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thesherrinfordfacility · 1 year

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Hello,

Sorry about this essay entering your inbox and this certainly isn’t me disagreeing with you, or any criticism, more of an addition.

I wanted to add another perspective to your thoughts on Crowley, his flaws and how S2 may change his and Aziraphale’s relationship.

They are very human flaws, and seemingly unique and important to him as a demon. As Aziraphale’s flaws are unique and important to him as an Angel.

From what we’ve heard of pre fall crowley, he didn’t give Aziraphale much thought on their first meeting. Also, it sounds as if Crowley was somebody important in Heaven. And from what we know of high ranking angels - they are callous, unforgiving, unfeeling and the boss everyone dislikes. This appears to be Heaven’s idea of a good Angel, given their responses to Aziraphale ‘the traitor.’

Crowley, to me, sounds he was doing his job, well in the eyes of head office. He was just another high ranking angel getting on with it. Not a nice/good person from a human perspective but, if anything, flawless from Heaven’s perspective.

That was until he started asking questions, hanging around with the wrong people and sauntered vaguely downwards. Then he and Aziraphale met again, with Crowley now the ‘lesser’ being. Good triumphs over evil, surely? And this Angel he has met shouldn’t give him the time of day, like Crowley didn’t to a ‘lesser’ angel (can you imagine, if he remembers, how guilty Crowley probably now feels about this.)

But Aziraphale listens to his prattling about the tree and the flaws in God’s plans, engages with him and then shelters him. This angel has feelings, he is different, he cares about others. He gave away his flaming sword and indulges in gross matter- moves that make him a flawed angel in the eyes of Heaven.

Endearingly, Aziraphale is a well intentioned bitch.

And with Crowley possibly doing good with the whole eat the apple business and later kindness, he is a flawed demon in Hell’s view. Hell’s requirements of a good employee are cruelty, wickedness and finding murder a fun activity on a wet Wednesday afternoon.

But, kindly, Crowley is a daft, soft cockblanket.

And it’s what I feel GO is about. Balance between good and evil, finding your own side and not always becoming what others intended you to become.

Each of them stand out from their original sides because of their complexity and flaws, which is why they fit and work so well together, and have been able to for 6000 years. Neither is perfect and neither is horrible, and any criticisms they can find in the other also exists in themselves. Seemingly the only two entities like this- with possible exceptions - so they know they need each other. They’re the only two that can truly empathise with one another.

I don’t necessarily excuse these flaws and mistakes (pre-fall classism, the bandstand, I’m the nice one, how can someone as clever as you be so stupid and so on) but they can be explained. And a relationship is about how you move through your mistakes and flaws together, not being free of them.

If this has made no sense I apologise. I do struggle with expressing my own views. 💛

hellooooo @ezra-fell!!!✨✨

gOSH yes this is an essay but fuck if im not gonna do my best to provide you with a response worthy of your message!!!!

i will just start by saying i don't think any one person's opinion or perspective is correct per se, i certainly don't think mine is flawless, but it is kind of what i feel could at least possibly be a theme in s2 or even s3 or just in general, and if it isn't cool, it will firmly remain a hc and im happy with that!!!

for anyone reading, i will just reiterate once again that im not here to cause argument or discourse, i literally just write unhinged ramblings about these characters (both of whom i love DEARLY and are v important to me for various reasons), and yeah my opinion is NOT correct by any stretch, but it's AN opinion✨💓

going into a cut because my answer will probably be just as lengthy!

totally agree with you on everything you've said about crowley. i do not for one sec think that his character as an angel is like an issue (other than being a bit of a knob but as you said, if he's an Archangel or lesser Archangel (ie like sandalphon), then yes this characterisation makes perfect sense and is awesome in terms of how his character changes when he becomes a demon)

i also completely agree on your point about it being about balance (literally just talked about this in another post im going meta-feral at the mo), i do think thats the main theme of the story. i guess what i was trying (and failing) to say is that aziraphale's view of crowley might possibly be an entirely human one.

let's get personal bc at this point bc i can't speak from everyone elses perspective - ive been aziraphale in this scenario (the scenario i put forward in my post from earlier). ive been in a long term relationship, and had a major incident happen about 18 months ago. that person is who i loved and cherished more than anyone in the world, but after a lot of therapy and a lot of communication, i realised that whilst i loved them and thought they were absolute perfection, flaws and all, i had placed them on a pedestal of who i thought they were and who i wanted them to be.

so obvs with aziraphale his faith is very literal (i have no religious faith), but my faith in my person was so unquestionable and unyielding, that i also ended up hurting myself (emotionally, no CWs here!!) to find out that the flaws that i had idolised and thought were perfect actually came around to bite me in the ass, and honestly? at the time, i didn't like what i found. i still loved that person, still found them attractive and lovely etc, but my faith in them was completely shattered, and i hadn't realised until that point that love and faith are completely different things. i had initially believed that in being with someone, the two were synonymous. they aren't.

now sorry to get so personal on main lmao, and i realise that this may well be a great deal of projection of myself into aziraphale (don't we all do that tho???) and i truly recognise that, but it just feels to me that this 'reckoning' that's coming -- whilst it might not be entirely what ive said (id be utterly flabbergasted if it was) -- might be something similar. i want the boys to be happy and together and unassailable as much as the next person, but somehow i feel like we'll need to wait for s3 for that dream to be completely realised, and for the boys to take each other as they are, not as they thought they saw them initially. i hope im wrong, we'll just have to see.

i hope that's an appropriate answer to your ask, but tldr i agree with everything you said, i just have limits as to how much i necessarily discuss in one post haha!!!✨💓💓

#good omens #good omens season 2 #crowley #aziraphale #shit me that was personal im so sorry everyone #woweeeeeeee #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #ask #personal #edit 23/07: turns out i do NOT have limits on how much i put in one post #im a bald faced liar

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queenharumiura · 1 year

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Meet the mun. Basics

NAME: Neo

PRONOUNS: She/her

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: Discord > Asks > Replies on posts = Tumblr IM

SINGLE / TAKEN: Taken

— three facts

I have an excel document where I keep track of all art that I've purchased/commissioned since 2021 because that's when my huge craze for collecting art from artists I like started. I did this to really put into perspective how bad my 'nochillitis' gets. I've--- spent a lot on dA artists lol. (don't get me started on gacha games)

If anyone knows Prince of Tennis, I have all of the 'Valentine Day Kiss' songs. Wouldn't you know that they keep releasing a new one every year? I collect them!

I don't know how accurate it is because I was doing it in my car and people were walking around so I got nervous but, according to singingcarrots, My lowest singing note is a F#3 and my highest is a D6.

— experience

I believe I've been rp'ing for about 16-17 years? I think only 7 years on tumblr.

— sub-genres

Tbh I don't understand what this means. KHR has a bit of crack humor to it, which appeals to my troll heart. It's easy to do wholesome fluffy things with Haru as well as it is to do angst. IDK if that answers the question.

— plots vs memes

Mmm... so I'm fine with winging threads and seeing where things go, but plotting things out usually does retain attention for both sides. Memes are fun, even if I tend to write them as if they are standalone things. Some memes are fine to be continued- but the drabble ones usually aren't. I do always make sure to specify that somewhere, either in tags or in the response itself.

If I had to say, I have a stronger preference to plots since it's easier to cater things to your muse. Memes are something I throw onto the dash when I have the time or in the mood for it. I don't have the best relationship with the inbox, so I personally don't have a good association with memes in general.

— long or short replies

Depends on the definition. I'm honestly not very good with sentence threads, and I will often slowly veer into paragraph territory. I tried sentence threads before, but that's when I was hit with 2 word responses- which is why it's in my rules to never give me 2 word replies. It became a peeve of mine.

The shortest I can go is probably a paragraph. The longest... I think to date may have been something between 1.5-2k words? I write whatever feels right for me in the moment, and I honestly don't mind however much or little my partner wants to write.

I can however be asked to keep my replies within a certain length (ie 3 paragraphs) and i'll adhere to that. 8)

— best time to write

Any time i'm not distracted with youtube/discord I tend to be more active in the afternoon to late evening hours. As for chatting, I tend to prefer hours 10am-4pm because it feels like it's still early in the day that I can afford to be distracted with conversations. After that, I do try to stay away from discord if I can so I can focus on writing.

If I have nothing to work on, then any hour of the day i'm awake is a good time to talk.

Stole from: @whiskeysmulti

Tagging: I don't tag, but I can if you'd like me to.

#Tagged meme #Whiskeysmulti #((The 3 facts took me the longest bc I do try to come up with new facts that I haven't revealed before if possible))

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sitpwgs · 1 year

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What's your opinion on her having not read the source material and writing a retelling anyway? Do you think people are justified in their anger or overreacting? I just think it's hilarious she said reading percy jackson made her qualified enough to write about this and that she thinks the Internet will forget, on the other hand people are way too quickly angry and should give more things a chance without jumping on the hate train immediately

good afternoon! i think that this conversation actually is a little more complex than just "are people justified in their anger or overreacting", and i've been trying to figure out how to respond to this ask for a while now (sorry it took so long). i'll preface this answer with the fact that i haven't looked into this book/this author too much, but i went and skimmed through the original interview that you're referencing for the sake of answering this ask. i also think that if the book had been marketed as "inspired by" rather than "a retelling", we'd be having a different conversation!

my thoughts under the cut because this got very long!

do i personally think that authors should read the source material before writing a retelling, a remix, etc.? yes, very much so. i don't think that you can subvert a classic and do it justice if you're not also addressing the original themes. it's why i have a problem with most (if not all) austen retellings i've read, because very few of them include social commentary and just focus on the romance, when social commentary was a large part of austen's works. (and also why i am constantly disappointed with the retellings i've read). do i think this got blown out of proportion/do i think people made this just about this specific author and interview when there is a larger conversation to be had (and when other authors have done the same)? also yes.

"I read a lot of the stories within The Odyssey, because they’re in things like Percy Jackson, and those little books of mythology you get as a kid, but I actually started and finished writing without sitting down and reading the whole thing. I have various translations; there are parts that are very beautiful and readable, but it’s so long, and written in a ‘prose-y’ way that’s kind of impenetrable." "Largely mythology has bypassed YA, which is why this is quite fun, because I love Greek mythology and YA, so it’s a little fun melding of my favourite things." (x)

i think the way people on twitter/instagram talked to/about this author (back when i was more active on twitter) was incredibly unnecessary; there's no reason people should be sending hate, and i feel very strongly about this. and i think that it's easier to target one person/one incident, rather than have productive conversations about how publishing doesn't want to tell stories of color, or how publishing fails to support authors (whether it's with media training or marketing), or how publishing fails to support their own staff, or how publishing rewards white mediocrity, or how publishing is a huge cesspool.

i think that there are several layers to this: the first, being that this author is now a new york times, indie, and international bestselling author. which is great for her, especially as a debut author — that's going to open up a lot of doors for her, and ultimately it is a huge triumph! from what i've seen (just from scrolling twitter/feed osmosis, really), her book had a pretty significant marketing budget (or at least, more than some other debuts, given that they had personalized ARCs), which i'm sure also helped a lot. i'm also going to say that the NYT bestseller list is a bit of a scam, but that's a different conversation. she also got a movie deal for this book, but i never really think too much of movie rights being sold until casting has been announced. by all of these metrics, it seems like (from my limited outside point of view) the author's career hasn't really been affected by people's "anger or overreaction", as you put it.

i can't help but wonder how this would be different if the author was a person of color. there's another (longer) conversation on which books and authors publishing sets up to succeed in terms of marketing budgets (and how many authors aren't really given any help, how authors are being thrown to the tiktok wolves, author burnout, etc.) to be had as well.

i also can't help but think of how authors of color are constantly told that they don't know their own stories/culture etc. well enough, or that publishing already has one book that is vaguely similar (and by that i mean 0.0000001% similar). and then you get this author, who is able to not just publish her book (and become a bestselling author) by rewriting a story that she didn't read entirely (i won't speak to how well she knew the bit of the story she was inspired by, because i 1) don't know the odyssey that well & 2) have not read her book), but also reach such levels of "success". i remember seeing on twitter that people were talking about how authors need media training (which is true), but also that i only ever see the "authors need better media training and support" argument when we're talking about white authors.

something that i personally wish people wouldn't do though, is rate books on goodreads a 1 star (with a comment about not having read the book) for the sake of giving it a 1 star without reading it, because then it makes it harder to see reviews that properly criticize the writing/plot/etc. and people aren't able to make as informed of a decision when picking up a book. and this goes for all books, not just this one.

i definitely have more to say on this, but i'm going to cut myself off here since 1) this answer got really long & 2) if i don't i'll never hit post

#post: answered #sorry again that this took so long !!#i am also now trying to think if there are any ... retellings i've genuinely loved and enjoyed lately

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doskorogorpg · 1 year

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CONGRATULATIONS SASHA!

YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF SOFIYA MARYIN.

Welcome to Do Skorogo RPG! Please make sure you scan over the CHECKLIST, send in your account to the main in the next 24 hours, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Sofiya's faceclaim has been changed to Rina Fukushi.

PART I — OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME & AGE & PRONOUNS:

Sasha, 23 and she/her pronouns!

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL:

GMT+1 and a 6 out of 10. I’m finishing up my masters degree, so my time is divided between uni work, other projects and free time. I can definitely log on to discord daily, and I tend to be more active in the afternoons. I’m free on weekends as well!

ANYTHING ELSE?

Thank you so much to the admins for letting me run my plot points by you!! regardless of your decision, this was such a fun app to write and i can’t wait to see where do skorogo goes!! <3

I do want to add that if any part of what I wrote goes against what the admins envisioned for the world and it’s lore, I am absolutely open to changing it!!

PART II — IN CHARACTER

DESIRED ROLE: Sofiya Maryin

The inherent allure of feminine rage??? The weight of destiny and how it breeds obsession? The self-destructive nature of revenge?? Sofiya as a character felt so fascinating to me. She is so intimately intertwined with the world, even if she doesn’t give a shit about it. The story of the South is her story. I love characters that always just tether on the edge, and Sofiya definitely feels like that to me!!

FACECLAIM: Rina Fukushi

GENDER & SEXUALITY: Cisgender woman & panromantic demisexual

HEADCANONS:

A LEGACY OF SURVIVAL (tw: mentios of war, depictions of violence, glorification of death)

There are four seats at the Maryin dinner table, each reserved for a family member. Sofiya sits between her mother Yuliya, and her father, Kyrylo. Across from her, the seat is empty. They never prepare a plate or utensils, but Sofiya knows who it’s reserved for. Between her father’s limp and a trunk with a centuries old dagger, sits her sister - war.

The Maryins were supposed to be insignificant. A family of miners from Argun, hacking away at stone, hidden below the earth. They were supposed to be nothing. Casualties in the war at worst. They could have been - insignificant casualties, nothing - had Albina not answered the call.

Albina, the first of Sofiya’s ancestors to pick up a weapon. Albina, the woman who abandoned her children to fight for the glory of the South. Albina, who had intertwined the fate of the Maryins with war when she fought in the Battle of Rysk.

Centuries later, the Maryins become something different depending on who you ask. For the people of the South, they’re legends, things of myth. For the North, they are insignificant, a family deluded with grandeur. For the East, they are vermin. For Sofiya, they are family and destiny alike.

She grows up with tales of her ancestors and carries them close to her chest. She is not the sentimental type, but whenever she kisses her dagger, an heirloom, she imagines she is kissing the hand of Albina Ostraya, or Oleh Hitriy, or uncle Artem, or cousin Lyubochka. Or, eventually, she imagines she is kissing the cheek of her papa, Kyrylo. She kisses them and promises to carry the Maryin name like a badge of honor - a name spat from the lips of Eastern soldiers, a name cursed (blessed, or so Sofiya believes) by a witch to die, over and over and over, a glorious death:

Maryin, from soot and ash you rise. The battlefields will be your great demise.

The name Maryin is a guiding star. And yet, it is also a shadow, ever-looming over her. Every night, as she shuts her eyes, she thinks of what they’ll call her - umnaya, clever? Hrabraya, brave? Uzhasnaya, horrible? She thinks of what might become of her. She doesn't fear death. Sofiya embraces it like she would a sister. What frightens her more is dying like her father, uncle or cousin. In other words: An insignificant death.

(More on Sofiya’s ancestors can be found here!)

WHAT AM I IF NOT A SWORD? (tw: mentions of guns, depictions of death, murder)

Artem, Lyubochka, Kyrylo - it is them who sharpen her like a sword. Uncle, cousin, father - the holy trinity that prepares her for her grand destiny. She is the amalgamation of her family’s turmoil, the pain of the South. She survives them all, buries one after the other, her soul aflame while her relatives mourn. She will not forsake her name, her destiny. She will not forsake war.

She doesn’t grow up on a battlefield, but she may as well have. Sofiya was a Maryin first and a daughter second. Her bedtime stories were tales of injustice, the pain and suffering of the South. Her home became a hub for secret rebel meetings, her father trying, trying to form a functioning unit to strike the East where it hurt. She grew up with war holding her hand, guiding her, waiting for her at her doorstep.

Vengeance, however, would tighten its hold on her throat in early adolescence.

Until then, it is her father that teaches her strategy. She learns through card games, checkers, chess. He sharpens her mind enough that she can hold her own against experienced players, and in her womanhood, she uses it to gamble them out of their money. They play games, but it’s never just play. It’s preparation - how you move your pawn is how you will, one day, move soldiers, units. How you take the queen, you will take out the enemy.

Her uncle teaches her combat. She could put a gun together blindfolded, shoot a target with near perfect accuracy. But where she excels is hand-to-hand combat. This is how the Maryins express love: by preparing each other to fight. By baring their teeth. With reminders to keep her dagger close, always.

Her cousin, Artem’s daughter, Lyubov, is called Lyubochka. A shadow in the night, a smuggler by trade. She takes Sofiya on runs when she’s older, where she learns of supply routes, ways to hide contraband, how to conceal a person and their identity. It’s a fine art that enamores Sofiya. She recalls the card games her papa teaches her and concludes smuggling reveals one's hand. For example - there is a market for Jurda parem in Argun. Grisha will pay a good amount of money to get to Ryva. Border guards can be bribed.

Until they can’t. It’s at the cusp of Sofiya’s girlhood when Lyubochka is arrested smuggling weapons from Svel, and uncle Artem travels from Tahelka to demand her return. Neither of them do. Lyubochka is executed, a traitor to the crown. Artem is shot by one of the guards for trying to disrupt the execution. A minor fight occurs - between a group her uncle had haphazardly thrown together in a desperate attempt to save his daughter, and Gusev’s lap dogs.

At her mother’s request, they bury them, even if the caskets are empty (the king refuses to send them home). Sofiya watches, seething. Sofiya, by sixteen, is ice waiting to crack under your feet. She does in may - when her father is killed in combat while trying to strike one of the weak points on the outskirts of Engels. He is killed as if he were a mere fly on the wall, and Sofiya can’t cry. They wouldn’t want her to.

She is a sword, she is an amalgamation of all of them. She shuts her eyes each night, imagining herself with a new epithet - Sofiya the kingslayer.

TO MY MOTHER: A WRETCHED MIRROR

A conscience, the remnant of her humanity, Yuliya Maryin. She was never meant for this family, an anomaly among them. She survived. Sofiya wanted to hate her for it. Yuliya hated this war. Then again, is hate not an inherited creature?

Sofiya wanted to hate her mother.Her voice had an accent, and Sofiya desperately wanted to hate her for it, just like Yuliya desperately wanted to hide it. Sofiya wanted to hate the Eastern blood running through her mothers veins, the matter from which she was born.

She couldn’t. Yuliya would still brush her hair in the evening, and she would wait for her at the doorstep of their home, but she wouldn’t intervene. Yuliya would swallow the insults thrown at the people of the East, but war, for her, was a visitor in her home. Never a sister, never a friend. The woman was an observer, never participating, never stepping in, and Sofiya used it as munition:

They argue. They fight, they yell, they ignore each other. Yuliya is the person that prevents Sofiya from running away to Tahelka right after her fathers death, saying she won’t have another funeral to prepare. Sofiya ignores her for a week, sends her glares, pretends she is the same as every Eastern scum that wants to see the South burn to the ground. She defies her at nineteen, chastising herself for being weak when, just as she is about to leave, she turns around to see her mother in tears.

Stupid, she wants to call her, too soft, too fragile. She can’t. No matter what Sofiya does, what Yuliya doesn’t do, she can’t hate her mother, nor can her mother hate her. They haven’t spoken in a while now - Sofiya’s been busy, she rationalizes. But there is pain in knowing that someone is waiting for her, back home. That someone prays for her, cries for her, curses her name. That someone loves her. It’s a burden. It’s a thread holding her to her humanity.

TO KNOW THE WORLD SO VIOLENTLY

Or: a collection of miscellaneous headcanons

Sofiya’s anger runs cold. It’s not a hot, impulsive flame, but a calculating, machine-like creature. Once her mind is set on revenge, or she holds a grudge, there is no going back. She’s easy to annoy, but not quick to explosive bursts of anger - except when it comes to her sore spots, those being her mother and her legacy.

Sofiya’s mother came to Argun with nothing. A former tutor to the elite of Starosva, Yuliya sought refuge in the South after escaping an arranged marriage. She worked as a teacher, while Kyrylo suspected her of being a spy for the East. What went on from there is a mystery, but Sofiya likes to imagine it went like this: Yuliya suspects Kyrylo is a resistance leader, trying to find dirt on her, and confronts him. Kyrylo, stunned by her daring nature, falls in love. It takes them five years to tie the knot.

She’s partial to silver jewelry and tries to incorporate it into her wardrobe. Earrings, small pendants, bracelets. She’s minimalistic in her fashion, but if there is anything she puts effort into, it’s her jewelry and eye makeup - you can always count on her to produce a daring eyeliner look.

The dagger she carries with her is an heirloom from her ancestor, Evhen Maryin. A general in the Southern army, he perished in the Battle of the Dread woods, but not before striking his attacker with his dagger, laced in poison. It has been passed down in the Maryin family ever since, Evhen being referred to as Evhen the serpent, Evhen Zmey.

While Sofiya is part of the Volki, she doesn’t tie herself exclusively to them. Her smuggling escapades continue, if the offers are high enough, and she always has an eye on the developing rebellion in the South.

PLOT POINTS:

A PYRRHIC VICTORY

a victory that inflicts such a devastating toll on the victor that it is tantamount to defeat. Such a victory negates any true sense of achievement or damages long-term progress.

Sofiya is not perfect - if there is any evidence for this, it’s the event on the Glassy Run river I detailed in my para sample. It’s an instance where instinct, her desire for revenge, overpowered her calculating nature, and I want it to bite her in the ass. I want her to feel the consequences - maybe the man survived and has now become, just like Sofiya, hellbent on getting revenge. Maybe it’s not just him, but perhaps the Lyktin family as a whole. (Maybe, Sofiya’s mom could get roped into the mess her daughter’s created. Just so it hurts that much more.) Whatever the case, I want her to be so completely screwed that she begs the crew for help. I want her to depend on them. I want her to be so desperate that it brings her to her knees. I want her to have no other choice but to be vulnerable.

And in her vulnerability, maybe someone (and i’m not gonna name anyone specific, as this is definitely up to the muns) could see the tragedy of Sofiya Maryin: a vessel for war, a girl bred for revenge.

(on that note, I would also like to add that this could very much go on the route of the found family, which I adore! I would love for the crew to see her so raw and still accept her. I want them to see past the war and find just - her, a girl, a heart!)

GIRL FRIGHTENED. GIRL DESTROYED. GIRL AS A SYMPTOM

Continuing from my previous point, I feel that Sofiya has never feared death. In fact, she is deluded with the idea of an honorable, glorious death on the battlefield. I think she sees herself as a vessel for destiny, or legacy, rather than a human. She was bred for war, she was conditioned all her life to accept death as her friend, and I feel that there’s a great tragedy in a girl that was never allowed to be a person. I want to explore Sofiya’s relationship with herself, her own morality. Perhaps developing an identity outside of her family name, finding something that drives her to live beyond her desire for revenge. I want her to start thinking of what happens after they win. Like, I imagine she might have this moment of realization: maybe she sets foot on an airship for the first time and decides she wants to be an explorer. I think her relationship with Anton could be a great catalyst for this! Someone that shows her the joys of life, that sees her as a girl, not a weapon!! And then, after this realization - I want her to fear death. I want her to start to fight it, rage against it. I want her to be a person first, a Maryin second.

CHARACTER EXPANSION:

How far would you go for your crew?

A raise of her eyebrow. This is certainly not what she expected when she began this game of chess. The wording catches her off guard, stops her from moving the queen and capturing white’s knight. White, in this case, being the Spymaster Sofiya has so desperately been waiting for.

The smuggler was aware she might have to deceive her if she was to be recruited. Still, referring to the Volki as her crew was sudden. Implying they are hers implies she is theirs. It implies ownership, belonging, and Sofiya wants to spit at her feet and tell her she is loyal only to herself, her family, her destiny.

What she wants and what she does are often contrasted. Her violent desire is transformed into a voluntary defeat - she releases the queen and moves her knight, leaving the king vulnerable. It’s deliberate. It’s an invitation to Svetlana to check her king. Surrendering her power is frightening, but a necessity nonetheless.

“As far as you’re willing to go for me. An exchange should be fair, no?”

She leans back in her seat, producing Evhen’s dagger from its place in her boot. With a cloth, she begins tracing its edge while the spymaster makes her next move. She checks her king. Sofiya’s face shines with a satisfied grin. Just as she suspected.

“So, the real question is - what would you do for me?”

Knight takes the bishop, leaving them both one bishop down.

What would you do if you got your hands on the circlet? (tw: violent imagery)

Polishing the dagger in her hand, she hums. The weapon glimmers with a beautiful, silver shine and the weight of legacy presses against her skin. Like Evhen, she intends to coat it in poison, push it through the throbbing heart of King Viktor and watch it change from silver to crimson. A promise, made with fingers curling around the dagger’s handle: I will perform a miracle.

How the circlet is included in that, she isn’t sure. Her first instinct tells her that it’s useless to her - she is no Grisha, there is nothing to amplify, nothing to add, nothing to gain. Sofiya bites down on the matter, sliding the cloth across her weapon once more. It might not benefit her, directly, but it is of great value to Viktor (god, does she hate saying his name. Thinking it. It’s a disease, a dirty thing she wants to scrub from herself, destroy any marks it might have left).

The logical conclusion - and Sofiya tilts her head, watching the glint in her eye reflect in the silver dagger - is therefore:

“Destroy it while I make that Gusev scum watch.”

What is dear to you shall perish by my blade.

PARA SAMPLE:

(Tw: depictions of violence, attempted murder)

It begins forming like ice beneath her skin. A prickly, burning sensation at the tips of her fingers, the pit of her stomach, at the center of her chest - revenge. It grows in the marrow of her bones, surges from the core of her heart, and whenever Sofiya fantasized about it, she saw herself lunging forward, a hungry dog baring her teeth. On the Glassy Run, she drowns the fantasy in the waters below. She doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. Her gaze is a tundra, directed at the person across from her:

A man, insignificant in anything but name. Lyktin.

He volunteers it himself. She might have gathered it from the velvet, a deep indigo with intricate gold details sewn at his collar, meticulously crafted. It must be from Engels. It must have cost him a fortune, not that he had any financial difficulties - he offered to hand over the Krohna needed to take him to Tahelka in the cover of night, a high price that hadn’t deterred him. Or, his cigar might have clued her in on the fact. A casual puff of smoke that smelled like the rotten opulence of the capital he blew right under her nose - to him, she was nameless, rowing the boat on the river, a bug easily squashed under his polished boot.

Anything could have given him away - and yet, in his arrogance, he did it himself:

“Ah, Divine Burn. You know I think the worst deals are made sober,” he laughs, surveying her like he might a fur coat. “Where did you say you’re from again?”

“Engels, sir,” her mother’s accent laces her tone, and the aftertaste is a bitter reminder of her origins. At this, he smiles, waves a hand.

“No need for formalities. If you’re ever in Starosva, dear, do come by the Divine Burn. Ask for Lyktin, I’ll make for good company.”

Smoke envelops her again as he puffs out the remainder of the cigar. It’s a toxic, poisonous beast trying to swallow her whole. It clouds her vision, his surname banging against her eardrums trying to burst them, and Sofiya is gripped with a sudden sensation - she is fifteen again, mourning her cousin and uncle. She stares at the gravestone much like she stares at Lyktin, and her throat is constricting. Breathe, she needs to breathe. Cry, scream.

Sofiya, in the rowboat, can only speak, tone low, the ice in her veins growing colder:

“Lyktin. You know, there was a smuggler who was getting Grisha over to Ryva. Heard they were caught by either a Lyktin or a Dryga.”

The man, oblivious to the brewing storm, scoffs.

“It was a Lyktin. Drgya men wouldn’t know how to track her. She was deluded. Apparently some Southern scum tried to save her.”

“She was a Maryin.”

The ice cracks. Her mask slips. The man furrows his brow at the sight before him - no longer is Sofiya a girl, no longer does he dare call her dear. As she reaches for the dagger in her boot, she is a warzone. The perfect product of war.

“You’re not from…”

Sofiya strikes. She leaves a long, red line across his face and he falls back. Using the momentum, she pounces. The boat is barely keeping them afloat, rocking with her attack. He grabs at her hands, clawing, pressing into the skin beneath her coat, fighting for his life. She hates it - his touch, the red left on her dagger.

“She was a Maryin,” she hisses above him, “you don’t kill a Maryin, you fucking idiot. We survive. We hunt you.”

Sofiya tears herself from his grip, raising the dagger, prepared to deliver the final blow. He uses the opportunity, launching himself off the boat, nearly knocking her over. Sofiya falls to her knees, catching herself. The Lyktin man acts, be it on instinct, be it from pure idiocy. He grips the edge of the boat, trembling, pulling himself upward, failing, again and again. Sofiya angles the blade above his hand.

“Send my regards to the pigs in Starosva when the river washes you up.”

With that, she strikes. The man yelps, the water below swallowing him whole. The boat moves with the stream, and Sofiya trembles. Revenge has released her throat and she gasps for air. Somehow, it still smells like his stupid little cigar. The river will wash that up, too.

She cleans the blade by the riverside, kissing its handle. Lyubochka, look down on me. Let me feel your pride.

PART III — EXTRA HYPE

DISH IT OUT!

The Maryin encyclopedia (again!)

#lsrp #literate rp #new rp #original rp #fantasy rp #doskorogoaccepted

0 notes

exoticalmonde · 1 year

Text

Dr. Eve interviewer voice:

Visiting Dr. Pinkie's landship is always an adventure, especially because they have equipped every operator with multiple wardrobes worth of clothes. It makes one wonder though why do all of them decide to wear swimsuits? Here is a responce posted earlier this year, destroying all controversial takes.

And considering how well-taken this attitude for special food days in the RI cafeteria has been (popular among operators), we have a poll set up again!

OR WRITE YOUR ANSWERS IN THE NOTES BELOW BECAUSE I'M STILL LEARNING TUMBLR AND KEEP MESSING UP THE POLLS AAAAA-

All of this because I decided to be silly and asked a question that rolled out into seven seasons of conversation material.

Yeah this is how activities with Dr. Pinkie usually end up

---

Me: *Sad I can't figure out how to formulate the poll question*

Pinkie: *Making fun of me trying to ask if people have a menu in Rhodes Island* "America doesnt even have a food day and they're the food country."

Me: "You have pancake day and doughnut day and... Other stuff."

Pinkie: "You have to understand all of these days are made up by conglomerates to sell out more."

Me: "Yeah and we're a Pharmaceutical company that actually cares about their workers, so I'm talking about a special food day."

Pinkie: "Welcome to Pharmaceuticals, all drugs today are free."

---

Pinkie: "I send out Abyssal Hunters on Monday and Tuesday we eat whatever they catch. How do you think I manage to support Seafood days? If they can eat it, everybody can." *Thinking* "Pan in on the Mizuki event."

0 notes

songmingisthighs · 3 years

Text

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. xxxi - countryside orgy

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

??? × reader, ateez × reader

tw : smut, (I don't wanna say this but) orgy, unprotected sex, a bunch of sexual activities that I can't even describe because what the fuck am I doing

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

a/n : buckle up, it's gon' be a long one like 5.7k-ish

After lunch, you all spent the afternoon at the beach together. Mostly running around like children and taking pictures.

When the sun sets, you all returned to the villa, tired from the activities done when the sun was still up in the sky but still wanting to do something fun.

For some reason, all nine of you ended up sitting around in a circle in the living room playing truth or dare like a bunch of high school children at a party. Not only that but whichever one of you managed to sneakily incorporate alcohol into the game should be questioned on their intention.

"Okay, okay, okay," Yunho cut off the laughter, trying to get everyone's attention to him, "I got a good one," he smirked. He took a swig from his beer before snapping his head to you, "(Y/N)," he started in a faux menacing tone, "truth or dare?" he asked.

The alcohol in your system rendered you incapable of feeling anxious on the oncoming question or dare. Without thinking twice, you made your choice, "DARE!" you exclaimed, rather too loudly which made Seonghwa, who was seated next to you, chuckle at how cute you're being.

"I dare you to tell us what in the actual fuckity fuck did that crap weasel Jung Wooyoung used to blackmail you? Like damn, you're one of the nicest girls on campus, I honestly can't think of anything bad that he'd be able to use to force you into being his fake girlfriend," he asked.

You scrunched your nose at the dare, not really expecting his intoxicated mind to be able to remember about Wooyoung blackmailing you. But then again, a dare's a dare and you don't really have anything against letting all of them in on the secret you and Wooyoung had had for a while.

"Okay," you took a swig of encouragement from your glass of beer before putting it down and preparing yourself to tell them. "The blackmail material was about someone that Wooyoung knows and it has something to do with arts and crafts," you slyly said.

All of them, except the ones who know which are you, Wooyoung, San, Mingi, and Jongho, had a look of utter confusion and dumbfoundedness that you actually burst out giggling at how they looked.

"Hey, no fair! That's cheating!" Yunho whined, throwing a cushion from the couch at you, to which you barely dodged as it bounced off of you onto the floor. Soon the others followed in on protesting at how unfair you're being.

You held your hands up in mock surrender, "okay, okay! sorry! I'll tell you," you giggled out, "Wooyoung found my binder the day I went to building F because Mingi had somehow managed to get himself lost there," "guilty," Mingi cut you off, grinning innocently. "Anywho, he snooped and San told him it's mine because he knows me from this freshman year class we took together, long story short Wooyoung told me that he'll release the content of the binder if I don't agree to help him out," you shrugged.

Seonghwa reached across to smack Wooyoung square upside the head, making the latter groan in pain at the sudden impact. "Okay, but what's the content of the binder?" Yunho whined out again, still curious. You sighed in defeat, knowing that he's not gonna drop the matter anytime soon, "It was... A collage, of some sort," "a pretty artsy one at that, might I add," San cut off, raising his beer at you in respect, "a collage of...?" Jongho urged with a smug smirk, making you shot a glare at him, "of Yeosang, okay? I used the pictures of him that I took back from the campus life photo shoot to make a pretty, emo skater-boy aesthetic collage," you grumbled.

Yeosang's eyes widened as big as they could get at your revelation. Yunho and Hongjoong were laughing while clapping their hands in pure amusement, meanwhile, Seonghwa was biting his lips tightly, trying to hold in his laughter at your expense. Wooyoung, Mingi, and Jongho on the other hand were snickering at how shocked the others were, especially Yeosang since he couldn't seem to avert his bulging eyes from you.

The whole thing made you whine in protest. San, who was seated next to you, pulled you into a comforting hug, patting your head and cooing in your ears

After a while, all nine of you were starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol in your bloodstream. It would appear that all of your inhibitions are lowered and the game had taken a dirty turn.

Jongho was stripped down to his boxers, Yeosang had somehow been dared into putting on one of your panties, Seonghwa was still regretting telling his most recent sex dream which involved you and three tubes of whipped cream and ending with the boys cleaning after his mess, Mingi was still recovering from prank calling his asshole former RA with fake sex sounds made together with Wooyoung, and Yunho is currently swaying his hips in an effort to write out his name with his butt, the sight was hilarious and Wooyoung leaving a loud and hard spank to his ass was the perfect way to end his dare. The only one seemingly unbothered was Hongjoong, he had no issue telling how he ended up being a camgirl's extra.

Now it's back to your turn. Out of randomness, you picked truth and almost immediately after you blurt the word out, Yeosang threw you a question with a smirk on his face, "How many of us have you slept with?"

As soon as he asked it, everyone snaps their heads to you, almost as if cornering you. With the help of alcohol, you simply shrugged and answer him, "literally everyone except San and Yunho," the two boys mentioned had their jaws dropped, "Wait, so out of everyone here, we are the only ones left???" San asked in disbelief.

You smirked at him, leaning your face close to his, "yeah, jealous?" it was obvious that the alcohol had made you slightly braver, and it's affecting San. His attention drops to your lips and his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. "Depends, what are you gonna do about it?"

It would appear that the alcohol had not only affected you but also the other boys as well. Because as soon as you taunt him, San pulled you to his lap and began kissing you hungrily. You couldn't help but wind your arms around his neck to pull him closer, wanting to feel him against you whilst you both made out in front of everyone. Whilst you busied yourself with San, the others were watching you two with a look of shock, amusement, and flustered.

You detach yourself momentarily from San, making him whine as he tried chasing your lips with his. But it was futile as you grip the back of his hair and pull his head back, emitting a low groan that almost sounds like a growl from him.

"Whose turn is it?" you asked to the room, eyes not leaving San's lust-filled expression. Someone cleared their throat behind you, piping up to answer your question, "I-I think it's Jongho's turn," the voice said. You later identified the voice to be Seonghwa's.

"Okay, Jongho," you called out, breaking said man's trance to focus on you. Your hands began cupping San's face, your thumbs tugging at his bottom lip as you feel his hips starting to grind on you.

"I dare you to dare me to make San and Yunho cum," you smirked, eyes flitting towards Yunho who is two people away from you. Initially, he looked surprised, but when his eyes met yours, he smirked before beginning to crawl to where you and San are.

Sensing your plan, Jongho chuckled and obliged, "of course, (Y/N), I accept your dare of daring me to dare you to make San and Yunho cum," he said.

It was all it took before you began grinding on San back with more ferocity, hips flush against his that he was able to feel the heat from your pussy even through your underwear and shorts.

Yunho situated himself next to you, his hands pulling you towards him to connect your lips together in a messy kiss. You were trying to balance giving both boys the same attention, so as your hips work on San, your hand reach down to firmly cup Yunho through his pants.

The others were enjoying the show you put on. They too started to feel aroused, some were even thinking about if they were in either Yunho or San's positions.

You suddenly halted your movements on them to stand up. Your crotch is now in direct eye level with San, making him gulp while Yunho stared at your ass in pure fascination.

Without saying much, you unbuttoned your pants and let them drop to the floor as you throw your shirt off. You could've sworn one of the boys watching (most likely Wooyoung) gasped loudly at the sight of your body only covered in a flimsy two-piece bikini that you had put in case the boys wanted to play in the water.

"Shit that's dangerous," Jongho moaned from behind you. You felt that single comment boosted your ego through the roof. You eyed both Yunho and San momentarily, tilting your head to the side as if you were thinking. Your pointer fingers circled in the air in their direction, "take 'em off please, boys," you demanded.

Not even needing a second, both Yunho and San immediately stood up to strip nude. Both showcasing different yet equally pretty cocks, and you just know what you want with them.

Your hands found their way to push San back down to a sitting position. As he lowered himself down, you situated yourself back onto his lap, dropping your crotch directly on his bare cock, only having a thin barrier between you both. Once situated comfortably on San's lap, you began grinding on him hard again while motioning for Yunho to come closer to you. As San moaned at the feeling of your hot pussy rubbing itself on his bare cock, you grip Yunho's cock and began licking at his tip.

"Damn, she's greedy," Yeosang moaned from behind you. You couldn't see the other six boys, but from the sounds you heard, you're pretty sure they're touching themselves.

Yunho moaned loudly when you began taking him in slowly inch by inch until you can feel him at the back of your throat. But even then, there's some of him left that you couldn't fit in your mouth. As you began sucking Yunho off while simultaneously swivelling your crotch on San's, San sneakily managed to untie the knot of your bikini top and latched his lips to your chest. You gasped softly on Yunho's cock when you felt San's tongue running along your chest and around one nipple before grazing his teeth on it, making you squeal. The vibration of your voice shot straight to Yunho's dick, making him groan.

The sight of you on top of San whilst still focused on sucking him off made Yunho unconsciously buck into your mouth. You had one hand on San's shoulder for balance as the other was anchored on Yunho's hip, your fingers would ever so often graze against the underside of his cock and on his balls.

It didn't take long for both of them to feel like they're on the edge, and you knew it too. How could you not? San had tightened his grip around you with his face still buried in your chest and his hips thrusting onto you hard, the feeling of his cock brushing against your clit was amazing. Yunho had gripped onto your head as he began thrusting into your mouth, using it to chase himself over the edge.

Out of the two of them, San was the first to cum. He shuddered and bit on the skin of your boob as his cock let out streams of white cum, painting both your stomachs. You could feel San's hot cum trickling down your stomach. You detach your mouth from Yunho's cock for a bit, using your hand to pump him instead as the hand that was on San's shoulder reached down to your stomach to scoop some of the cum into your mouth before pressing your mouth to San so you both could taste him.

The visual drove Yunho over the edge as his hips stuttered and he came on the side of your neck and onto your chest. The sudden impact made you gasp and push San slightly away to see what had just happened.

Your eyes widened at Yunho's cum that's now prettily decorating your chest, along with San's cum that's starting to drop to the floor beneath.

Luckily, Yunho was quick to take the box of tissue nearby and he and San began cleaning you up from their cum.

Once cleaned up, you stood yourself up from your previous position and turn to look at the other boys. You smirked at the sight of them palming themselves whereas Wooyoung and Mingi just blatantly whip their cocks out to touch themselves.

Seeing that you're already too far in anyways, you pull your bikini top off and pouted at them, "I didn't get to cum, can someone please help me?" you said in a faux defeated tone.

Honjoong was the first to spoke up, "are you sure you can continue, baby? You had just taken two men," he said. You rolled your eyes playfully at him, "of course I can! I can take three of you at the same time," you answered.

Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Yeosang, Mingi, Wooyoung, and Jongho began eyeing each other. You could see the wheels in their heads turning as if devising a plan on how to take you.

The first one to move forward was Jongho. He stood up and walk towards you. His hands moved to palm your breasts and began massaging them slowly, "prove it then, take me, Seonghwa hyung, and Joong hyung at the same time," he smirked cockily. He momentarily looked back towards the two eldest and nodded his head to the side, motioning them to come and help him take care of you.

In a blink of an eye, the one pair of hands turned to three before you could realize anything. Hongjoong pulled your bikini bottoms off before throwing them on Wooyoung's lap, "go help yourself," he ordered to which Wooyoung obliged by wrapping the item around his cock before resuming to pump himself. Seonghwa carefully manoeuvred you into a kneeling position on the floor before situating himself in front of you, he cupped your face gently and peck your lips softly before positioning himself at your entrance, "you ready?" he asked sweetly.

You hadn't even realized that Jongho had situated himself behind you and Hongjoong standing at your side. Jongho sweep your hair to the side, uncovering one of your ears so he could speak directly next to it, "we don't have lube with us, so this might hurt a little, but you can always tap out, okay?" he said, leaving a peck on your cheek as he presses the head of his cock on your rim.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the impact from two out of three of them. Hongjoong knelt down next to you to connect both of your lips together. When you were distracted with Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Jongho began pushing themselves into you. You groaned at the sudden intrusion. It wasn't uncomfortable, but you weren't used to being filled like that. You grip onto Seonghwa's shoulders tightly while he caresses your hips, trying to coax you into relaxing more. Hongjoong's lips moved down to suck spots around your collarbone and chest, trying to distract you.

"Baby, damn, you're so tight here," Jongho groaned when he's fully sheathed in you from behind, his hands massaging your ass in an effort to make it feel better.

"Well gee, Ho, I don't usually do anal with any of you," you muttered, starting to get used to the feeling of having two cocks inside you. You tap on Seonghwa's cheek with your pointer finger, signalling for him to move first.

Seonghwa started to thrust up into you slowly. His cock sliding in and out of you combined with the fullness in your ass from Jongho's cock and Hongjoong's lips sucking marks along your collarbone made you sigh shakily and drop your head back onto Jongho's shoulder.

When he felt like you're relaxed enough and distracted with Seonghwa's thrusts, Jongho experimentally pulls slightly out before pushing back in once. When his hips slammed onto your ass, you felt your breath got knocked out of your lungs, but you didn't feel uncomfortable at all.

Taking your lack of protest as a good sign, Jongho began building up his own rhythm. He matched his thrusts with Seonghwa's. So when Seonghwa pulled out, he was thrusting in, making sure you're never left empty.

Both Seonghwa and Jongho were preoccupying you too much that Hongjoong had felt slightly neglected. He got onto his feet and grab his cock, poking it to your cheek with a pout on his face.

His expression made you giggle because who would've thought drunken, horny Hongjoong is whiny and needy?

Nevertheless, you open your mouth so he could slide his cock in. His cock isn't as big as Yunho and it fits rather nicely in your mouth. It didn't take long for you to start deepthroating him, occasionally letting your teeth graze against his cock that caused a low rumble from his throat.

Seeing your newfound attention, Seonghwa decided to be a little shit and tease you.

"Look at you, so pretty like this," he mockingly said. His hands that were situated on your waist moved to your chest, he caressed the underside of your boobs initially, but his fingers slowly started tweaking at your nipples, "you like having your holes filled, don't you? Having us use you however we like," he growled, fingers pinching at your nipples harshly.

The pain from your nipples shot through to your core, both Seonghwa and Jongho felt you clench at it. Your mouth hung open as a gasp escape you, Hongjoong's cock slipping out of your mouth momentarily.

The man was not pleased when your lips lost contact with his dick. He glared at Seonghwa and reach to yank at his hair, forcing Seonghwa to look at him.

"You better stop that or else you'd be the one sucking my dick," he threatened. In return, Seonghwa only chuckled mockingly, darting his tongue out to lick at his lips mockingly, "you'd like that, wouldn't you? You freak," the older teased.

Jongho leaned forward and hook his arms around yours securely, assuring that you wouldn't be able to move, "you think they'd realize if I slip you off of Hwa hyung and just fuck you myself?" he asked, making you giggle.

But your giggle was cut off when Seonghwa and Hongjoong averted their gaze towards the youngest male. They both promptly return to their tasks. After promptly shoving his dick back in your mouth, Hongjoong and Seonghwa started a new pace, much faster and much harsher than before.

You nearly toppled back onto Jongho, but thankfully he had a firm grip on you. As if not wanting to lose to the two eldest, Jongho began thrusting faster into you, making sure your ass smack against his hip bones repeatedly.

The only sounds that could be heard were words of encouragement from the boys watching, skin slapping, three moans, and one muffled one.

As the three thrust into you carelessly, using use as a mere item for them to chase their orgasm, you suddenly felt overwhelmed. With Seonghwa brushing his tip against your g spot, Jongho rubbing his sweaty skin on you and letting his thick cock fill you up beyond your imagination, and the lack of air that was caused by the blockage Hongjoong caused in your mouth, you toppled over the edge.

Your body tensed up, fingers curling on Seonghwa's shoulder to grip him tightly and your mouth gape out as a choked moan escapes you.

Instead of letting your orgasm ebb, neither one of the three stopped what they were previously doing. Moreover, they seem to be at it more than before. The rhythm of their thrusts became sloppy and uncoordinated. Your fucked out expression only egged them to cum even further, wanting to feel the ecstasy you're currently feeling. You could swear Hongjoong could see his dick bulging out from your throat and that Seonghwa and Jongho could feel each other's dicks rubbing inside you.

Jongho pulled out and came first, opting to shoot his load on your back and your ass than inside you. You groaned when feeling his hot cum on your ass and the man behind you made it his mission to make things messy as he spread his cum down to your ass and to your pussy hole so that his and Seonghwa's cum would mix together. You could actually hear Jongho snickering at the back, amused with himself.

Next thing you know, Hongjoong's hips stuttered and he came down your throat. Though still going through your own high, you swallow Hongjoong's load and keep sucking him to prolong his climax.

Seonghwa's eyes darkened even more at the sight of you so greedily swallowing Hongjoong's cum so easily.

"You're a greedy cumslut, aren't you? Made for nothing other than good dicking and taking cum, if that's what you want, then take it," he said before letting one, two, three, four more harsh thrusts before letting his head drop to your shoulder, lips pressing on his skin as he unloads inside you.

Never have you felt dirtier yet satisfied beyond anything after sex. Sure you've taken two brutes at the same time before (re : Mingi and Jongho), but apparently, three is your new limit.

Whilst the four of you were taking your breath, Jongho was smacked to the side by Mingi using the tissue box.

"You just had to make a mess, don't you?" he grumbled as he drops to his knees behind you and letting his hands carefully cleaned you off. However, you couldn't help but shudder when his hand reached between your legs to wipe the dripping cum off. Mingi smirked smugly at your reaction, "tingly down there, baby?" he teased, pressing a kiss down at the back of your neck.

"Don't tease," you whined, letting your body fell slightly backwards on Mingi's body. As the man behind you wraps his arms around your waist, you could see Wooyoung standing up from his position on the floor to walk towards you. He was stopped merely a couple steps in by Yunho who nudged his head towards Yeosang's direction, "might wanna let Yeosang go first, man looked like a ticking time bomb," he snickered. "You mean a ticking cum bomb," San retorted from the couch, hand stroking his erect cock even after cumming previously. "Damn it, it was right there," Yunho grumbled.

You flit your gaze Yeosang and true to what Yunho said, he had forgotten about his initial shyness. His cock was out in the open air, exposed by the pants that he had pushed carelessly down just enough, tip angry red and it looked so hard you think it must hurt.

Without wasting another second, you stood up and skip over to Yeosang. You drop yourself between his legs, adorning a goofy grin on your face, "can I help you with that?" you asked, eyes dropping to the problem between his legs.

Normally, he'd blush so hard if someone said that to him. But for some reason, he just found you adorable. He chuckled at you, lifting two fingers in a come-hither motion, "gimme a kiss first," he said. You squealed at his confidence but jump upwards to crash your lips with his in a playful kiss.

Lips busy, you sneakily drop your hand down to take Yeosang fully in your hand. Once your hand made contact with his cock and squeezing it softly, he gasped into your mouth.

You detached your lips so you'd be able to look down. You couldn't help but giggle at the sight before you.

"Red lace looks great on you, Sangie," you teased. Yeosang looked down and groan when he realized what you meant. He was so horny that he forgot he was wearing your panties for the dare.

"Jung fucking Yunho," he grumbled, dropping his head back onto the couch in embarrassment.

Still giggling, you lower yourself to press your chest against his hard dick. When Yeosang felt his cock pressed onto something soft, he whipped his head back up and nearly bulged his eyes out at the sight of you rubbing your chest on his dick.

"Do you think you can cum with my boobs, Sangie?" you titled your head at him. The stark difference between the innocent expression on your face and the lewd action you're doing made his dick twitch.

"Try me," he challenged.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you began squeezing your boobs around his dick and move your chest up and down on him. The skin of your chest was colder compared to his hot dick, it felt kind of nice.

Considering how hard and worked up he was, you think it wouldn't take him long to cum. So you work yourself so that Yeosang could reach his peak soon. Poor guy must've been wanting to cum so bad.

As you're preoccupied with Yeosang, Mingi took the opportunity of your ass jutting out to slip himself into your pussy in one swift thrust. Thank god you're still wet from previous ministrations.

The sudden impact halted your tit-fucking on Yeosang. You whimpered slightly when Mingi decided to stay still after waiting for him to move.

"No, no, princess, you're gonna make Yeosangie there cum with my dick in you," he said. You could hear the smugness dripping from his voice. He leaned forward to lick a stripe from the middle of your back to your neck, "so you better not move much if you don't want daddy to punish you," he growled next to your ear.

"Oh shit, Mingi's straight-up cruel, isn't he?" Wooyoung muttered to Seonghwa, who was equally shocked at the sight in front of him. Jongho piped in from the side, "nah, he just love taming (Y/N),"

Initially, you thought tit-fucking Yeosang would be an easy thing. But with the additional interruption inside you, you can't seem to focus. On one hand, you want to make Yeosang cum on your chest. But on the other hand, you think having Mingi fuck you would be amazing.

But you're determined. You tried not thinking about how Mingi's dick is filling you up nicely and to just focus on letting Yeosang's dick thrust in between your tits, having your tongue graze against his tip every time it came to view.

Slowly, Yeosang started to thrust himself onto you. You adjusted your rhythm to his, making sure that when he thrust himself up, you're pushing your boobs down on him. Soon enough you started to get used to Mingi's cock filling you and just focus on making Yeosang cum.

With increasing speed, you encouraged Yeosang to cum. Egging him to the edge. At one point, you even spat down onto his cock to make him move better as if your boobs hadn't already been covered in his precum.

Yeosang is different from the others. Whilst the others have telltale signs of them cumming through their faltering movements, Yeosang kept a steady pace. He'd increase his speed from time to time and his face would scrunch in concentration.

"Come on Sangie, I want your cum," you whimpered at him. His eyes met yours, focusing on the way you're looking at him. Eyes batted and lips pouted, proving that you're really begging for him to cum on you.

"Yeosangie, please," you moaned out. He inhaled sharply at your voice, knowing that he's just about to cum.

"F-fuck, (Y/N), w-where do you want me?" he uttered out in pants.

"Cum on my chest, Sangie, please," you begged.

As soon as his brain processed your begs, he spurted out ropes of milky white cum to your chest, some of it even splattered on your chin and neck.

You were about to compliment him when all of a sudden, Mingi pulled you flush into his lap and turned you both around so his back is rested on the couch behind him.

Wooyoung appeared before your eyes out of nowhere, hand still on his cock that's wrapped in your bikini bottom. He had a teasing smirk on his face as he pumps slowly, "our turn," he sing-songed.

Without even waiting for you to react, Mingi's arms wrapped around your waist and began thrusting himself.

"Ah!" you yelped, surprised at the suddenness. But Mingi didn't care as he only presses his forehead onto your shoulder and thrust at an animalistic speed. Your eyes focused on Wooyoung and how he's staring directly at your pussy while his hands move on his dick quickly to match Mingi's thrusting pace.

You licked your lips at how needy Wooyoung is. So who are you to deprive the man of what he needs?

Carefully, so that you wouldn't disturb Mingi, you hook both of your legs around his longer one's, making sure that Wooyoung could get a better view of how Mingi's moving into you.

Wooyoung's eyes bulged out at the new visual. Your glistening pussy practically sucking all of Mingi so greedily, pulsing with need, pink bordering on red from the way it's been used, and still slightly leaking the cum that Seonghwa had left inside you, not to mention your chest still has what Yeosang left on you. His hands initially faltered in surprise, but when his eyes met your encouraging ones, he scooted closer to you and began pumping harder and faster. How did he not get hand cramps yet is a mystery.

Mingi seemed to notice Wooyoung moving closer to the both of you. It was then when he noticed your legs had spread wider for Wooyoung to see and you're now enjoying how he's fucking into you.

He chuckled in amusement, feeling somewhat proud. "You're a considerate little princess, aren't you?" his voice rumbled deeply next to your ear, making you blush. You hadn't even realized one of his hands snaked to between your legs until it suddenly smacks your pussy loudly.

The others who were watching jumped slightly at the sound. One of them definitely whimpered either from the sound or from how your pussy is now a shade darker.

Mingi is now determined to make you lose control. Something deep in him convinced himself that even though the others had had their way with you, HE'S the only one who knows your body best and how to control it, bend it to his will.

With the determination set, his hips set to a steady pace and his hand rub at your clit in harsh circles, the lubrication of your juice and his precum (along with Seonghwa's leftover cum that he wouldn't admit) made it easier for him to pleasure you.

You let out a loud squeal at the newfound pleasure. Your chest arching high from Mingi's and your eyes scrunching close. If it weren't for Mingi's arms anchoring you, you'd surely topple forward and smack yourself onto Wooyoung's dick, face first. Although, that wouldn't be the worst way to fall over.

Wooyoung licks his lips when he saw the outline of Mingi's cock through your stomach, thinking how you must be so tight and small for Mingi's cock to be able to do that. Not that he think it's a competition, but he's pretty confident in his own size and girth.

Currently you're a moaning mess. Hands groping onto your chest for anchor and toes curling. The pleasure had become overwhelming. You don't know if it's the buildup of multiple sexual activities or the fact that you had only cum once whereas you had managed to make six out of eight men cum in and on you.

Mid-thought, you felt something inside you snap and you let out the most pornographic moan you can muster as you squirted on the floor, Mingi's legs, and onto Wooyoung.

Other than Mingi and Wooyoung, the room felt like it had been frozen in time. Six pairs of eyes watched with disbelief at what had just happened in front of them.

"Shit, she never squirted before," Jongho choked out, making the other five pairs of eyes divert to him.

"Oh fuck, that's the hottest thing I've ever seen," Wooyoung grunted. He promptly moves himself to be directly in front of you. He let your bikini bottom drop to the floor so that his bare hand would pump himself instead.

The way you're currently being overstimulated by Mingi's ever-thrusting dick sets him off immediately.

As if synced, when Wooyoung's cum hit your stomach, Mingi also released himself in you, mixing your essence and him together whilst still thrusting to ride his orgasm off.

When Mingi finally stopped thrusting, you could feel fatigue wash over you and your legs lost all its strength. All you could do is slump against Mingi as he caresses your thighs lovingly, whispering "good job"s into your ear.

Silence washed over the room as everyone calms themselves down from the event that had just unfold. No one was regretting anything, it's more like wonder. How one second you were all playing truth or dare and suddenly they're all fucking the girl who's supposed to be Wooyoung's fake girlfriend.

You were bordering on falling asleep when you suddenly felt your body being lifted up into familiar arms.

"I'll take her up and clean her, mind cleaning up?" Mingi asked towards the rest of them as he stood up to get you to your shared room.

The last thing you heard before closing your eyes were the other seven agreeing to clean up. The smell of sex was still thick in the air, while it would've been disgusting to your normal self, right now it just set your brain to immediately sleep.

"Rest up, princess, we'll take care of you," Mingi chuckled, pulling you closer into his chest as he walked up the stairs.

You didn't know why Mingi said 'we' instead of 'I'. But it felt nice.

It felt right.

taglist :

@raysanshine @peachy-maia @xuxiable @90s-belladonna @theclawofaraven @rae-baby @sungiehan @felix-kithes @nycol-ie @superstarw99 @skkrtnawrskkrt @viv-atiny @the7thcrow @stfu-xeena @laurademaury @multihoe-net @daisyhwa @scoupshushushu @whyisquill @bikiniholic @yunhorights @exfolitae @simplewonderland @verycooldog2 @perfectlysane24 @hannahdinse8 @tannie13@aka-minhyuk-kun @phebeedee @sweetlikeh0n3y @marsophilia @donghyuckanti27 @se-onghwa @malewife-supremacy @hyunsukream

okay, @rae-baby , where are you?? Why can't I tag you anymore ??

a/n : I called this chapter countryside orgy too much to the point that I changed it to countryside orgy from the original life's a beach. y'all fucking ruined me.

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difeisheng · 3 years

Note

Hi, can I ask for fic ideas? What if Jin Ling were born as a girl and become the real Young Mistress from Lan Ling (but with the same characteristics)? What would change from the story? Do you ship Jin Ling with any of the junior? Would Jiang Cheng treat her differently from the canon Jin Ling? Sorry for the random ask, qi- ling.......

HiI I think this is an interesting premise and I haven't considered it before. Some changes I think this AU would create:

Depending on how stuffy the Jin are, if Jin Ling is a girl they might bypass her right to sect inheritance entirely. Although I don’t think think Jin Guangyao would advocate for that, and her claim as Jin Zixuan’s only child and a legitimate one is still strong I think. Just something to consider for worldbuilding .

Jin Ling would probably look more like Jiang Yanli. Or maybe she has looks closer to Jiang Cheng’s sharper ones, in which case her appearance is more like Yu Ziyuan. Either way she’s a more tragic reminder of what happened to her family and Jiang Cheng would definitely be even sadder about it (Dunno if the genetics run this way but I do think it would be fun for Jin Ling to have Jin Guangyao’s eyes).

There’s a decent chance Jiang Cheng might be even stricter with Jin Ling, because she’s going to be the future sect leader in a fairly misogynstic clan and a corrupt one as well. She has to be able to prove herself and show she has the strength to get people to do what she needs. This doesn’t mean Jiang Cheng needs to repeat the actions of the previous generation though. His treatment of Jin Ling does stem from the same logic Yu Ziyuan once had-- that you must be harsh to keep them safe and make sure they’re successful-- but in canon Jin Ling is not scared of Jiang Cheng and that should not change here. Jiang Cheng would be even more protective of his niece, honestly. He just worries a lot and doesn’t know how to get that across effectively.

Jin Guangyao might teach Jin Ling a few things about demeanor and behavior and sneaking around to your advantage, since she’ll be underestimated as a woman. This post discusses how Jin Guangyao used those tactics himself.

Qin Su and Jin Ling relationship!! She would have been involved in a decent part of Jin Ling’s life in-canon, and I’m so sad that we never got to see any hints of that. Here they’d probably be even closer. You could have aunt and niece afternoons! Qin Su is the Cool ShenshenTM and the primary female figure in Jin Ling’s life to look up to. Also I need more content for her just in general.

Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling’s relationship would probably be better from the start, because if Wei Wuxian was faced with Jin-guniang on Dafan Mountain instead of Jin-gongzi, I think he’d have been less careless with his words. Even if she’s being a brat I doubt he’s been raised to lash out at a teenage girl that way. And once he learns who Jin Ling is, his protective Da-jiu instinct is definitely activated up to Jiang Cheng’s level. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten stabbed in Jinlintai if his bonding with Jin Ling beforehand had been more solidly founded.

Minor detail here, but maybe Yi City would have had a larger impact on Jin Ling, because A-Qing was around her age and she suffered through all that tragedy.

You asked about ships with the juniors, and I do lowkey ship Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi. I think they’re cute lovable disasters together and them falling for each other would be amusing. Whether Jingyi is also genderbent here or whether he’s just a chaotic sappy teenage boy trying his best is up to you.

This was fun to answer, I hope there’s something in here that helps you with writing ideas! Thanks for the ask!

#OKAY what im really trying to get at in the third point is that jiang cheng is even more all bark and no bite for jin ling #jin ling is a jiujiu's girl and has jiang cheng wrapped around her little finger #mdzs #cql #jin ling #jiang cheng #jin guangyao #qin su #jin ling and his jiujiu #ashton answers #anon

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angelvyxen · 3 years

Text

An Idea & An Announcement

Sooo… the vibe on here has been off for weeks—damn near months & I don’t know about you all, but I miss when Tumblr was fun and carefree. Before all the arguments, pedo/incest questions, and people randomly doing weird, unneeded shit.

I came around late 2020 & I miss the fun vibe that was here up until late last summer. Maybe fall if we want to stretch it.

I miss the era of “Do you think Melo would??”/ “What do you think Melo is like during xyz” questions. Where everyone could be open & freaky, but it was controlled and fun.

So, I present to you *dramatic drum roll 🥁*

DipsAngelss First Annual Freak-Nik-Friday

We’ve all been lacking some fun so this Friday, February 18th, I’m hosting our own little freaknik!

If you are unaware of what a freaknik is, it’s an annual festival hosted in ATL where people come and let loose. Good food, good music, good vibes, and great outfits. Lots of hoochie mama activities too 😌

Friday is your time to do whatever, we’re here to have fun!

• Open Discussions; ask whatever burning questions you have regarding NBA players or athletes in general, anything is welcome! My responses will be set up like short imagines Ex: if you ask “Do you think ____ is into ____” I’d answer with my personal opinion & then write a short blurb for you regarding that person & topic. Think of the responses as your own personal mini imagine.

OD’s are also a place where we can discuss anything, personal or not. The idea is to create a sisterhood, so reach out for advice!

• Games; Me and @hiphop-rap-and-basketball have a few games in store for us to play together, all mainly imagine based. Games will be revealed Friday Night!

• Vibes; I want this to be fun for all so of course we have to personalize this event. Send in a picture of what you’re ‘wearing’ to the freaknik Friday night. Come prepared to stomp on necks, nothing subpar.

Rules

Absolutely NO mentions incest, pedophelia, necrophilia, or zoophilia!

Don’t bully other anons and or people, as the poster reads, leave your drama at the door, if you have beef with someone take that up with their PMs, not mine!

Leave all of your negativity at the door. If things get out of hand & I’m ending things immediately.

Special thank you goes out to Lys, @hiphop-rap-and-basketball, for being willing to cohost this with me! She a real one. Sometime during the event we’ll be auctioning off the option to have a custom imagine written by whoever you choose so stay tuned for that. I also might drop a few imagines here & there depending on how the night goes.

For any questions you can hit my inbox and I’ll get to you tonight, no later than tomorrow afternoon!

*For those who want to know, the long awaited Gelo BDSM imagine will be coming Friday night 🥰

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dailydaydreamings · 3 years

Text

Best in the Worst Way, Part 13

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

Okay, this took way way too long to write. A couple of things. A) language warning. B) I’m not a doctor. C) I hope I tagged everyone who wanted to be tagged! I tried! Lmk if not! D) I am a total knob with technology and I don’t know how to comment on my own posts without using my main account, so I’m not ignoring you I swear!

Just a couple more chapters, do you think they’re having girls or boys (or both)?

Bucky stood in the doorway of your bedroom, a bemused look across his face. His eyebrow twitched upward to say, are you okay with this?

Four weeks ago, the answer would have been a hard no. But you were four weeks into a strict bed rest. Steve spent the mornings at the compound and Bucky spent the mornings with you, and then they switched in the afternoons. You spent most of your time reading or learning to crochet, poorly. You were completely bored out of your mind.

So, you cracked a smile and shrugged a shoulder to let him know you weren’t 100% pleased with the situation.

Bucky’s mouth twitched into a slight smile, “Looks great, Steve.”

Steve looked up from where he sat at the end of the bed, painting your toenails. “You’re doing the other foot, this is a lot harder than it looks.”

You groaned, “How are you still on the first foot?” It had only been forty minutes.

Bucky laughed, “Let me get dinner started, okay? You two have fun.”

Your heart gave a small lurch. Bucky wasn’t okay. Not after your trip to the hospital.

He blamed himself.

You looked over at Steve, who had his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth he was concentrating so hard on your pinky toe. You kicked him in the chest with your other foot.

He blinked in surprise, “What was that for?”

You gave him an exasperated look, “Go talk to him.”

Steve looked down at your foot again, “Babe, he’s fine?”

You kicked him again. Harder. “He still blames himself for what happened, dumbass.”

It was no one’s fault really. If anyone was to blame it was your biology. But Steve had yelled at Bucky about the sex, blamed him for the bleeding, on the way to the hospital. Dr Lawrence had said the sex hadn’t caused it but nothing had been the same since. Bucky hadn’t slept in the same room as either of you since. He came in to check on you and Steve. He cracked jokes, made dinner, but kept his distance.

He was beating himself up for this and you weren’t going to take it anymore.

When Steve didn’t answer, you started to heave yourself up, “If you won’t go talk to him, I will.”

“No, no,” Steve put his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to sit. “I will okay. I’m sorry.”

An hour later, Bucky and Steve came in carrying food. Steve handed you a plate and settled in beside you, Bucky seemed to be hesitant to join. He stood beside the bed, ringing his hands nervously.

Your heart gave a little lurch, he did a really good job at making himself look small.

You opened your arm up to him, “Come sit with me, baby.”

He seemed to rock back and forth on his heels, “Every time I want to touch you, my head screams at me that you’re going to start bleeding again.”

You looked over at Steve, who hung his head slightly. He knew this and you’d beat his ass for it later.

“I’m okay, baby, I swear,” you lied through your fucking teeth. “Come sit with me, please.”

Bucky sat at the edge of the bed, not touching you. This would be a start tomorrow he would scoot an inch closer. In three days you’d be hip to hip. In a week he’d kiss your forehead. It would be okay.

But for now, you started with, “So can someone tell me something interesting please? Facebook can only keep me so entertained.”

———

Four Weeks Ago

Dr Laurence was wearing heels. At four am.

It was such an odd detail, but it was the first thing you noticed when you got to the hospital. You didn’t even make it to the compound. The hospital was closer.

Steve carried you into the ER, yelling frantically for help. You were placed on a gurney, and Dr Laurence was at your side a moment later. She was speaking quickly, but you weren’t sure what she way saying. She looked to Bucky and Steve for answers. She was putting gloves on, reaching for the ultrasound.

You were looking at her shoes. Valentino nude pumps, you’d seen them online two days ago and laughed at the price.

You were barely aware that the ultrasound probe had entered you.

Bucky was petting your hair.

You just stared at her shoes.

The moment you looked away, you would have to start to cope with Steve screaming at Bucky the whole way here. The way your sheets were stained with blood at home. The fact you had a house showing in the morning, and you were going to miss it. The fact you had a million unopened boxes of baby things in your apartment.

Your head just screamed the moment you looked away from Dr Laurence’s shoes, she would tell you your babies were dead.

Your ears rang.

Yesterday, they’d been so active. You were cursing their movements begging for a moment of reprieve. You’d do anything for a small kick right now.

“Y/n!” Dr Laurence looked up at you from between your legs.

You lifted your head from the bed, you tried to speak but no words came out.

She motioned at the ultrasound, “It looks like placenta previa. The bleeding seems to have stopped, but I’m going to get you a transfusion. We’re just looking for a heartbeat now...”

You frowned, placenta previa, that was something you’d read about. That was a normal risk, something that could happen to anyone. And the babies...

The familiar sound of their heartbeats filled your ears.

It was the most beautiful sound in the world.

That was it. The flood gates opened and you started to sob. Steve wrapped his arms around you first. Bucky was next, he embraced the two of you, kissing your forehead gently.

Their words filled your ears, setting a blanket of comfort over you.

“They’re okay, you’re okay.”

“It’ll be okay, you’ve got this.”

“Breathe, just breathe for now.”

“We love you so, so much.”

———

“Okay, we cannot be this unorganized, guys seriously?” You pinched the bridge of your nose.

Busy and Steve stood at the end of the bed, their arms crossed over their chest. You sat in bed, your hair in the messiest of buns, looking down at the mess they’d brought you to sort through.

“Well what do you propose?” Steve asked.

“For starters,” You motioned at the mountain of baby clothes in front of you, “Why do we have eight different outfits that were brining to the hospital. There’s two babies.” You held up two fingers for emphasis.

Bucky scratched his head, “This mommy blog said you need two outfits, in case one of them doesn’t fit. Plus, we don’t know if we’re having a boy or a girl.”

“They should look cute when coming home,” Steve asserted.

You only blinked. If someone had said this would be your life one year ago, you would have died laughing.

“Okay, fine,” you grabbed the nearest shirt. “We could go gender neutral, you know that right?”

It’s not like you had any shortage of gendered clothing though either. Tony had loaded you up with boy clothing, swearing you would be having two. Natasha had done the same for girl clothing. And Steve had managed to pick out the most extravagant outfits from each section.

“We can,” Steve conceded. “But I want us to have options. See what they look like when they come out.”

Your nose crinkled. You fucking hated that. Come out. Like they would just slide out of you, no issues.

You rubbed your temples, “Okay, but I refuse to have my kids dress matchy matchy their entire lives. They can if they want, but I will never make them wear the same outfit.”

Bucky chuckled, coming to sit on the bed beside you, “That’s going to go over well.”

You glared at him as he completely destroyed your pile of folded baby clothes.

Steve ran his hand through his hair aggressively, “But they’d look so cute.”

You shook your head, “Only if they want to. They need to have their own personalities.”

Steve looked ready to lose his mind, “But...pictures.”

You levelled him with your mom look. You’d been practicing. “I’ll give you Christmas cards. If the two of you also dress matchy matchy if we have a boys.”

“Deal,” Steve didn’t even hesitate.

You could picture it now. Two little boys in dorky ugly Christmas sweaters and beige khakis, their hair spiked up and Steve and Bucky marching to a tee. Oh it would be glorious, but you realized a moment too late you had forgotten yourself in that picture.

You cleared your throat, “Okay, names.”

Bucky reached over, rubbing his hand over where the babies were most active. A slight smile played on his lips as he leaned over to brush his lips over your bare skin.

You tried your best to ignore the shiver of pleasure that went down your spine.

“I don’t care,” Bucky murmured, “I think we should see what they look like when they come out.”

“No,” you ran your hand through his hair. “We pick now or at least get some options.”

Steve came to sit on your other side, disrupting the rest of your pile. You rolled your eyes, so much for nothing.

“Poppy?” He suggested.

You shook your head, “I like Penelope, not Poppy. I don’t believe in naming a kid a nickname. It feels final.”

They both looked at you funny, but you stood by it.

“What about Carter,” you suggested.

“No!” Both boys said in unison. You stopped, thinking about why that name wouldn’t work before bursting out laughing.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Steve!” You reached over to stroke his face. “Not Carter.”

He chuckled, “It’s not a bag suggestion. I’d love to honour Peggy, but Sharron might think I named them after her.”

You burst out laughing. What an awkward situation that would be. One you’d pay to see.

“Okay, guys,” you snapped your fingers a couple of times, “We need a couple more names. Some more ideas. Let’s go.”

The name started flowing, and you started feeling more comfortable. Aaron, Grace, Henry, Bonnie, Andrew, Katherine.

You relaxed into your pillows. Your babies would have names. No matter what happened.

———

The boys stayed awake at your side while you slept.

You woke a couple of hours, having only slept for what felt like a short moment to find the two of them drinking coffee and nibbling on muffins.

“You look like shit,” you commented, stretching an arm over your head.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, “Look in the mirror, sweetheart.”

You grasped your hand to you chest in mock hurt, “Oh, burn.” You said sarcastically.

Steve chuckled, getting up to come over and kiss your forehead, “We’re just glad you’re okay.”

You stroked his beard lovingly, “I’m okay, and now I’m worried about you two. I’m fine, go home and shower and sleep. Please.”

Steve pressed another kiss to your forehead before moving to sit down beside Bucky, “Not gonna happen, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not going to have the babies today. You’re useless to me tired. Go home. Please.”

Bucky shook his head, “We’ll take turns, how about that?”

You rolled your eyes, “You two need to talk and go get me some stuff. Please, let me worry about you two right now instead of myself. Just for a moment. It would make me feel better if you just got some rest at home.”

It took some more convincing, but they finally left. And you were left in peaceful silence. You looked down at your belly. One of the babies gave a swift kick. You smoothed over the spot gently, “I love you, please stay in there a while longer, okay?”

“We’re going to do everything in our power to do so,” Dr Laurence stood in the door way.

You smiled, “I can’t thank you enough for being here last night.”

She nodded, coming to sit on the stool by your bed. She didn’t look happy. You braced a hand protectively over your belly.

She tapped her tablet with a manicured nail, “I’m concerned.”

“Okay...?”

“I’m not going to be gentle. Your blood pressure is through the roof,” she clarified. “You’re at risk for preeclampsia, your labs suggest that this half of your pregnancy is going to be hard. You’re in for a world of hurt. And I don’t think delivery is going to be any easier. I don’t think a vaginal delivery will be an option. You will be on bed rest until you give birth, and I doubt you’ll make it to thirty five weeks. In all honestly, I’ll be impressed if you make it to thirty. But your medical history and labs also suggests a c-section is also not a good option.”

You let out a little laugh, leaning back against the headboard. “The last time I saw you, you were singing praises for how well things were going.”

Her mouth tightened into a thin line, “I also said you should be taking it easy and lowering your stress levels.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, “Are you suggesting I did something wrong?”

Dr Laurence raked a hand through her hair, “I’m not saying you did, but I’m saying we need to start taking this seriously now because I’m not sure how to get the three of you through a safe delivery.”

Your mouth went dry. ‘The three of you,’ had always been you, Bucky, and Steve. It took on a whole new meaning when it was in reference to you and your children.

You may not have lost them last night, but you were well on your way.

“You’ll be on strict bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy,” Dr Laurences’ voice softened. “The good news is, the bleeding has stopped and you’ll be able to go home soon for a couple of weeks at least. We’ll do everything we can to get your blood pressure under control.”

Your hands shook as you reached up to wipe away a tear. “Not of a word of this to the boys.”

Her eyesbrows rose to her hairline, “They need to know so they can take care of you.”

You shook your head, “I have one who is a stiffling mother hen. If he’s worked up, so am I. And the other one is recovering from a major head trauma. He doesn’t remember everything in the last eighteen months. The only thing I can do for him now is to help him get back to where he was.”

“No,” Dr Laurence shook her head. “You need to take this seriously now or you will not make it through delivery. If they think you’re fine and brush it off as a little blood, you will end up in a much worse situation.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “We’re not going to play this game, doctor. I will take this seriously and if you put me on bed rest, I will follow it. I just don’t want the risks exposed to my boyfriends. And, you do get to tell them without my consent.”

Dr Laurence looked like she was ready to throw her tablet. “Fine, but the moment things start going south, you will end up in hospital supervised bed rest.”

You glared right back at her, “Looking forward to it.”

————

You sat between your boys watching TV when it happened.

You paused, your food halfway to your face as you felt another tightening in your stomach. They had been happening all day, but all of the sudden you were aware of one thing, it was far too painful for it not to be a contraction.

You dropped your fork onto the duvet.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked jumping to his feet.

You quirked your head to the side, looking down at your belly, “I think I’m in labour.”

“Shit!” Steve was suddenly gone.

Bucky calmly took your plate and fork and put them on the side table, “You sure?”

“Mmhmmm,” you hummed, as you let out a long breath. “We probably have hours to go though.”

Bucky nodded, “Let me call Dr Laurence.”

Your mouth tightened. She was the last person you wanted to see. You especially didn’t want to hear her gloat that she was right, you’d only made it to thirty-two weeks. Damn her.

Steve’s head popped in the room, “But it’s too early!” And he was gone again.

Your eyebrows rose to your hair line, he was taking this as well as you expected.

On your other side, Bucky put his phone to his chest and said, “Dr Laurence wants you to come in right away.”

You pinched your nose, “I don’t want to labour for the next twelve hours there when I can do it from home.”

Bucky relayed that information to her. And then asked, “Has your water broken?”

You shook your head.

Steve walked through the bedroom, going into the bathroom, talking a mile a minute. “—and we don’t have enough nipple cream!” Was all you caught. You could hear drawers being rummaged through in the bathroom.

“She says to come in anyways,” Bucky relayed to you. “And she says you’re clearly not taking this seriously.”

You rolled your eyes, of course she did.

“And we need another bathroom,” Steve murmured as he walked out of the room again.

“Fine,” you snapped. “And go calm Steve down.”

Another contraction hit hard. Your breath hitched.

Your birth plan, if you were having a vaginal delivery, was to go all natural, but now you were thinking an epidural sounded wonderful.

“You okay?” Bucky rubbed your back.

You took deep breaths, but nodded weakly. “Let’s go, please.”

He nodded, leaving the room to get Steve and your bags, but Steve stood at the door, bags in hand and simply said, “We need to go, guys.”

Bucky came around the bed to help you up. His arms around you, you barely made it out the bedroom before you felt a rush of fluids.

“Well, fuck.” Bucky mumbled.

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parchmentedpetrichor · 3 years

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➳april’s fool ♡

in which fred weasley is in love with y/n l/n, the girl he happens to tease and insult profusely for her attention.

fred weasley x gryffindor!fem!reader

word count: ±4.3k

tw: food, fireworks, pranking, fred being a bully, tad bits of swearing

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my masterlist:D

ft. minnie, dumbledore and severus

yeah, your grandmama probably know me

get more bottles, these bottles are lonely

it's a moment when I show up, got 'em sayin', "wow"

april’s fool

“tomorrow is april fools,” dumbledore sighs.

“you know what that means...?” mcgonagall asks, her voice on edge.

“the twins,” snape replies quickly, not even bothered one bit as he sips his dark coffee.

“and their pranks,” dumbledore dramatically rolls over in his armchair.

“okay and?”

“they’re a hazard, severus!” mcgonagall replies.

“that doesn’t stop them.”

“what will stop them?” dumbledore ponders, eyes faint with interest.

“you still have those weird buzzy fireworks right?” snape asks.

“of course.”

“and minnie, you have the cake mix your grandmother gave you?”

“still in my cupboard next to the biscuits.”

“excellent.”

y/n l/n listens from the other side of the door, grinning. she’s been called to mcgonagall’s lavish office for some business she hopes isn’t trouble, but the conversation the three are deeply invested in piques her interest.

she likes fun. the type of continuous laughter and uncontrollable fits of giggles at noon. that’s why she enjoys the pranks the twins play. they’re bold, sharp and reckless and have the undoubtable trademark of fred and george on them.

one too a many times she’s been on the receiving end of them. one time the twins had charmed the library so that she and other studious students could not find any books that they wanted or needed for a whole week.

another time, her hair had been dyed bright pink. she wasn’t a fan of it, but tried her best to rock it. it worked. y/n had received many compliments on her bubblegum pink locks.

she laughed it off a lot. whenever something quite embarrassing happened, it was usually funny.

even the snide remarks the older twin always cast her way.

including the time he called her a blackhead. well, multiple times.

“oi, l/n, looking like a blackhead.”

george had rolled his eyes at his brother before adding kindly, “at least you have nice hair. your tie’s always shiny too.”

she had just laughed, “at least i’ve got the blackhead looks to pull pink hair off, weasley, you can’t even pull off ginger hair, and thanks, georgie. love ya.”

fred had looked taken aback, but y/n still scowls at the memory. she gets she isn’t pretty, but there is a line you don’t cross when trying to insult someone.

he always calls her the most awful nicknames too; body parts that align with her name and random pieces of rubbish she isn’t bothered to remember.

she shakes herself of her thoughts and draws herself up, knocking thrice on the door lightly.

“come in,” mcgonagall’s calm tone beckons.

“good afternoon professors!” she chirps, smiling at all three.

they smile back. even snape. they’re big fans of the girl, who’s studious but mischievous. albus dumbledore has always thought that y/n’s eyes always look like all she’s seen is a beautiful sunset.

“now you must wonder why i called you here,” mcgonagall starts.

“you see, how have you punished the weasley twins when they play all those pranks on you?” dumbledore eagerly asks.

y/n gives a light laugh, “i just prank them back. i won’t get detention for this, right?” she jokes.

they laugh, “of course you will,” snape jokes back and for a second y/n is surprised that severus snape, the ever so cold potions professor, is cracking jokes. especially to her.

“well then, i guess i can’t tell you how i prank them back then,” she drawls dramatically.

“no, no, do tell, we’re, what do you young people say?” mcgonagall pauses, “ahh yes! we’re all ears!”

y/n bursts out laughing, “okay, i usually do something that’s subtle enough but still very noticeable. they need to be anonymous too, or that’ll start prank wars and i’m only looking for short term pleasure really. one time, i dumped a whole bunch of polyjuice potion in both their little goblets. fred became george and george became fred. they were so confused.”

mcgonagall is impressed.

“can you bake?” dumbledore asks and y/n shakes her head for a long time.

“can’t bake for my sanity.”

“awesome. that is what i thought too,” dumbledore answers and y/n smiles.

a single knock sounds. it’s proper and formal.

“come in!” mcgonagall yells.

draco malfoy in all his glory steps into the room, eyes alight with concern, ever so indifferent.

y/n knows him from quidditch. they’ve become relatively good friends, though she thinks he is very busy with his home life. she also knows that there’s more to him than the facade he has.

“afternoon,” he nods and gives a charming smile.

“now, draco, i understand your mother had enrolled you in baking classes,” snape says.

draco nods.

“you must bake a cake,” mcgonagall hands him the cake mix.

she hands y/n the box of fireworks and winks.

“good day professors! make sure to be at breakfast tomorrow!” y/n shouts, dragging draco with her to the kitchens.

soon draco is laughing with y/n, at her atrocious puns and lightly placed jokes, finding himself very much happy. he’s not interested in her romantically, he simply enjoys her company. he’s even sharing some funny stories of his own too.

“...and i told him, to precisely fuck off.”

“so that’s how you deal with him!”

“oh no, he didn’t stop. he kept bugging me.”

“what did you do then?”

“i cast a muffliato charm on him.”

y/n bursts into laughter as they pass the gryffindor common room, quickly hiding the box of fireworks in her cloak as she spots two red heads quietly snickering by the fat lady.

they notice the unlikely pair scurrying down the stairs.

“hey, google eyes!” fred shouts.

y/n doesn’t know fred well enough to decide if that greeting is dedicated to herself, so she continues upon her way.

“weasley,” draco states.

“huh?” y/n fakes oblivion.

draco jerks his head in the way of the twins, where fred is smirking handsomely, leaning against the wall in a model-like fashion.

george is shaking his head in dismay.

“i said googly eyes!” fred shouts again.

y/n won’t lie, she thinks fred has undoubtedly good looks and his ginger hair is cute. he’s just a terrible person. to her, at least. she knows she’s biased, she’s often seen fred comforting ginny after a bad fight with a boyfriend, and from what she’s heard from alicia and angelina and katie, he’s funny too.

she whips out her glasses and stares deadpan at him, before rolling her eyes and running with draco down the stairs, laughing like madmen.

they finish baking late at night, and waving her wand smartly over the cake, y/n produces a charm that will make the fireworks activate as soon as the cake is cut open.

draco smiles as he pipes purple and orange roses, writing a ‘happy bday fred and george’ in chocolate letters.

they add lots of sprinkles, hoping to seem like avid admirers of the twins.

“does miss l/n and misters malfoy need any assistance?” a house elf asks.

draco just about opens his mouth to snap a ‘no’ when y/n gives him a silencing look.

“thank you rosemarie, but that is not needed, you are welcome to watch and talk with us though,” y/n politely answers, giving her a grin.

the house elf sniffles, “miss l/n is too nice! rosemarie will make some hot chocolate for her! pretty hair!”

y/n laughs, “thank you very much, rosemarie. i think mister malfoy would also like some hot chocolate, with a tiny bit of firewhiskey, if that’s alright with you,” she winks at draco who just scoffs in reply.

when they’re finished with the cake and the hot chocolate, y/n enters the gryffindor common room. angelina takes the cake and wraps it up in a box and nice wrapping paper. she sends it flying to the twins’ usual spot on the gryffindor table.

“thanks angie!” y/n smiles, getting up from the cozy spot near the fire in the common room.

“why are you going? we’re staying up till midnight for the twins’ birthday; wanna join?” angelina asks.

y/n shakes her head, “i’m not too close with them, it seems like a rather intimate ceremony,” she keeps her words fluffy and light. really, she would join any birthday celebration, but she didn’t think she could handle the constant insults and annoying comments fred always made about her. and this would have been completely acceptable if she had done something to any one of the weasleys, but she hadn’t. she even regards ginny weasley as a little sister and was invited to one of ginny’s infamous slumber parties. okay, she might have a little crush on him for his joke-ish nature, but it’s nothing she can’t get over. he’s out of her league, for sure, she thinks. and terribly rude. she doesn’t understand why she still harbours those feelings for him. maybe because that time adrian pucey was mocking her for her ‘blood purity’ he stood up for her. or that time she hurt herself at quidditch and fred stayed up with her bandaging her wound. he cared when it mattered, she guesses.

“i’m sure they would love you there.”

“fat chance,” she scoffs, “have a good night!”

she goes to her own dormitory up the stairs. she’s well known in gryffindor house, but for different reasons than the twins may be. although she’s close with angie and alicia, she’s not close with the twins. mainly because she’s always studying, playing quidditch, and doing prefect things.

being on a quidditch team with fred weasley is bearable. mainly because she’s the captain.

she’s stopped by a large hand on her shoulder. the owner of the hand swivels and suddenly a grinning fred is revealed.

“where’re you going?” fred weasley’s annoying voice pronounces.

“the sahara desert,” she snaps back dryly, “you’re in the way of my world exploration.”

“am i, really?”

“‘course,” she reigns her attitude in, “nice night, isn’t it?”

“for you? never.”

she scowls. fred watches in utter amusement as she takes a deep breath and charmingly smiles.

“dearest freddie, will you please allow me to get to my dorm so i can have some sleep?”

fred’s heart skips a little at the nickname but shakes his head.

“what’s the password?”

y/n sighs. “i don’t know. y/n is a blackhead. googly eyes. whatevers.”

fred lets out a loud laugh. y/n finds herself trying hard not to laugh with him.

she turns around, ready to find her hufflepuff friend that has a spare bed in their dormitory, knowing fred is really stubborn.

“that’s not the password.”

“well, good night.” she walks off, before intensely diving in a style harry potter himself would be proud of, onto the stairs and running up the dorms laughing.

fred stands at the bottom of the stairs, dumbfounded, his jaw hanging open.

“close your mouth, flies will be caught,” he heard the giggling voice of y/n.

“close yours and you’ll look better,” he insults back.

“oh shut up. we know i’m the prettier one. and that’s saying something.”

the next morning, fred and george wake up to presents, a rowdy common room, and a nice cake sitting waiting for them on the gryffindor table.

for the first time, y/n takes a seat opposite them, her eyes alight with the familiar mischief they always held. she steals glances at the professors, who were beaming down with interest, as if they shared an inside joke. draco malfoy has an odd smirk on his pale face.

all eyes are on them as they cut open the cake. with a bang, fireworks come flying out of the cake in all directions, sending crumbs and icing flying in the air and leaving soot on the twin’s faces. their ginger hair is covered neatly with white icing and the fireworks continue for a calamitous five minutes. everyone’s too busy laughing and trying to dodge the flying cake to see that y/n l/n and draco malfoy are laughing quietly in a corner together, both with spells like umbrellas.

fred’s eyes, however, are trained on y/n, who’s rolling over in laughter. he quickly casts a scourgify on himself and george, and strides casually over to her and malfoy, the usual lazy smirk on his face as he hears ‘draco ohmygosh that was the best. your cake decos are on point! d’ya think he’ll ever bully me again?’. that confirms his suspicions. she did play this prank on him. and it makes him feel fuzzy inside.

his face then contorts into a frown. she thinks he bullies her?

“i wouldn’t say he bullies you, y/n.”

he smiles. never mind.

“but it isss! i can assure you, there is absolutely nothing nice ‘bout being called a frame!”

fred snorts at the time y/n had been gushing adorably over a picture frame that was embellished with gold and bronze flowers to angelina. he had went over and in an attempt to catch her attention, said ‘you’re a frame’.

sure, he was good at flirting, but not to the girls he really really liked.

“that’s fucking funny,” malfoy laughs.

“oh shut it draco, your face is funny. but yeah, i should probably ask him to start fresh.”

he decides to interrupt their conversation.

“ask who to start fresh?” he butts in.

y/n doesn’t even look surprised, “in fact, you, fred, because i’m not really sure if i’ve done anything wrong to you or anything, and by my memory i don’t think i have and you keep being rude and stuff. if i have, i’m really sorry for it and i’m sorry that i hurt you and all. if we can y’know, start over, and maybe be friends?” she catches the unreadable look in fred’s eyes and hesitates, “or maybe not, that’s okay, we don’t need to!” she gives a small laugh, “er, sorry for ever bringing it up?”

the earnestness of her tone and the wistful look in her eyes makes fred fall a little harder. ever since he saw her nervously fiddling with her robes in first year, he’s been smitten.

there’s a silence. malfoy has slipped off, the sneaky bastard.

fred simply takes y/n’s hand, giving her a look as if to ask for permission.

she swallows and nods.

they’re in the courtyard, which is sunny and light. flowers are blooming everywhere.

“can i kiss you?” fred asks.

y/n’s eyebrows go up. “what?”

“can i kiss you?” fred repeats patiently.

“as in kiss? k-i-s-s?” y/n asks, eyes wide with suspicion and curiosity.

“yep,” he chuckles, “crazy, aren’t i?”

“yeah, you’re crazy.”

“really? can i kiss you?”

“i’ve never really kissed anyone.”

“i guessed that.”

her eyebrows furrowed in hurt, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i’ll tell you if you let me kiss you.”

“there better be a good reason because i was saving it for someone special.”

“i need a yes, love.”

she huffs, “yes.” she won’t tell him that she has a crush on him, because to be honest, she still isn’t sure if this is a prank or not.

she surprised when fred tilts her head up ever so gently, a smile on his face.

this kiss is short and sweet. he tastes like cinnamon.

when they’ve let go, fred notices the light pink dusted over her cheeks. he smirks.

“you have to tell me why you thought i’ve never kissed anyone,” she said, eyes flashing in deep thought.

“such a beautiful person as you does not deserve kisses from anyone.”

“...”

fred took this as a sign to go on. “the reason i’ve always teased you endlessly is because i want your attention. i didn’t think you’d give it to me any other way. if you haven’t noticed, i’m in love with you. i think you’re absolutely beautiful, both ways. i love it when you frown and get annoyed, even if you rarely do, i love it when you study so hard your face makes this really concentrated look. i love it especially when you laugh and smile and joke and play pranks. even if they’re on me.”

“...” she was studying his movements. inside her brain, a frenzy was going on. part of her brain- the ever so optimistic part, was screaming happily, and the logical part was using body language to analyse whether he was lying or not.

eyes? their honey brown colour was glistening with affection and truth, an expression so dainty on his face.

a quaint little smile was on his lips, a small one, a genuine one. it was different to all the other smiles she’d seen him smile.

he wasn’t acting, she decided. if he was, he should take up a job in broadway.

“y/n?”

her brows were furrowed. she’d never been confessed to as genuinely as this before.

if they started this type of relationship would he still be mean and insult her all the time?

“i-i need time. to figure this out.”

he doesn’t look disappointed, she thinks. instead he looks down at her with... adoration?

“of course, sweetness, anything, i’ll wait for you.”

she smiles, “thank you, freddie.”

☆

it’s been a few days since fred’s confessed to her. she’s still unsure if he was joking or not. why?

at this moment, she’s watching him giggle with angelina johnson. it seems like he’s forgotten everything and anything. he’s gotten closer to her. maybe he’s lost feelings for y/n? she can’t blame angie, she’s a wonderful girl. if he likes her, that’s fine too. suddenly her feelings for him become very clear. she like-likes him. and it’s a bit too late.

but maybe he doesn’t like angie in that way? maybe he’s still into her?

y/n knows molly weasley raises her children with patience. she should trust that fred’s waiting for her.

but then again, she’s never gonna be as special as angie johnson. she’s just a ever so polite and outgoing nerd. someone who’s foolish enough to prank. angie’s smart, confident and funny and terribly patient. and effortlessly beautiful. she’s got the true gryffindor touch. and angie’s been one of fred’s best friends since day one. she’s always gonna be number 1.

that’s ok. she’ll accept it. she likes angie anyway. it was probably a joke anyway.

she couldn’t be jealous, just a bit dismayed that it wasn’t genuine. whatever, she thinks. we can just go back to how we were before. or not.

and it’s relatively easy. they never really saw much of each other anyway. she’ll get over this tiny little liking.

it’ll just be like normal. none of this happened. none of it. she grimaces bitterly, damning fred for his stupid games. should’ve known this was another of his pranks. but his acting though, certainly very good.

she smiles to herself.

“knock it off, y/n, you’re here to learn, not to love.”

and that answer, is satisfactory.

she gets up from her spot on the gryffindor table rather abruptly, saying goodbye to her friends, and makes her way to the kitchens. she knows she won’t be alone, she’ll talk to hansel and gretel, the twins that cook with the house elves every dinner.

they’re cleaning up as she walks in, book in hand.

“hi hans, g!” she calls, as she rolls up the sleeves of her sweater to help them with the dishes.

“y/n!” gretel gives her a hug with soapy arms and y/n giggles.

“how are both of you?” y/n asks.

“good, good, potions though...” hansel trails off and they all laugh.

“potions is always like that,” y/n agrees, “it’s supposed to be really hard for newts, so you can’t really blame the subject.”

“i’m thinking of dropping divination,” gretel says.

“yeah, that’s wise, gretel buns,” hansel teases and gretel scowls.

“divination is an easy subject, gretel, you just need to make random stuff up. i saw this weird bear thing in polly’s tea leaves, it wasn’t in the textbook. i told trelawney it was a symbol that a stranger would come and whip polly off her feet, with a whip the colour of the rarest german emeralds, leaving her absolutely smitten. i got full marks,” y/n laughs.

they laugh too, and soon a light flowing conversation is shared over cups of hot chocolate.

this is repeated for quite a few days and y/n even invites polly, marla and lenox, her best friends, to join. it’s a delicate, nice kind of week, one that suits her current struggles.

when the weekends roll around, hansel and gretel suggest that they all sit at the hufflepuff table. they share jokes and quips over the food, y/n reading a book as she bites happily into apple pie.

“pfft,” her lips upturn ever so slightly at the quote that the character makes.

fred watches her from the gryffindor table, utterly confused. y/n’s been avoiding him. he sees the flashes of hurt that run through her eyes whenever she sees him, and the quick grin that’s far too fake that follows. she’s been reading a lot more and he never sees her anymore.

he wonders what he’s doing wrong. so as he sees her walking with her friends to hogsmeade, he calls for her.

“y/n!”

her friends giggle as they see him, but she gives him a fleeting glance and raises her eyebrows at them, shaking her head, before profusely apologising to each one of them.

she approaches him warily, with all practicality in mind. she leads with her heart, but her head protects her.

fool me once, shame on you.

fool me twice, shame on me.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he states.

“what would you expect?” she snaps, “isn’t this all a good laugh for you anyway?”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you know what i mean, this was all a joke, wasn’t it? fooling my poor little heart which you know has a crush on you. my head simply won’t allow it. admit it, and we can both move on with our lives,” her tone is sharp and cold, her eyes burning with fury and hurt, “i may seem gullible, and i am,” she gave a short laugh, “but when i notice, don’t even try to lie.”

“this wasn’t a joke, love.”

“don’t call me that, and you and i both know it is. your acting though, absolutely superb!”

“what makes you think this was a prank, y/n? you were the one who asked for time.”

“yes, and the time made me realise that i had feelings for you despite all the teasing AND the fact you couldn’t possibly be genuine!” y/n says exasperatedly, her fury dissolving quickly, “you looked so in place with angie and everyone that it’s so obviously some sort of fun thing you did to try to get back at me!”

“angie?”

“a-and everyone else.”

“angie?” fred’s eyes were amused.

“you know, angelina, as in johnson.”

“angie?”

y/n shrugs, “you did bring her to the yule ball last year.”

“angie??!!!” fred was full on smirking now, as if trying to receive a real response.

“i think you like her, okay?! are we done here? i’d very much like a good book from f&b,” y/n sighs.

“i’ll accompany you to flourish and botts. why would you think i like her? didn’t i just confess to you?”

“yeah but it seemed kinda...” y/n trails off, not wanting her insecurities to come off as compliment fishing, “kinda far-fetched.”

“meaning?” fred knows exactly what she means.

“you know!”

“oh but i don’t,” he smiles innocently.

“well, you’re you!”

“is that supposed to be an insult?” he asks, faking a look of hurt rather well as y/n looks alarmed.

“no, no, as in, you’re nice to look at, and you’ve always insulted me and been so nice and cool to everyone. are you for real?”

“nice to look at?” a cocky grin is on his face now, much more noticeable than the slight blush that was creeping up his face.

“is that the only thing you could pick up?”

“nice to look at? what’s up with me repeating myself today?”

y/n lets out an agitated sigh. he doesn’t know, he’s blunt and straightforward. she likes cushioning her words.

“y’know, handsome? good looking?”

“my middle names.” another smirk to conceal the blushing.

y/n smiles. “of course, everyone knows it.”

it makes fred uncomfortable. her light tone is a bit menacing too.

“only joking.”

“i’m sure everyone does know it, darling.”

y/n is too busy looking at the dog that passes by to hear him, rambling quietly to herself over the cute scottish terrier.

“sorry, what was that?”

“aren’t i cuter than the dog?”

“nup.”

“really?” fred casually slings an arm over y/n’s shoulders, having to stoop a little lower to reach her.

“i think so.”

“well i’ll tell you something love, i think you’re absolutely stunning.”

“some love potion you’re on.”

“uh huh, the love potion is called love, sweetness.”

“so you’re for real?”

“as real as you and me.”

“you’re cheesy. this isn’t a prank right?”

“not at all, i love you.”

“i-i don’t think i love you just yet, but i think it’s possible,” y/n bites her lip, anxiously awaiting his response.

she tilts her head to look at him.

he’s beaming. he looks more handsome than ever, a sweet smile etched on his face as he looks down at her in utter adoration.

“you have a crush on me!” he pulls her into a hug and giggles like a little girl, kissing the top of her head.

she’s engulfed by the smell of burning wood and cinnamon and immediately feels safe in his strong arms.

“how’d you say we go on a date? so i can show how sorry i am for all the times i called you googly eyes and played pranks on you.”

“i’ll check to see if the girls are okay with it,” y/n replies, turning her head to see her friends. they’re gone.

“they are. i asked them to shoo off before i approached you. is that a yes?”

y/n nods, “of course, freddie.”

“i love you.”

she laughs, “you really are april’s fool.”

“i’m your april’s fool.”

he buries his nose in the crook of her neck to stop her from seeing his blushing red face.

#fredweasley #fred weasley x y/n #frederick weasley #fred weasley x reader #gryffindor #hansel and gretel #fanfic #harry potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff #angelina johnson #alicia spinnet #y/n #harrypotter #hogsmeade

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glasshearts-selflove · 3 years

Text

Lesson #2: Girl, Get A Hobby!

Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking, "how the hell does this have to do with learning how love yourself?" Well let me explain. Something that I'm learning about myself is that I am so bored with myself. One of the reasons that I hate myself is because I'm so boring! I don't have a hobby - you know something that makes me forget to look at the clock, eat, or even get up to use the bathroom. The last hobby I remember having was back in middle school, and that was ballet dancing and video gaming. I remember the absolute joy I would have coming home from school, running up to my room and playing the Sims 3 all afternoon until it was time to go ballet class. Another hobby that I had - which probably isn't surprising - was writing. I remember staying up late at night and writing a fanfic about the youtuber that I had a crush on that week. Then whenever I was tired of writing, I would open up Wattpad and read fanfics written by other middle school girls that also had too much time on their hands. Now I am admitting this not because I want to completely embarrass myself on the internet, but because it correlates to the lesson. When I was younger I didn't find myself to be boring. As a matter of fact, I thought I was pretty interesting and well-versed. I would go to school the following day and tell all my friends how much I progressed on my Sims family or described my next chapter of my fanfic. This is something that I have lost over the years. I quit ballet because my family was moving to a new city, I stopped writing fanfic because it became embarrassing, and I stopped playing sims because my computer crapped out. Ever since then I never tried to pick up those hobbies again or even try new hobbies. I want reignite that spark and love I had for those activities. Whether I pick up those activities again or try something new, I want to do something worthwhile and fun.

Again, my partner was able to pick up on this issue - I think he truly is my personal therapist - but he pointed out to me that when we first met one of the questions that I ask him was, "what do you like to do?" He was able to answer that question with no issues - because he is REALLY into video gaming - but when reciprocated, I wasn't able to answer the question. I quite literally said, "I don't know, I'm kind of boring." Like who answers like that?! Anyways since we've been together I still haven't picked up a hobby, if anything sitting in my boyfriend's apartment and not doing anything but watching TV has become my new hobby. And to be frank, I am not okay with that. Now that's not to say that TV watching can't be a hobby, as a matter of fact TV analysis is an actual career - but it's personally not something that I'm into. In order to beat this boredom and get my spark back I came up with a list of hobbies that I would like to try, or get back into.

Unfortunately, we weren't warned as children that a hard truth of growing up is that we can slip into this self-destructive and vicious cycle of everyday mundane life. We all watched movies as children thinking that being an adult is fun, you can drink and party and travel and buy nice expensive things - but the harsh truth is that unless you have a rich daddy funding your lifestyle, you have work... a lot. I was not fortunate enough to be born into a rich and successful family where I can do all those things with ease, I was born and raised in your average and everyday middle-class family. Therefore, I was forced into the work force... like basically every other adult in America, and much like most adults, I absolutely hate my job. Okay, maybe not hate, but it's not something I can see myself doing for the next 30+ years until I retire. However, I need to make the most of my current opportunity until the next great venture comes my way. Meaning, I can't necessarily change my actual job or what it entails but I can change and control what I do in my free time. Afterwork, I have this tendency to just sit at home, watch TV, and eat very unhealthy until it was time to shower and go to bed. It drives me absolutely crazy and it needs to change. My life is becoming so bleak that I almost hate coming home from work. I'm at work all day upset because I don't like my job and then I come home just as upset because I have nothing to look forward to. I want that joy back that I had when I was younger, the excitement of going home and playing my game or writing or going to ballet, I want that back.

As I mentioned earlier, I made a list of all the hobbies and activities I would like to try. I will admit it is a very long list, and I need to be realistic - one thing at a time. Hobbies can become very expensive, but is it worth it if you are doing something you absolutely love? I think so! Anyways I will share my top five that I am working on now:

Blogging/Writing

Aerial Yoga/Meditation

Learning Spanish

Painting/Calligraphy/Photography/Customizing Sneakers

Cooking/Baking

Now I know this seems like a lot more than five different hobbies, I just categorized them based on similarity. My idea behind doing this is because if I try one and I don't necessarily like it, I have something else I can try within that category. For example, if I tried painting and I realized its not meant for me then I can move on and try photography. It's still similar where it gets the creative juices flowing, but maybe I don't like painting and photography could be more of my muse. Now, I'm currently focusing on these five but my list can change - I am open to different options, who knows I might be more interested in something that isn't even on this list!

I highly encourage all of you to get a hobby, it's a form of self-care. Try something new, or jump back into something that you forgot about. Having something that you are passionate about and that you look forward to doing everyday will bring you closer to yourself and it will make you happier. I know that the few days that I've been writing and blogging again I can see a significant improvement in my mood and attitude. I have always had a passion for writing - even if it started as writing fanfic - and I can't believe that I ever stopped this. But I happy to be doing this again, and I'm excited to start exploring new hobbies!

#self love #self esteem #selfworth #self improvement #writing #writers #blogger #blogging #hobbies #self care #passion #advice

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

Text

Off the Record

Hello!! I am super excited to finally post my entry for @levihan-drabbles competition :D The prompt was super interesting and I had a tonne of fun writing this one!

The prompt I received was: Hange posts a picture of Levi somewhere and it becomes a meme.

(For those curious, this is the meme I used for inspiration)

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

Hange met Moblit in a small cafe a little way down the road from the newsroom. She was in good spirits—her morning had been productive; she'd made steady headway with research for her next interview, finished the final edits for a few smaller tabloid pieces she'd been meaning to brush up, attended three short, perfunctory meetings on tedious company policy, and laid the groundwork for another exciting interview opportunity.

She felt good. And now she had the pleasurable prospect of a hearty lunch, a passable cup of coffee, and perhaps best of all, Moblit's company. His company, and his camera.

Hange threw herself into the seat opposite Moblit the moment she spotted him, hunched over his laptop in a corner of the cafe. He lifted his coffee cup just in time for Hange to clatter against the table, the thin metal frame rattling precariously. She offered him a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," she said, and then, "got anything exciting?"

"I don't know about exciting. Interesting, maybe, but no breaking news."

Hange flagged down a passing waitress with one hand, and waved Moblit off with the other. "Doesn't matter, doesn't matter," she said, then paused to order a drink and her favourite sandwich. "Tell me anyway."

"I got a tip-off from a waiter at Sina's."

Hange's eyes sparkled behind her glasses. She sat forward in her chair, folding her arms on the table top as she leaned closer. "Who?"

"Take a guess."

Hange grinned at him. Moblit was not one to play coy; he did his job and did it well, and reported his findings efficiently. To leave her to question it meant one of two things; he had photographed someone very high profile indeed, or it was somebody Hange was, for better or for worse, well acquainted with.

Or perhaps, if she were lucky, it was both.

"Let me see him, then."

Hange had taken far too much time in the cafe with Moblit. He had given her a rundown of all the details he'd gathered during his field work that morning, and shown her through his extensive photo gallery. It was impressive, the kind of archive Moblit could cultivate with only a 45 minute breakfast window.

Hange had been delighted. Moblit was right; it wasn't breaking news, nothing particularly thrilling, but there was a corner of the Internet, Hange knew, that would delight in a trashy little article just like this. Something quick and simple to bulk up the social media feed for the afternoon.

Plus, there was a series of pictures Moblit had snapped, a cluster he'd thought to be of no real merit, that Hange simply could not pass up.

She could lay down no facts with a story like this one. There was no hard-hitting investigative journalism to be had, but she could at least offer some speculation based on her knowledge of the subjects involved, and spin a tale juicy enough to get people talking.

It took little time at all to put the article together. Hange scribbled up an outline for the contents—the location; Sina's in downtown Hizuru, a luxurious restaurant serving five star meals at every hour of the day. High in quality, sickeningly steep in price. The time of day; 9am. To the best of Hange's knowledge, this was rather out of character for the subject. He was an early riser, but according to their interview last March pending the premiere of his newest movie, he wasn't the type to eat much at all before lunch time.

And then, the company. Eren Yeager was a relatively well-known actor, barely an adult at nineteen. He starred in his first role a decade earlier, and had seen commercial success in multiple movies and TV shows ever since. He had been something of a prodigy in his younger years, bold and precocious, possessing a natural talent many actors years his senior couldn't even hope for. As Hange understood it, he had recently hit a rather troublesome phase. An interesting line of inquiry, but despite his talent and his fame, Eren's presence was simply a cameo, compared to the subject of the article Hange was drawing up.

Levi Ackerman.

Levi is a fan favourite and a media delight. He's attractive no doubt, and his performance in any and every role is almost always met with critical acclaim. Outside of his career, however, he's an elusive thing, silent in any matters pertaining to his private life. He avoids any public event like the plague, and rarely shows his face at premieres or award ceremonies if he can possibly avoid it. He gives interviews only when required by some contractual obligation or other, or else when the journalist in question is so painfully persistent that it is simply easier to give in than to keep fighting.

Little of his personal life is known, but it is impossible for someone in Levi's position to avoid interacting with anybody at all, and even the great Levi Ackerman is not above scrutiny.

There are rumours. Several of them, accounts from fellow cast members, from staff, from directors, and even Erwin, his manager, has alluded more than once to Levi's sour disposition. He is prone, Hange has heard, to fits of anger, and is easily disgruntled by minor inconveniences. His dislike of anything unclean or untidy is the stuff of legends—Hange has seen this first hand, at their very first interview. He had entered the room, scowled at the chair before sitting in it, and given Hange a thorough once over before announcing, with no hint of humour, "your glasses are filthy."

Hange had found him both fascinating and quite delightful, in his own strange way. When he acts, Levi sounds eloquent; he is a master of emotive performance, wringing the last drops of anger, despair, or grief out of each and every word, or else injecting the perfect giddy jitter, or a tremor of humour when the scene called for it. As soon as the cameras stop rolling, though, Levi's tone becomes flat, and without a script, his words are clumsy and crass. He communicates poorly, quick to throw insults and crude remarks. Hange has interviewed him a number of times—she counts herself very lucky that Levi will consent to her requests without too much fuss, these days—and each time she finds herself spending half of their time together translating his answers into something a) family friendly, and b) understandable to the everyday reader.

There is nothing for Hange to translate this time. Moblit managed to speak to the waiter after Levi and Eren had vacated in hopes of gleaning any small tidbit of knowledge regarding their conversation, but the venture had been hopeless. The pair had grown silent upon the approach of any staff member, and spoke in tones too hushed for anyone nearby to hear. They learned nothing they couldn't extrapolate for themselves from Moblit's pictures; Eren looked sheepish, avoiding Levi's gaze in favour of staring into his drink, while Levi—

Levi looked furious.

Every picture featured his signature frown, which, in and of itself wasn't enough to assume Levi to be in any mood besides neutral, but some of the photos show a hint of bared teeth or pursed lips, with his brows pulled lower than normal, the space between them deeply creased. Hange found herself curious as both a journalist and as an acquaintance. They may not be friends, but Hange liked to think she knew Levi a little better than most people, at least. She could find nothing in their past interactions to suggest any relationship with Eren beyond the strictly professional. They had over a decade between them, and though they had worked together on more than one set, neither party had ever said anything to insinuate so much as a friendly attitude between them.

There was no resolution to her queries to be easily found. And luckily for Hange, this particular piece didn't require any. It was a gossip article, something spicy, jam-packed with buzzwords, what-if's and more questions than answers, designed to make people wonder. Levi's name in the title would be enough to draw people in; Eren's name was an added bonus. But the star of the show was Moblit's photography. Hange arranged the images she had chosen in a grid. In context, the pictures were intriguing, depicting a particularly ferocious part of Levi and Eren's exchange. Out of context, they looked a little ridiculous. Both would bring readers onto their home page.

Satisfied with her work, Hange queued the finished article for review, and turned her attention back to her schedule.

The article launched mid-afternoon. Hange watched, somewhat satisfied, as it was received much as she had expected it to be. The activity on their Twitter account skyrocketed, the tweet in question garnering more likes, retweets and replies in the hour after it's post than any other they’d dropped in the last month.

Hange had allowed it to slip from her mind after the first hour or so. She received praise from her bosses, and a text from Moblit, jokingly demanding she pay him even more handsomely for his work than she already had, and her cousin had called her in the evening on a quest for insider gossip she could share with her friends, but that had been the end of it. Hange thought of it no more until early the following morning, when she had stopped by the quiet little cafe beneath her flat for breakfast and her favourite coffee.

She had been polishing off her pancakes when the bell above the door chimed. She had paid little attention to the newcomer, until a shadow passed over her table, and a familiar voice said, "Oi, shitty glasses."

Hange looked up to see Levi Ackerman himself standing over her, his face twisted in a scowl.

There are perks of being reasonably acquainted with Levi. Hange always gets to conduct his interviews, and Levi only ever turns her down if her request is unreasonable. Like that time she demanded he meet her at this very coffee shop for "just a quick piece, about the cameo you did for the new season of Titans", only to show him she'd bought a new pair of glasses—"look, all clean!"—and, when pressed, admitted there was no interview at all. He had been far more hesitant to indulge her in smaller affairs after that, but Hange was still lucky enough to be his only regular interviewer after big releases.

More interviews means more commission for Hange, and more high profile work with other celebrities. Yes, being acquainted with Levi has its bonuses.

But it also has its downsides. Namely, that Levi will not hesitate to turn up at her regular coffee shop to berate her after she has posted some complete and utter wank at his expense.

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?"

Hange sat back in her chair and sipped at her coffee. Levi's face was full colour now, a pale pink flush from his neck right up to his hairline. Hange gave him a measured look, then kicked out the chair opposite her.

"Sit," she said. "If you have issues, I'd be happy to discuss."

Levi looked for a moment like he'd like nothing more than to strangle her. Then he pulled out the chair the rest of the way, and dropped himself into it.

"I don't give a fuck about the article," he said. "It's shitty gossip anyway."

Hange raised a brow at him. She opened her mouth to continue when, without prompt, a young waitress approached their table, practically bouncing on the spot as she stopped and gave Levi a dazzling smile. Her cheeks were flushed prettily, and Hange would have thought she were simply starstruck, if it weren't for the light of mirth in her eyes.

"Good morning, sir. Can I get you anything?" She gave Levi no chance to respond, before plowing on. "Water? Or tea, perhaps? Forgive me, but you seem a little upset. Might a nice tea calm you down?"

Levi grit his teeth. "No, thank you."

Hange almost apologised to the poor waitress on his behalf, but she didn't look bothered at all by his rudeness. In fact, she had barely turned from the table before she snorted in laughter, and caught her giggles in her hands as she scurried back behind the counter. A second passed, before all three waitresses snickered.

"That," Levi hissed, "is your fault."

Now Hange truly was confused. She furrowed her brow at him. "How does that have anything to do with me?"

"You and your stupid article," he said. Hange looked back to the waitress, who looked to their table again before falling into a fresh fit of giggles. Hange turned back to Levi, a little sympathetic.

"I think she just fancies you."

"You're trying to tell me you really don't know the mess you've caused?"

Hange shook her head slowly. Levi watched her closely, searching for proof of the lie, but Hange's earnestness must have shown through, for Levi's anger abated a little, and he slumped back on his chair.

In lieu of a verbal explanation, Levi pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, typed something out, and scrolled a little way, before placing the phone on the table and sliding it towards her. Hange pulled it closer with a frown.

The screen displayed Twitter, and showed the feed beneath the search for Levi's name. Hange scrolled a few posts, eyes widening little by little as she went.

Levi was right. The contents of the article were of little significance at all. The photo grid, however, had gone viral overnight.

It showed four pictures of Levi and Eren, taken in succession. Each one showed only a portion of the back of Eren's head, but Levi's expression in every frame was more animated than Hange had ever seen him outside of his movie scenes, and each was more distraught than the last. Face tight, jaw clenched, teeth bared, with his finger pointed condescendingly in Eren's face. The second last picture shows his brows arched and his lips pressed into a thin line, and the final one—

Hange had laughed at it in isolation when Moblit had shown her. She had fully expected it to garner a few laughs, but she hadn't expected a photograph of Levi furiously slurping his tea to become a meme in less than 24 hours.

"I see," Hange said, as she calmly slid the phone back to him. "In my defense, you don't help yourself. It wouldn't be half as funny if you didn't hold your tea cup so weird."

"In my defense," Levi snapped, "If you didn't post it online nobody would have anything to laugh at."

Hange crossed her arms on the table and leaned towards him, smiling pleasantly. "In your defense, you wouldn't have been so angry in public if it weren't for whatever Eren had to say. What was that about, by the way? I'm terribly curious."

Hange expected a very Levi response to her prying; a scowl, perhaps a quick kick under the table, an 'It's none of your damn business, four-eyes', if she were lucky.

What she got instead was a haughty sniff, and a gruff, "He's fucking my cousin."

For a moment, they were silent. Either Levi's anger at his new meme status had temporarily disabled the part of his brain that blocked any mention of his private life from slipping past his lips in the wrong company, or something about Eren's indiscretion had rattled him so much, he couldn't keep silent about it. Either way, he looked increasingly surprised—and horrified—at himself for saying it out loud. Hange's eyes were wide, and Levi's were growing wider by the second. Of all the people to slip up to, he had slipped up to her. An entertainment journalist, the one person in his life who thrived on this kind of insider knowledge.

Hange swallowed. Levi was still staring at her like a deer in headlights, no doubt painfully aware that there was no taking back what he had said now.

Hange doesn't take a great deal of pride in what she does. She feels satisfied when her stories receive the reception she'd predicted, validated in her ability to analyse their consumer base and make accurate assumptions about what will hit and what won't, but the work itself feels dirty, at times. An opportunistic scavenger feeding on whatever carrion they can find, no matter how rotten it may be.

This is a perfect opportunity. Salacious details of Levi's interpersonal relationships, right from the horse's mouth. If it were anyone else, Hange would be scribbling every word verbatim in her notebook.

But this is Levi. Levi, who seems jarred by her last article (though Hange will maintain this, at least, is no real fault of her journalism, and also, absolutely hilarious) and was clearly, for whatever reason, incensed by Eren's actions.

Hange brushed her palms over her thighs, and picked a speck of lint from her trousers.

"This is nice, isn't it?" She said, "having breakfast together. We should do it more often. It feels good to just talk, sometimes. Off the record."

Levi blinked rapidly at her. He opened his mouth, but, still too shocked by his own loose tongue to speak, he said nothing. Hange pulled her phone from her bag and fiddled around with it some, tapping here and there, until she found what she was looking for. She turned it to Levi, and said, "I think this is my favourite edit so far."

Levi finally pulled his gaze from her, and looked down at the screen. It was truly something, the way the picture snapped him out of his stunned silence. Hange had never seen someone's face pinch up so rapidly.

"Come on, it's kinda funny. And look! That's Tony Stark, right? People are so creative. And maybe, if we're really lucky, Buzzfeed will do a compilation article of all the best ways people have used your new meme."

Levi rolled his eyes at her. It looked strange, with his face so tightly twisted. Hange chuckled at him.

She nudged his ankle beneath the table with the toe of her shoe. "Lighten up, you look constipated."

"Oi, out of the two of us I'm not the one who's full of—"

"—Full of shit, I know, I know. That honour is all mine."

They lapsed into another silence, this one marginally more comfortable than the last. Hange finished the last of her coffee and checked her emails, while Levi tortured himself some more by scrolling through his Twitter feed. After a short while, he spoke again.

"That...doesn't sound bad," he said.

"Hm?"

"What you said about talking more. Off the record. It doesn't sound bad."

It was Hange's turn to flush. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she occupied herself by rifling through her bag in search of nothing.

"Yeah?" Her voice, an octave higher than usual, cracked around the vowels. She cleared her throat, "will you have more gossip for me? It's almost painful that I can't share it, you know."

"Good. I'll share as many secrets as I've got, if it'll bother you that much."

"Sounds terrible," Hange said. She tore a clean corner off her napkin and scribbled her personal number onto it. She slid it over the table to him. "Text me."

Levi pulled a face at the piece of napkin. "Is that used? Gross, shitty four-eyes." He pocketed it anyway.

Hange didn't know what else to say. Levi didn't seem to either, and so he stood, and tucked his chair back in. Hange turned her eyes down to her empty plate. Her stomach and chest felt strange, almost sickly, but in an oddly pleasant way.

Levi rapped his knuckles on the table. Hange jumped, startled, and looked up at the sound.

"This part is on the record," he said. The corner of Levi's mouth quirked into a small, barely there grin. "I heard from a reliable source that Eren was so scared on the set of Last War that he pissed his pants. Twice."

#Levihan #snk #my writing #THIS ONE WAS SO FUN I would like to revisit this one day #I enjoyed their dynamic hehe

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