amount of snacks u guys would sneak each other so the members don't see and steal!

would send u songs that u might like, saying they reminded him of u

his gaze would just linger on u tbh!

jeno

BLUSHING GALOREEE

ok. you guys are just working out but then when he GUIDES u

like hands on hips sorta thing, he pretends it's "for safety"

that was enough to get ur legs weak more than the actual workout

he'd give u piggybacks during practice just to be silly

loves seeing u in his hoodies, pls steal them more often

yea he'd catch you if you stumble saying something like "careful, princess" HELLLOOO???

i think he'd take that as a perfect chance to steal a kiss from u

he's a smiley boy, pls compliment him to earn more smiles!

the members would tease him for how much he looks out for u but doesn't deny it at all

haechan

he'd always notice when ur tired, letting u lean ur head on his shoulder

he'd like steal ur phone to make u chase him around the practice room??

then you'd find a few selfies of himself in ur camera roll

randomly dramatically serenades u during practice breaks

if you'd go thru a haunted house, do NOT expect him to let go of ur hand. he wants u to be safe and comfortable at all times!

if ur bored u would cuddle with him and play with his hand and fingers

he'll get surprisingly jealous if u hang around another member for a while, he'd be pouting or just staring at u until u notice

expect him to be feeding u snacks, and vice versa

he actually visibly lights up after u laugh at his jokes

ohhh don't even get me started on his silliness. you'd be constantly telling him how much u love his goofiness

lowkey brags about how close u two are to the others, he acts like it's such a big achievement

jaemin

sooo sooo sooo effortlessly romantic 🫠

literally telling u "you're beautiful" as if it's the most natural thing ever

u guys would have SO many pics together

he'd always find a way to make u laugh! funny story or just jokes, as long as it means he'll be able to see u smile

he'd brush ur hair out of ur face during practice

his touch lingering just a little longer

lord the way he's just so CHARMING

plans cute outings for the two of u

yall know that vid of him and mark patting the seat in between them??

yea, when he wants u to sit next to him he WILL do that

ur insta would have candid pics of him everywhere

chenle

personal mandarin tutor

makes fun of u for pronounciation mistakes but is rlly considerate in making sure you'll get it perfect

there'd practically never be a silent moment with yall

one of u HAS to be yapping

he'd show u off

make u laugh nonstoppp his goofiness comes out more when he's with u

gets jealous if other members tease u, "only i'm allowed to do that!"

when u catch him singing he'll go "i'm practicing for you" then it ends up in a serenade

for some reason the song that pops up in my head when i wrote that hc is 'when i'm with you'

he wants to watch basketball with u just so he can spend time with the 2 things he loves

even if u hate basketball bc cmon.. u cant resist chenle

you'd jokingly get jealous about his obsession with stephen curry LMAO

when ur yapping, or he's yapping, he'd tuck a piece of ur hair behind ur ear idk

if he has like a solo schedule somewhere that requires u guys to be away for so long, expect 5 minute long videos he sends u of his day

OR just hours long facetime calls

jisung

one day he'd be shy when complimenting u, the other he'd be bold af

he just ends up zoning out looking at u thru the mirror during practice

yall would just have lots of duo dance sessions, he's like ur private teacher

king of back hugs, his arms go around ur waist

he'd always find a way to be around you so subtlety it's like he's lurking

not in a creepy way he just rlly likes u idk 🙁

ok enough of soft jisung

seeing him out of breath with messed up hair after dancing is a DIFFERENT feeling

kisses like everywhere bro

he'd like to kiss u trapping u between him and the wall

anywayssss....

expect cute instead of classy dates.

[estuaryghoul]

Ghoul Summoning Lore

The ghouls come from Hell, obviously. Copia was never really sure of the process, at least before he starting leading the band. He was only a Cardinal, he didn't ask questions (lie, he always asked questions lmao). Turns out the process was rather horrifying, especially once he realized Terzo had been right about how /human the ghouls are. Imperator always said they were animals, less even. Terzo's infatuation with them disgusted her. But she was wrong.

They took them as children, Copia learned. He was still unsure of of who They were, but that didn't matter. They were brought to a place in Hell known as The Factory, manmade, at least hypothetically. Here they are trained. Forced to walk upright, be obedient, silent. Master their elemental instrument, but supress the element. They are kept tightly bound (magically), their minds a total fog. The Factory feels like a dream, but also an unending cycle that lasts aeons.

There are two kinds of ghoul, ministry and band. Three if you counted Phil, enigmatic bastard. The ministry are moulded to become Sister's vision, practically inanimate objects. They cannot speak, cannot think, can only obey orders. They help with menial tasks around the church. There are not many, but it's hard to tell. They all look and act the same. Blank. Their eyes have no light, it never used to bother Copia, but once he began leading the band, seeing how lively they truly could be, it was like being surrounded by moving corpses. Probably the creepiest part about them, besides their silent appearances behind you, was their... room. It wasn't a bedroom, more of an old storage room or armory or /something. It was a windowless hall where they were kept when not at use. They would stand in silent, orderly lines. Like a room of mannequins. Looming eerily in the darkness, the only movement the tracking of their dull eyes as Copia passed through. He knew they only watched out or obedience, waiting for orders, but it was creepy as fuck. He avoided that hall.

The band ghouls however, while he was lead to believe they were the same, were very different. Sister said they were like animatronics on stage, just objects pretending to be human, but even she knew that was a lie. They had /personality. They didn't stand silently and unmoving while waiting for band practice to begin, instead silently looking at one enough, tending to their instruments, even messing with each other. Some of them would even playfully ignore Copia's instructions, averting their eyes and flicking their tails slyly. Honestly it was kind of like hearding cats when they got bored, though a visit from Sister or one of her Board was quick to straighten them out. Still however, they could not talk. Hisses, small vocalizations, growls, yes, but words? Nothing. Only the backup singers could "speak", whispery voices that sounded like an eery mimicking of human speech without Copia's voice over it. But still, unless they were singing, they could not speak.

Music has life, soul. It is an expression of one's self, a way to connect unique to itself. Perhaps that effects the ones playing it, writing it. Perhaps the soul must be freed more than the opressor would like, for the tool to be used. Phil didn't like to speak clearly, preferring to answer questions with questions, long-winding riddles, opaque references. It was a puzzle to speak to him, which Copia secretly enjoyed. He didn't treat him like he was stupid, wouldn't hold his hand to lead him to an answer. If you wanted to understand, truly, you must think for yourself. Phil would provide pieces, you must put them together yourself.

Phil himself was an outlier. If one didn't know, they would assume he was a member of the human staff. The only thing that gave it away was the ghoul mask he wore, just like the others. Copia had never seen his face, but he had heard the long pointed mask was based off of it, though that was legend that Phil pointedly would neither confirm nor deny. He was Imperator's right hand man, the band manager, a connection between human and demon. He was the first to be summoned, before The Factory, before the band. A crossroads demon, the story went, who Imperator managed to trap. Bound to an eternity of service to the church. He was the only ghoul allowed to speak, but that did little for him. Everything he said, heard, did, saw, was subject to be reported back to Imperator. She owned him, he was her spy. Nobody trusted him, not even her. Copia thought this was bullshit however, Imperator had left him with the ghoul while she worked far too many times as a child, and he had grown attached to the curt bastard. He has taught him chess when he was six, by ruthlessly beating him over and over until he learned to strategize. Always encouraged him to read, expand his mind, ask questions. Even when talking to that long-ago child, Phil was not clear. He didn't dumb down his sentences, didn't make his puzzles any easier to understand. It was rewarding to have a conversation with him, Copia felt. When the pieces finally clicked, it felt like winning a game. He was the only one who felt this way. Sister was eternally frustrated with the lack of clarity from her so-called spy. His forced nature as an earpiece was dangerous, no doubt. Many things made it back to her that others would've preferred to die in secret, but when things mattered, when Copia asked questions he shouldn't... Somehow the answers were cleverly twisted when reporting to hide his secrets. Phil pretended not to care about anything or anyone, but Copia was almost certain he at least has a soft spot for him and the band. Yeah, maybe he had a hand in ruthlessly killing them off when Imperator's whims changed, but just maybe...

[freakish-hazzard]

do you ever have a dream so strange, otherworldly, beautiful, vivid and enchanting, yet so so anxiety inducing and stressful to the point it hurt a bit DURING the DREAM, that when you wake up, you feel sad that its over and you wont always remember it? or that you feel like a new person with new and important experiences?

[kaisollisto]

(Based off of the reality of having a metal ring in your back as a constant reminder of your fate and how that affects you as a person set in the Switzerland arc)

“Does it hurt?” 

Ava’s pressed face down into the pillow sleep curling around her limbs. She hums, she can’t remember what she says, she’s exhausted. Her arms are tangled beneath her pillow. She holds her fingers tightly between each other, her bones ache from the pressure but her hands no longer shake. Ava hasn’t experienced this before, a fear that haunts her at night. (She finds she cannot stop dreaming about dying. It’s stifling in the cover of night trying to figure out where she is.) 

She slowly opens her eyes and squints in the darkness. Beatrice is facing her a furrow in her brow that Ava knows she’s doing unconsciously. Ava’s lip quirks a smidgen, Beatrice looks funny. It’s a bit silly to her, Beatrice no doubt working out a solution to an unknown problem that Ava has yet to see in the middle of the night. In her sleepy state she wants to laugh at the imaginary cogs churning in Beatrice’s head. 

Beatrice scooches closer and Ava panics, her skin can taste the dust of Bea’s forearm. She hoists herself up on her elbows, turning to face Beatrice. “Wha?” Ava’s shaking off bits of sleep from her mouth when Beatrice repeats herself. 

“Does the Halo hurt?” 

She doesn’t know if she wants to answer that. Ava peers over Beatrice squinting at the harsh light of the digital clock on Beatrice’s side. Ava loves it, it reminds her of the early 2000’s and the aesthetic of waking up to an alarm to go somewhere. The clock blinks an innocent 1:43 Am, and Ava debates on letting her head thump back down. 

She turns her body on her side, she can feel the halo shifting in her back and it makes her want to throw up. The sides of the halo press against her shoulder blades and Ava resists the urge to yank it out. She grits her teeth and settles ignoring the skin of her back pulling tight to accommodate for the ring. Beatrice is still expecting an answer and Ava can’t lie to her, she pulls the covers of the sheet up to her chest hoping to bide more time for an answer. 

"Everything hurts Bea," Ava smiles, "getting my ass handed to me is hard work."

Beatrice frowns displeased but looks at her through her lashes, it's unguarded, the stress and worries of the world stay out of their room in the dead of night. Her lashes are so pretty and Ava wants to curse the soft glow of the moon. There’s just enough moonlight to illuminate her eyes but overshadow her freckles. Ava swallows down the taste of defeat, she can’t win, she thinks. 

Her gaze is soft, Beatrice is looking at her and it’s different yet the same. The same feeling in her chest constricting her lungs, the same soft gaze of Beatrice. Beatrice who likes what she sees in Ava when Ava can barely see where she begins. She doesn’t like to dwell on it, the truth of the matter being what belongs to Ava.

If she closes her eyes she can pretend just a little longer. She can give herself the hope of the future and what comes after all this. She can put down the fighting and the artifact and live. Ava doesn't want to think about it anymore, at least not tonight when Beatrice is here with her. 

Beatrice is soft. She knows it from hours and hours of training. She's felt it when Beatrice corrects her form, in the way she talks. She speaks from a place of care like she has turned the harsh words in her brain over and over to soften the syllables spoken to Ava. And Ava doesn't linger on it, the meaning behind it, (Ava didn't think she'd make it this far, finding a person who cares quite like Bea does.)

And Ava's got it bad, she knows she's fucked because Beatrice doesn’t say anything about her language and Ava can't not tell her the truth. She looks down, her hand fiddling with the bed sheet underneath them. 

"It doesn't hurt," if she thinks about it she can feel the fibers of the cotton between the pads of her fingers. "But it's very uncomfortable." She doesn't want to find the response in Beatrice's eyes, content to hear it from her voice. The soft British lilting accent that holds her just as soft as a touch. 

She waits, she can picture Bea’s mannerisms with her eyes closed but maybe she should check just to be sure. Ava peers up at Beatrice and she’s suddenly closer. Her eyes really are pretty, there’s a depth to them that Ava wants to spend an ungodly amount of time studying.

“Can I help?”

[chronurgy]

In my feels about how Gortash abso-fucking-lutely ruined Durge's life. Just fucking destroyed it. But that's also the only reason they have any sort of chance to make something different for themself. He's the only reason they even have a chance at a happy ending (even though it's a happy ending that he can't be in)

[thegreatyin]

The Scoundrel would totally do red honey wouldn't they? They wouldn't care about the poor schmuck with bees in their brain at all

maybe even black honey if they were feeling extra stupid one day.

funny you should ask because i've thought about this. way too much. and my conclusion is. well. they'd do it but only conditionally. and by conditionally i mean if you presented it to them they'd happily do it but when you tell them how it's farmed they'd be upset for the wrong reasons

[spinifera]

hi

[oysters-aint-for-me]

i had a dream last night that it was my birthday and i was in disney world and i was on the phone, talking to someone named “russell” who “did not have a gender i would recognize” (not something that was said so much as understood via dream logic) and they were saying to me, “it’s your birthday, and i really wanted to get you something you’d love, something you’ve wanted your whole life,” and i was utterly enthralled, couldn’t wait to find out, so i said “what is it?” and russell said “how would you like to be—” but at that exact moment i was just stepping on to one of those boats in the jungle cruise ride and it was full of friends, and they all yelled “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” and covered up what russell said. dream-me did not want to have a big party or see a lot of people on my birthday, but didn’t want to be ungrateful to them, so while i was still on the phone w russell i reacted to my friends on the boat like “oh my gosh i can’t believe it, this is so nice! you shouldn’t have!” then i realized russell probably thought i was reacting to whatever they had said they were going to give me, so i said to my friends “just give me one second” and i got on the phone and said “sorry a bunch of people yelled and covered up the last part of what you said - ‘how would i like to be’ what?”

and russell said in this uncanny, numinous voice: “KNOWN.”

and i thought oh…i’m not sure i do want…that…

but i didn’t want to disappoint russell by making them think at first that i was really excited (due to my [also fake!] reaction to my friends on the jungle cruise boat) and then disappointing them by rejecting their gift of being “KNOWN,” so i pretended to cry and be really touched and i thanked them - but i also knew i was lying to this who claimed to “KNOW” me and i also knew that they didn’t know i was lying, and so i knew they didn’t, couldn’t actually “KNOW” me, but i had to pretend that they did anyway, because russell seemed so pleased with themself.

and then i had to figure out how to either gracefully get off the phone with someone who claimed that they “KNEW” me so i could join a party that i didn’t want on the disney world jungle cruise with friends i didn’t really know, OR how to gracefully excuse myself from this party i didn’t really want so i could keep taking to russell about how this “KNOWING” thing was gonna play out.

next thing i remember i was looking for a bathroom (i suppose i had excused myself to go to the bathroom) but all of the toilets were out of order or too big or too small or in the middle of my high school auditorium or too, like, surreal or cubist or dadaist, or otherwise haunted or emanating evil energy and bad vibes - which is a recurring dream for me - i was like “well this is miserable but at least it’s familiar” ???? like, ok, subconscious, that’s a Choice…

[tamaharu]

okay thats interesting! in the SF try-outs during the song "legally blonde" she sings about how she cant be legally blonde, while in the official version AND THE DEMO she sings about letting her be legally blonde. which means that at some point they changed the lyrics around, and then changed them back! laurence o'keefe.... nell benjamin.... what occurs in your twisted minds

[variousqueerthings]

the fun of having put out the "bj's moustache is gay culture" post while also headcanoning first and foremost that whatever bj is, it's not actually gay but something way funnier and more fucked up