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scott-mccall-the-hot-girl · 3 years

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my ultimate guide to thiam fic !!

( as a new teen wolf stan )

the classic post war, long ass (multi chapter) fic !!with great development that genuinely made me laugh out loud, they have the best friendship in this & i love it very much. ( like theo teaches liam to drive and i just *happy sobs* ) a fundamental in thiam fanfiction !! all stans have probably already read it but if you haven’t this is in fact a threat ,, go show this vv iconic story some love !!

Airplanes - Captainmintyfresh

Summary: After the Anuk-ite and the hunters are dealt with Liam needs a break. Cue Theo and a road trip that Liam should know better than to think will be peaceful.

Not Rated, No Archive Warnings Apply, Completed, 43/43 Chapters, Words: 236,875 (236k)

okay okay so this one is also post 6B !! but ,, now we introduce fighting monroe & the hunters again ,, so we get the boys & a new mission !! so if you like an intresting plot 11/10 would recommend !! just to be clear this ISN’T complete ,, if that turns you off i understand but definitely give this one a read !! it litterally have theo doing crossword puzzles & fighting zombies

Vacancy Signs - LovelyLittleGrim

Summary: Theo and Liam are in Manhattan negotiating a pack allyship when the zombie apocalypse breaks out. Now, the two of them have to find their way back to Beacon Hills without getting eaten by zombies or killing one another.

Rated: Explicit, Graphic Description of Violence, Not Completed, 15/17 Chapters, Words: 89,605 (89k)

Royalty AU !! I REPEAT ROYALTY AU !! a fantastic au where i stan their moms more than i stan them !! genuinely so good at the childhood rivals to lovers trope !! i’m genuinely obsessed with this one. has made me cry more than once ,, hurts in a good way <3 the ending is just *chefs kiss* also one of the tags is genuinely: # theo and liam make bad choices for over 130k straight !! if that doesn’t sound appealing i don’t know what does !!

Artificial Love - songbvrd

Summary: Prince Theo and Prince Liam are forced to spend every Summer together from age five onwards. They hate each other, and usually find ways to make each other miserable as much as possible in their six weeks together. But when they're reunited because of intended unions as adults, things change. They're both supposed to be married to noble women, but neither of them is as interested in anyone else as they are with their childhood rival.

Rated: Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, Completed, Chapters: 32/32, Words: 172,935 (172k)

so if you are in the mood for a crack fic that’s not explicitally a crack fic this is for you !! okay so i’m really hit or miss with AU’s ,, sometimes i feel like they don’t quite capture the characters right but this story have the BEST dramatic liam i have ever seen in my life !! basically they all live in the same apartment building & it’s fantastic !! i saw this one floating around a lot but the summary didn’t really unrest me until i have it a shot !! so go read it rn !! also nolan & brett are genuinely fantastic and make me wheeze ,, LIKE ACTUALLY VERBALLY LAUGHING !! all i’m gonna say is that my fav characters are scott & the beetles but that won’t make actual sense until you read it !!

The Neighbors Song - TheodoreR

Summary: “I always hear you singing on your balcony every morning, but suddenly you’ve stopped?”

Or the one where Theo annoys Liam every morning with his awful singing until he doesn’t anymore and Liam is even more annoyed. Liam hates every single thing about his mornings -the fact that they happen in the morning alone is enough. The thing Liam hates the most about his mornings though is the terrible voice of the guy who lives below him. He can’t sing for shit and Liam tried to politely let him understand that by throwing flour and water on his balcony, and also by shouting it to him, you can’t sing for shit!, and then by writing it into a note he proceeded to attach to his door, but this Raeken guy just keeps doing it, every single morning, like a fucking rooster. Liam did nothing to deserve this. He probably didn’t do anything to deserve better either to be fair, he doesn’t expect to open his window and be welcomed by some angelic voice singing him good morning, he’d just be happy with nothing. Silence. That’s something Liam can appreciate in mornings. Just some bark from his dog and the sound of his misery and that’s it. But no, god forbid the new guy lets him have that.

Rated: Explicit, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Wanrings, Completed, 8/8 Chapters, Words: 42,814 (42k)

me: i’m not a big fan of AU’s ,, proceeds to talk about ANOTHER au… OKAY BUT THIS ONE !! it’s not complete but the author has been updating regularly ,, vv slow burn !! but in a REALLY intresting way !! i lOVE LIAM IN THIS SO MUCH ,, he is such a diaster of a person and it’s wonderful !! they have a great dynamic & i’m sucker for general puppy pack content ( and erica reyes being a badass ) !! also theo plays lacrosse in this & i really like it ahhhhh ,, also liam is just being an artic monkeys stan the whole time & theo is like *que confused repressed gay noises*

Inglorious Roommates - honeyscape

Summary: A roommate is defined as “a person with whom one shares a room.”

Theo would say a roommate was more along the lines of, “The person who's the bane of his existence. The weirdo that sleeps for days. The spaz that exercises at 3am. The guy with a revolving door of annoying friends. An insufferable human being that Theo has no control over living in his room.”

Example: Theo hates his roommate Liam.

okay okay i hate myself but i have another WIP for y’all !! this one is jUST FANTASTIC. i’m genuinely so upset it’s most likely not going to updated again *incoherent screaming ensues*. for this story ,, it’s very theo-centric bUT thats bc it ends right before liam becomes a concrete member of the story !! ANYWAY: basic plot = theo & acquiring not one but two children ,, so #dad theo but he is still crusty & homeless and i love him very much. it’s just so GOOD !! just read if you want to experience my fav theo coming out story & him etching high school musical

Look who's talking - Captainmintyfresh

Summary: Theo had been labeled many things in his life. Evil, failure, monster. He'd never thought Father would be one of those things but as he looked across the table to a six year old with blue smears of bubble gum icecream across her face trying to coax the first words out of her sister. Finger jabbing towards Theo's face as she repeated 'Daddy' again and again he couldn't bring himself to dispute the label.

(Theo accidentally adopts two young werewolves)

Not Rated, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, Not Completed, Chapters: 16/?, Words: 48740 ( 48k )

so here me out: post-canon ( poetry like angst ) summer get away !! just the boys doing cute little domestic things together whilst pining !! theo’s guilt in this is just so powerful & aGjffkgkkfkvkdlv !! i think it’s so interesting to see how they interact in this one, it’s just very heart warming !! and it features one of my favorite niche teen wolf tropes of theo being great with like seven year old girls- it’s just so good ,, very much a wonderful little one shot that just makes your heart happy.

(next time i see you you'll show me) a hundred different ways to say the same things - cherrysprite

Summary: “...You deserve good things,” Liam says eventually. He makes sure not to look at Theo even though he can feel his eyes turn on him. Somehow he can already tell that Theo doesn’t believe him.

Liam instantly makes that the goal of this summer - making Theo believe him.

Rating: Teen and Up, No Archive Warnings Apply, Chapters: 1/1, Words: 28875 ( 28k )

okay so this next section of fic recs is a bit different !!

two of my favorite authors !! and a compilation of fics i’ve read by them both !!

for context: these two have written some genuinely gorgeous fics, like pure poetry, they explore the real gritty & scary side of our boys relationship in such a wonderful way. they’ve both used some of my favorite tropes & i love them very much !!

whenever i need something soothing but so genuinely intresting & enticing these are my go to !! ( also they both write a lot of good nolan angst & some vv good fics with hayden )

go check out:

eneiryu

as well as fallingforboys

here are some of my favorite fics by them ~

darling i want you here in my arms (kiss the pain away, i know you can) - fallingforboys

even before you touched me, i belonged to you (all you had to do was look at me) - fallingforboys

memories linger like tattoo scars (but your touch on my skin is just as permanent) - fallingforboys

skin, bones, a stolen heart, and an ugly creature lurking underneath -fallingforboys

i don't know how to breathe in the place i called home - fallingforboys

whisper your gossamer truths into the shadow, maybe you'll find the answers you're searching for - fallingforboys

between the mountains and the valley we built a monument to our regret - eneiryu

cracked the hinges of the cage and waited for you - eneiryu

okay and finally: since i am a self centered whore

my own fic: an rendition of the # elevator scene

it’s basically my version of post canon if we did get the kiss in the elevator. we got a classic liam pov in which he is has 12/10 for extreme bi diaster energy even whilst being shot at !! so go him ig…

Fuck Off, Fuck This & Fuck It! - nefelibata_peach

Summary: Liam thought to himself heart rate climbing, they were bound to be dead by morning. So he thought with everything but his brain and he kissed him.

Where Liam Dunbar is very confused, slightly traumatized, and just a bit scared but hey, aren't they all! Bad decisions ensue as two boys fight in a war they never did sign up for.

Rating: Teen and Up, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Chapters: 1/1, Words: 3558 ( 3k )

#this took me so long #please go read these or i’ll cry #fan fiction #fan fic recs #teen wolf fic recs #thiam fanfiction #thiam fic recs #thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar #theo x liam #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf gay #teen wolf #ao3 #fuck you fuck this & fuck it #thiam fanfic rec #thiam fanfic #thiam is endgame

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amjustagirl · 3 years

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Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi's heart has always pointed north. He wonders if it's broken when it starts to point inexorably towards her.

Set in the aftermath of The Astrophile, in the same universe as Storm Chaser.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi / f! reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance

Wordcount: 7.8k

Masterlist link here

A/N: Dedicated first and foremost to Ami @softsakusa, one of the first people to convince that my writing isn’t shit and that I should keep creating fics.

This fic is also for all the readers who wanted a happy ending for the reader in The Astrophile (which sets out the backstory of the reader, Iwaizumi and Oikawa), and also follows the events of Storm Chaser (which follows the turbulent relationship of Miya Atsumu and now wife - I named her Kaiyo in this fic to avoid confusion!).

Hope you like it - reblogs and comments are always dearly appreciated <3

It must be the worst meet cute of all time.

That is – if he’s using that phrase correctly. It keeps appearing in the god-awful English movies Bokuto and Miya keep playing during team movie nights that makes him want to tear his hair out.

But yes, he meets her at Miya Shino’s seventh birthday party, the birthday girl the apple of Miya Atsumu’s eye, the princess of his castle, the most perfect angel in the entire heavens - the list of pet names growing longer and longer the more the obnoxious setter prattles on about his daughter.

And apparently Miya Shino is a chip off the old block, and is as obsessed with volleyball as her father. Which means that he, one Sakusa Kiyoomi, is forced to turn up on a Saturday afternoon for a birthday party to teach a group of children roughly about the same height as his kneecaps how to play volleyball.

There are plenty of other MSBY players that Miya Atsumu could have rounded up to fritter away a Saturday afternoon. Hinata, for instance - the sunny, fiery headed opposite hitter a perennial favourite with young fans. Or Inunaki - the liberio has an amiable personality that he certainly wouldn’t mind snot nosed children hanging off his arms like a walking, talking monkey bar. But no, Hinata is apparently busy on a weekend meditation retreat, and Inunaki is at his sister’s wedding party, so both of them managed to escape this travesty of a birthday party.

That leaves him with Bokuto who’s practically a child himself, beaming, bumping balls at screaming children with one hand, the other hand lifting another child above his head. Meian’s here too but his own kid is somewhere in this gaggle of monsters anyway, so he’s here to carry out his parental duties – hopefully his presence might balance the sheer chaos he’s sure he’s about to face.

‘Omi-omi you made it!’ Atsumu greets him with a slap to the back.

Sakusa resists the urge to bare his teeth. Is this what hell is? Screeching gremlins underfoot, the nauseating smell of fried food permeating the air.

And it’s probably because he’s still in a horrified daze at the situation he’s put himself in (which Atsumu is either too dense to pick up on or already immune due to the series of similar expressions he pulls at him on a daily basis), Atsumu manages to snap a party hat on his head, before he prances off in victory.

Sakusa snarls, ripping off the red paper hat off his head.

Why on earth did he agree to this again?

‘Sakusa-san! Thank you so much for coming!’

His glare softens by a fraction.

Miya Kaiyo, Atsumu’s long suffering wife approaches him, careful not to touch him, waving at him instead. He appreciates her thoughtfulness, so he thaws a little, giving her a slight nod in greeting.

Right, she’s the reason why he’s here.

He’s always been fond of her - competent, patient, intelligent, far too good for her idiot of a husband. Approximately a year ago, he sought her professional help with his accounts. He graduated with a business degree from Chuo University, so he can tell there is obviously something fishy that his manager is pulling with his finances, but the accounting courses he took weren’t in depth to pinpoint the problem. Miya Kaiyo, on the other hand, a trained forensic accountant with a nose like a bloodhound for fraudulent accounts, nailed down the problem within a week. So when she asked him after a game whether he’d be free to attend her daughter's birthday party, he hadn’t been able to turn her down.

‘It was no problem’, he says stiffly, already itching to spray the whole place down with disinfectant. ‘I’m glad to be here.’

Kaiyo laughs at his obvious lie, tugging at his sleeve to seat him in a corner. ‘You don’t have to go play with the kids if you didn’t want to! I invited you so we could catch up, and besides, I did want to introduce you to someone.’

‘Hm.’

He doesn’t try to mask his reluctance this time. Kaiyo means well, he knows, but between her and his mother, he’s tired of having to fend off match making attempts. It’s not like he can’t get a date – he can and he has, it’s just difficult to find someone willing to put up with his prickly personality and busy schedule.

‘Well she’s not here yet, so you’ll have to wait. And while we’re waiting, tell me how’ve things been, Sakusa-san?’

Grateful that he’s not going to be forced into shepherding children into playing anything remotely resembling an actual volleyball match (he suspects he might have more luck teaching cats how to do the conga), he settles into his seat, mouth stretching into something resembling a smile. He lets her chatter about work, and they’re deep in a discussion about his plans post-volleyball (because he can feel the countdown on his career in his creaking bones, his aching sinews) when Atsumu swoops in on him again, like a vulture seeking easy prey.

‘What’cha doin’ with my wife, Omi-omi’, he slips a hand around Kaiyo’s waist mock possessively.

She swats at him. He ducks, raising his hands in surrender.

‘I enjoy talking to an actual adult sometimes, ‘Tsumu!’

‘Oh come on, I already have to share you with ‘Samu most of the time, now you’re leaving me for Omi-kun?!’

‘Dramatic ass.’

‘Please, you chose to marry me.’ He crows, flipping his hair. He looks ridiculous, he always does. Kaiyo seems to agree -

‘And I wonder why sometimes.’ She retorts, Atsumu squawking indignantly at her response, hair ruffling like an offended chick. But Kaiyo ruins the effect of her words by laughing, leaning over to affectionately peck her husband on the cheek.

Sakusa should be annoyed by this display of childishness, but for some inexplicable reason, a frisson of longing bubbles in his chest instead. It’s strange. Marriage or even serious relationships have never been something he’s actively sought. After all, it always seemed horrendously illogical to put all your eggs in one basket and hope nothing trips up – but his heart pays his mind no mind, and the strange sensation continues to trickle down his throat into his chest.

He makes up an excuse to slip to the bathroom for a tactical retreat from this madness.

Then he takes a breath.

Rinse. Lather hands with soap. Rinse. Repeat again .

Familiar motions, bred out of a desire to do things right, transformed into an unbreakable habit. Cold water, washing away soap bubbles.

Right. Now he’s ready for another plunge off the deep end .

He’s a foot past the threshold of the community hall where the party is being held when Miya Shino darts towards him. She’s very clearly her father’s daughter with his penchant for mischief because she dives between his legs, making him stumble in confusion. Then Meian Shugo’s eldest son Makoto barrels towards him, intent on reaching the ball held aloft in Shino’s hands.

Athletic reflexes be damned in the face of a pair of hell-spawn.

‘Shino!’. Kaiyo shouts.

‘Makoto!’ Meian thunders.

Sakusa flails, decidedly without grace, and in his attempt at not squashing the two little devils, he manages to do something even worse .

Much, much worse.

He manages to trip over his feet and bump right into the woman Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to (this, he finds out later). It’s a lost cause – he’s six foot two of pure muscle, dwarfing her by a mile, and she’s carrying a huge box in her hand.

He ends up face planting directly into her chest.

His brain short circuits at the feeling of plush softness and vanilla and – ,

‘Woah - Omi-omi, never thought I’d have to defend the honour of my cousin in law’, Atsumu laughs.

The sudden flare of irritation at Atsumu’s words kickstarts his brain back into gear. Rearing back in alarm, he promptly topples over onto his butt.

‘Uncle ‘kusa, I’m sorry’ Shino screeches, distraught. Makoto merely snivels. Kaiyo is evidently the only one with working brain cells, because she rushes over to help them up.

The-woman-with-the-mysterious-box makes Kaiyo take the box first. It holds precious cargo - Shino’s birthday cake, he later finds out, but because she manages to cling on to it with admirable tenacity, it emerges more or less intact. Then she turns to him, still sprawled on the floor. He scoots away, still dazed.

She offers him a steady hand. ‘Hello’, she says. ‘It seems we’ve gotten off to rather a bad start.’

There is a hint of mirth in her voice, but her eyes are kind.

He takes her hand with a rare smile.

Miya Kaiyo grins behind the cake box. It turns out her daughter is a better matchmaker than either her or (heaven forbid) her husband.

It turns out that Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to her cousin, newly moved to Osaka from Tokyo. She’s a sports journalist, used to cover volleyball even, but for some reason their paths never crossed. She too, is tired of her cousin’s well intentioned meddling, but asks him if he’d like to meet her for dinner one day ‘if only to get Kaiyo off her back, because she’s persistent’, and funnily enough, he agrees.

He doesn’t mind making a new friend, he reasons. She seems decent enough.

They go out for dinner on a Tuesday night. She doesn’t complain when he tells her that due to his diet planned by MSBY’s nutritionist, most restaurants are off limits. Instead, she asks intelligent questions about whether the sources of protein and fibre he’s relying on are varied enough, even suggesting alternatives like tempeh, a Southeast Asian soy product.

He appreciates that.

She doesn’t also fawn over the fact that he’s a professional athlete. That makes sense, considering she’s probably interviewed dozens, if not hundreds of individuals who are just like him. It’s nice - he’s tired of groupies who start dates off by staring at him starry eyed, but ending it with disappointment in their eyes when they discover that he’s just a guy who practices hitting balls enough to do it for a living. And best of all, she doesn’t mind that their conversation sometimes wanes into silence. She doesn’t seem to feel the need to fill empty spaces with inane drivel, nor expect him to entertain her like a circus animal.

He likes that.

So when the night ends, he asks her whether she’d like to have dinner with him again. ‘Just as friends’, he’s quick to clarify.

‘Sure’, she nods, and they bid each other goodnight.

They start having dinner every Tuesday night, subject to their erratic schedules.

He enjoys her company. She’s thoughtful, bringing him home made baked goods like zucchini cake (low sugar, of course), sneaking him chocolate scones for his cheat days after she discovers his hidden sweet tooth. She’s considerate too, never blinking an eye at his compulsive need to make sure everything is just in order, even if the waitress stands behind them aghast when he insists on using disinfectant to wipe down their table. She doesn’t even call him paranoid when he passes her a bottle of sanitizer.

Slowly, he finds himself confiding in her about things he’d maybe only tell his cousin, Motoya. Or at least, the things he would tell Motoya if the guy would only pick up his calls.

‘Sorry’, Motoya texts back after a couple of missed calls. ‘ Practice has been brutal recently.

In a remarkable display of restraint, Sakusa does not point out that EJP Raijin is below MSBY in this season’s rankings.

So he tells her instead about how he’s contemplating retirement, how he’s trying to chart out his next steps career wise. She surprises him by listening to him gravely, pointing out that he can lean on his business degree to possibly land an office job in event management or with sports associations, putting him in touch with one overly excited Kuroo Tetsuro. He tucks her suggestions away carefully at the back of his mind.

It’s nice to have a friend, he tells himself, his lips quirking ever so slightly when her hand grazes his as they walk down the street together.

He invites her to the monthly gatherings that the MSBY players take turns to host for their family and friends, making the excuse that he needs a human shield in any event hosted by Miya Atsumu. She agrees easily, perking up at the chance to spend a Sunday afternoon with her cousin and niece - ‘ and Kaiyo’ll need help, especially since she’s pregnant’, bringing far too many cupcakes topped with the lightest, fluffiest cream cheese frosting he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. Even Miya Osamu gives her a nod of respect after stuffing his face full of her cupcakes. He, unlike his twin, has good taste.

Her brow furls into a concerned frown when he quietly sneaks himself a second cupcake. ‘You don’t have to force yourself to eat it just to be polite! I made it, so I know it has so much sugar and butter it would make your nutritionist weep. If you want, I snuck some zucchini cake in my handbag for you instead.’

He stubbornly shovels a large bite into his mouth. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’

She bursts into laughter, leaning forward to wipe away the smudge of frosting on the tip of his nose with her thumb.

Miya Kaiyo shoots him a knowing look across the room, waggling her eyebrows in an eerie imitation of her husband. He fights to keep his face blank, refusing to feed her satisfaction, but fails, a hot flush rising in his cheeks.

‘Traitor’ he mouths at her. Her smirk only deepens.

Fortunately, the gathering ends with no further mishaps, either to his physical well-being or his dignity. Makoto is packed off with Meian, the little boy whining for more time to play with Shino. Hinata and Bokuto prance off for some ridiculous buffet on the other side of town.

As for himself, he hangs back with her to help the Miyas put their house back in order, expelling an amused puff of a laugh from his nose when she forces the very pregnant Kaiyo to ‘stay still, for goodness sake!’ on the couch, dancing around the house with a mop, Shino trailing after her waving a feather duster with gusto. He refrains from telling the little girl that she’s more likely to spread the dust than to actually clear it – at least she’s not causing more havoc this way.

‘I can’t believe I could’ve ever taken this for granted, y’know’, Atsumu comments from behind him, mouth wide in a tender smile. ‘It’s the best feeling in the world to have a wife and kid who loves ya to the moon and back, welcoming ya home after a long day at work. They make everything worth it.’

He’s thrown for a loop at this rare display of emotional vulnerability from the usually obnoxious setter and for once, does not resort to hostility, choosing instead to acknowledge the blonde setter’s words with a tacticum nod.

The Miyas’ apartment is far too chaotic for his tastes, with colourful toys scattered on the floor, mismatched picture frames of the little family on the walls, but laughter hangs in the air, and light spills from the windows, illuminating the warmth and love and fondness in every look and word the Miyas gift each other.

His father gave him a compass when he was a child, as a present to celebrate his first match. His mother clucked her tongue because it’s a strange gift for a child - delicate, fiddly, its gold exterior tarnished with age. But his father chuckled and told him that he’s old enough to appreciate that the compass is his father’s, and his father’s father before that, an heirloom to remind their sons to work hard at everything they do, and to keep their hearts on course, pointing north.

And Sakusa thinks he’s done that. He’s worked and worked and worked at perfecting his skills in his chosen sport. He’s accepted his solo course, so laser focused on carving out a career in professional sports leaves little time or space for intimate relationships. Not to mention the fact that watching the disaster of Atsumu’s early years of marriage from the sidelines, made him swear off similar heartbreak for himself.

But there are times when he can’t help but feel a little lonely - when he has to struggle to find a date for MSBY events, when he has no one to celebrate the holidays with, when he goes home every day to his neat, cold apartment with space for only one occupant.

The compass in his heart creaks. It starts to turn a few degrees just off-course.

‘Do you ever wonder what it’d be like to get married?’ he asks her as he’s walking her home that night.

‘I did, once upon a time’, she shrugs carelessly. He misses the sudden strain in her smile. ‘Why do you ask?’

He stays silent for a while, the length of the quiet street giving him time to properly ferment his response. He considers the effects of adding splashes of colour to his dull life, weighs it against his long cultivated instinct to avoid the potential chaos of any emotional entanglements. He finds himself suddenly craving the sweetness of cream cheese frosting, and wonders how it’d be like to come home to light, fluffy cakes baked by her hands.

When they reach her apartment block, she tilts her head at him curiously, obviously awaiting his answer. He tugs his words together, strings his swirling thoughts into a decipherable sentence.

‘Because Atsumu and Kaiyo seem happy together. And I wondered if we’d be happy together too.’

He watches her puzzle over his words, her brow furling into a confused frown. ‘And I wasn’t proposing, by the way’, he feels the need to clarify.

She snorts. ‘I didn’t think so.’ With a directness that he very much appreciates, she looks at him squarely and asks - ‘Are you asking me out, Sakusa Kiyoomi?’

He meets her gaze. ‘Yes, I am. We’ve known each other for a decently long time for me to conclude our personalities are well matched, and we’re both mature adults who respect each other’s work schedules and commitments. And if you don’t mind that I can be overly blunt and quiet sometimes - ‘

‘ - which I don’t’, she interjects, with a chuckle.

‘I think we might be happy together’, he concludes, with a small smile that’s becoming more common in her presence.

He allows her the space to turn his proposition over in her mind.

‘Alright’, she finally says. ‘I guess we can give it a go’.

So much for Atsumu accusing him of having a heart made out of tin. Flesh and muscle works overtime to pump blood into his cheeks as she slots her fingers between his and gives his hand a squeeze.

Being in a relationship isn’t too different from what they had before.

They still keep to their standing date to meet every Tuesday (schedules permitting, of course). But now he doesn’t have to make up excuses to ask her out on outings that aren’t food related. At first he tries his best to adhere to dating norms, arranging for romantic dates at candlelit restaurants, buying her massive bouquets that make her sneeze.

‘It’s fine, Omi’, she tells him gently after they spend another uncomfortable evening in a dimly lit restaurant eating off plates too large for the laughably tiny food portions. ‘I’m happy just hanging out with you. You don’t have to go out of your way to impress me, I’m not holding on to any ridiculous expectations of you’. He stops after that, glad he doesn’t have to suffer another night trying to decipher which utensil to be used at which course, or having to put on starched formal wear to yet another stuffy restaurant.

She’s noticeably happier when they accompany each other on trips to the supermarket, each holding a stack of coupons to take advantage of the latest deals. She shields him from any overly zealous obaa-sans with gusto, throwing elbows and using her grocery basket as a makeshift battering ram before they crowd close enough to him to trigger his anxiety. He helps her reach for things on the top shelf ‘to prevent her from scaling the grocery shelves like an overgrown teenager’ , he snarks. He’s worried his attempt at teasing lands wrong, but she snorts and thanks him good naturedly anyways.

On the weekends, they develop a habit of meal prepping for the rest of the week at her apartment. His kitchen lacks the fancy mixers and blenders that she has, and in all honesty, his dark, spartan apartment lacks the sunlight and warmth that spills into her apartment from the windows, so it’s only logical that they should spend the bulk of their time there. It’s an oasis of calm for him, chopping vegetables and chicken into small cubes, sautéing them for the week ahead, while she bustles around whipping eggs and flour and milk together to form another delectable cake that they always end up sharing at the end of the day.

He starts to dread matches away from home a little more than he used to. While hotel rooms are as spartan as his own apartment, he doesn’t have the option of heading over to her apartment to bask in her quiet warmth. His meals come in styrofoam boxes instead of the glass tupperware she stacks on her kitchen counter, and he turns up his nose at store bought cakes that his teammates offer him, only craving for those baked in her oven. He even starts looking up to the stands for a glimpse of her, only to remember that she can’t be there to cheer the team on.

‘Cheer up, Omi-omi! We’ll have a home match next week’, Atsumu tells him jovially.

‘It doesn’t matter either way to me’, he mutters resentfully, but the setter only grins.

‘Trust me, it matters a great deal to have the girl ya love cheering ya on, y’know?’

He stalks off to the changing room, ignoring the peals of laughter from the blonde annoyance he leaves in his wake.

The tight coil of loneliness only loosens when he sees her waiting for him at the station when he returns. She ignores his protests to snag his suitcase away from him, the case looking comically large against her small frame, but she uses it effectively as a tank to force a path through the crowd, and drag him back to her apartment in no time.

‘You need a home cooked dinner to make up for all those industrially prepared food you must’ve been eating this entire week’, she tells him, bustling around the kitchen, only stilling when he takes her shoulders in his hands.

‘Are you happy?’ he asks, when he cups her face to carefully brush the dusting of flour on her cheek away.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ She laughs, the sound fond.

‘Just checking in’, he tells her, closing his eyes as she pulls him down towards her for a kiss.

All in all, it’s a happy, uncomplicated relationship. He likes it that way.

If his heart were a compass, he’d suspect it’s broken because instead of pointing north, it starts to inch inexorably towards her.

But there are strange quirks he notices about her that niggles at his brain.

She refuses point blank to check out the planetarium when she attends an event held at the adjacent Art Museum as his date, professing to have an irrational dislike for stars.

‘They’re just balls of burning gas and light ’ , he points out. ‘What could you possibly have against them?’

There’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes that he does not miss. ‘I know it’s stupid but just humour me, ok?’ Her tone verges on a snarl, before she storms away, ostensibly to the bathroom to freshen herself up.

She returns later with an apology for her behaviour. Though he’s confused, he respects her privacy and does not push for an answer.

He’s at her apartment preparing meals for the week ahead when the doorbell rings and an enormous bouquet of white lilies are deposited into her arms. She stares dumbly at the flowers, their sickly sweet scent permeating the air.

His brow furls. ‘Today isn’t your birthday, is it?’

His words jolt her out of her trance. ‘No’, she answers, before inexplicably storming to the living room and dumping the bouquet with a vengeance on the coffee table. Pollen flutters to the floor, delicate white petals crushed in her hands.

‘It’s nothing’, she tells him as he shoots her a questioning look.

When she disappears to the washroom, he peeks at the card. There’s no name on it, just a simple message - ‘consider it, please?’

He doesn’t question her about it when she returns to the kitchen. She doesn’t offer him any answers either.

He finds himself wondering about them.

It was refreshing at first to have a relationship free of any expectations. She never asks for more than he’s willing to give, seems happy enough to slot herself into the pockets of time he offers, only attends his games when he gives her tickets, doesn’t get upset with him when he inevitably forgets to text.

But therein lies the issue, doesn’t it?

If she truly likes him, wants to pursue a relationship seriously with him, shouldn’t she be demanding more than the crumbs of affection and attention he shows her? They’re both past the age of thirty, shouldn’t she be looking to get married and settle down, maybe spawn a demon child or two?

He’s tried raising it with her once, but she responded with confusion.

‘I don’t have any expectations of you, Omi’, she’d replied. ‘We both have busy lives, so whatever you’re willing to give, I’m happy to take’.

There’s technically nothing wrong about her answer. It’s wholly considerate and kind - very much her.

Still, it makes him wonder - if her heart were a compass, would it point towards him?

He manages to hold his tongue until she gets another delivery of flowers.

This time he opens the door when the doorbell rings, assaulted by the heady scent of lillies, pollen smeared on his sleeves. This time, there’s a name on the card.

Oikawa Tooru .

It takes a couple of seconds for him to realise why the name is so familiar. It’s the same name Hinata and Kageyama used to buzz about every Olympics - the famous Argentinian setter who started his career as a schoolboy from Miyagi, a prodigious setter who never made it to Nationals in high school, refused to give up and forged his way to success in a whole new land, continents away.

‘How do you know Oikawa’? He asks her. ‘And why does he keep sending your flowers?’

‘He’s just an old acquaintance,’ she admits. ‘He’s just sending the flowers to persuade me to attend his wedding.’

His forehead crinkles in confusion, and he tries his best not to leap to conclusions, but since she doesn’t seem to be forthcoming with further clarification, he presses her further.

‘And why won’t you attend his wedding?’

Her shoulders slouch in obvious reluctance as she turns away, focusing her attention on the mixing bowl. But Kiyoomi isn’t easily deterred, so he firmly takes the mixing bowl from her and sets it on the countertop. He raises an eyebrow at her, clearly seeking an answer.

She huffs a sigh through her nose. ‘Because he’s getting married to my ex-boyfriend, ok?’

He blinks. That was unexpected.

‘It happened half a decade ago. Ancient history. I’m over it.’ She mutters to the floor.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about it?’

‘Because it’s none of your business’, she snaps, grabbing the mixing bowl again, beating the batter with a vengeance.

‘You’re going to ruin the texture if you whisk it too hard’, he tugs the bowl away from her again. She refuses to relinquish her grip.

‘Leave me alone!’ she snarls, yanking the bowl back. Confused by her sudden fury, he lets go of the bowl, only for her to stumble back, eyes wide as she loses her balance, knocking her head against the countertop.

He drops down onto his knees, not even noticing the batter soaking into his pants, combing through her hair, scouring the back of her neck for any sign of injury. It’s only when he’s satisfied that her fall has resulted in nothing more than a bruise that should go away by tomorrow that he notices her tears soaking the front of his shirt.

‘Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?’ he asks, wiping her tears away with a batter splattered thumb.

She hangs her head, body still shaking from her sobs. ‘I’ve already made such a mess of things – don’t want you to have to listen to my nonsense – am just bein’ stupid, that’s all - ’.

He patiently waits until her sobs dissolves into mere sniffles before speaking. ‘I want you to tell me what’s wrong. If you’re up to it.’

So through more broken sobs and hiccups, he listens to the tale of Iwaizumi Hajime, a boy who was her world, who only realised he was always in love with Oikawa Tooru, a fortnight before she and he were to wed. Her voice wavers as she tells him the full story of the white lilies, explains that her irrational dislike for stars stems from the reminder that she chose to give her world up to a boy-king burning brighter than the stars in the night sky combined.

He waits until her words run out, and she’s leaning against him, broken and pliant in a way that makes his heart ache.

‘I wish you told me about it earlier’, he tells her, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. ‘That you would trust me enough to tell me about the things that hurt you in the past. And I wonder about the state of our relationship if you don’t even trust me enough for that’.

‘That’s unfair. You never asked - ‘

‘How could I ask about something I didn’t even know about?’ He takes hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Hurt and anger and shock simmer in her eyes, each swirl of emotion fighting for dominance.

‘I didn’t want to expect anything more from this relationship than you were willing to give’, she admits after a pause.

She’s scared of being hurt again. He doesn’t miss the subtext.

‘Shall I tell you what I want from you then? I have a list, if you’re willing to hear me out’ he asks, with a smile that’s growing more common the more time he spends around her.

She nods, but keeps her gaze stubbornly on the ground.

He takes his time to choose his words. He’s never been verbose - not like Atsumu or Bokuto or even easygoing Motoya, choosing to only say what is strictly necessary, using the precise amount of words, nothing more, nothing less. But this is a situation that requires more emotion rather than precision, so he inhales a shaky breath, letting it fuel the sentiment in his heart as he exhales.

‘First. I want you to trust that I’ll never hurt you like he did’, he says, and with a self-deprecating smile he adds - ‘I don’t have any childhood friends to be secretly in love with besides Motoya, and I’m hardly going to be pining after my flake of a cousin’.

That triggers the corners of her lips to tilt upwards, and encouraged, he carries on.

‘Second. I want you to be open with me about what you want - your dreams, your expectations of me. I want to hear them all because you’re important to me.’

That makes her flush pink, and she sneaks a glance up towards him.

‘Third. I want to wake up each morning with you by my side and come home to you every night. I want to watch you fight cranky old ladies in the supermarket in my honour, be the first person to taste test all your baking experiments - even the failed ones that are only fit to feed Atsumu. I want us to be happy together. Forever, if possible.’

He lifts her bodily into his lap, brushes his nose against her cheek. ‘Now that I’ve told you what I’m willing to give, is that too much for you to take?’ he murmurs against her lips.

Her blush blossoms into a deep scarlet, but her eyes are iridescent pools of startled delight. She doesn’t speak, sealing her answer instead with her lips.

His heart’s compass is irretrievably broken, the needle melted into place. It doesn’t point north any longer, no – it’s always going to point towards her.

They move in together after that.

He gives up his apartment, professing to prefer the warmth and light of hers. The Miyas help him move in even when he tries to refuse their help, Atsumu helping him to lug cardboard boxes up the stairs, Kaiyo helping him sort out his belongings, sorting them into his allocated cupboards.

When they’re done, they order pizza and she bakes a cake to celebrate. ‘An impromptu housewarming’ she says, toasting Miya Kaiyo with a slice of pepperoni pizza with a laugh.

Kiyoomi shares a slice of chocolate cake with Atsumu in complete defiance of their nutritionist’s advice, jostling forks over the very last bite. She and Kaiyo scold them teasingly, telling them to behave like they’re actually thirty and not teenagers on the cusp of adulthood. Atsumu pulls at Kaiyo’s ponytail in retaliation. He refuses to engage in similar tomfoolery, reddening instead when she reaches over to ruffle his curls.

‘This is nice’, he remarks to Atsumu later, when their significant others are out of earshot, gossiping and giggling about something or other.

‘It is, isn’t it’, Atsumu replies, a dopey smile on his face as he stares at his wife.

It truly is , Kiyoomi thinks, staring at her.

He takes over most of the cleaning, it clears his mind, he tells her. So to split the chores evenly, she insists on doing their laundry and cooking, and he doesn’t even nag her too much when she forgets to split the white and coloured clothes and stains some of his shirts once in a while.

Wedding invites printed on expensive cream paper and bouquets of white lilies start to litter their doorstep every day. He tries his best to dispose of them before they reach her sight, but every so often, he comes home too late, catches her wilt as she brushes white petals from their doorstep.

‘I don’t blame either of them’, she tells him, after he asks if she’d like him to call Iwaizumi and tell him to drown himself in a vat of batter, thank you very much.

‘You’re too kind to both of them’ he says plainly, as they share a pot of tea, his head pillowed in her lap. ‘I would’ve just set them both on fire and left them to rot.’

‘Hajime loved Tooru for almost all his life - I just wanted to see him happy in the end. Argh - I sound so stupid and sentimental like an old grandma, just laugh at me already’ she complains, hiding her burning cheeks in her hands.

‘You aren’t stupid for being kind.’ He hums, quiet and low. ‘It’s why I love you so.’

He relishes the soft light dawning in her eyes, captures her whispered affection with careful fingers, spins them into gold.

He has to turn off the stove to answer the door when some rude lout bangs on their front door far too early on a Sunday morning.

With his coldest sneer and thinking resentfully about his breakfast, Kiyoomi swings the door open, fully intent on looming over the disturbance with his full height, but takes a step back instead when he finds one Iwaizumi Hajime hanging off the door knob.

‘Hello’, Iwaizumi looks up at him confusedly.

‘Hi’, he nods a greeting back at his old Olympic team trainer. They stare at each other.

‘Eh - I think I’ve got the wrong house’, Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Sorry about that, Sakusa-san.’

He’s about to close the door in Iwaizumi’s face when her voice chimes in, clear as a bell.

‘Who’s at the door, Omi?’

The shorter man shoots him a look of barely contained rage as he uses his bulk to push his way through the doorway towards her. Kiyoomi tries to stop him, protesting that he can’t barge into someone’s private property without an invitation like that, but it’s as futile an endeavour as trying to block the path of a raging storm.

Iwaizumi reaches her first, raising a hand as if to cup her face by instinct, before letting it fall back limply by his side. ‘You weren’t answering any of my messages or calls’, he says. ‘I was worried about you.’

She stares at him blankly for a moment. Then fire sparks in her eyes.

‘Well, as you can see, I’m completely fine’, she replies, jaw and fists clenched. ‘You don’t need to do a welfare check on me, we’re not involved anymore.’

The scorching pain in Iwaizumi’s eyes is evident, even from a distance away. ‘Yeah. Well. I thought we were friends. You didn’t even tell me you were dating again’. He shoves his hands in his pockets, tossing another heated glance in Kiyoomi’s way.

‘I didn’t think I needed to update my ex-fiance about my love life, especially not when he’s trying to drag me to attend his wedding that I already said I’m not going to attend’, she bites back.

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, then closes it with a resounding snap. ‘I’m sorry’, he says, with heartbreaking honesty. ‘I told Tooru that you probably didn’t want to hear from us, but he insisted and I got worried when I didn’t hear from you for months’.

Kiyoomi can see her glare soften into molten sympathy. The tension in the air crackles with electricity. He’s neither blind nor stupid – he can sense the years of longing and love not quite lost between them.

He thinks she loves him, Sakusa Kiyoomi – weird habits, cold disposition and all, but the doubt clogging up his arteries and veins is enough to make his heart seize – and if she’s going to break his heart, he’d much rather she not do it in front of Iwaizumi.

‘Hajime - ‘ she begins to say, and at this point he jumps in -

‘I’ll excuse myself so you both have the chance to catch up’, he says, waving aside her protests as he slips on his shoes. Even in his haste to leave the house, he clicks his tongue at the mess Iwaizumi left behind at their genkan , kneeling down to arrange their shoes, only standing up when he’s satisfied they’re neatly arranged back in place.

‘Omi, you don’t have to leave’, she says, holding the door open.

He shrugs his shoulders at her, nose and mouth already obscured by his usual face mask. ‘Let me know when you’d like me to come back’.

If she’d like him to come back. She doesn’t chase after him, after all.

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning, but the golden sunshine feels more like a taunt rather than a balm to his mood. His stomach growls, making him long for the scrambled eggs he was in the middle of frying before he was so rudely interrupted, but his growing sense of nausea keeps him from seeking out an alternative meal.

Instead, he makes his way to the park, sits on a relatively clean bench. There are couples a-plenty, strolling around hand in hand, families picnicking merrily around him, compounding the growing chasm of loneliness in his chest. He tries to count the seconds by his breaths, tries not to let the minutes expand the insecurities crawling, inch by inch up his throat.

He sits alone. Poised, yet short of breath.

He wonders if Iwaizumi Hajime has finally figured out that stars, for all their brilliance, cannot compensate for their lack of human kindness. And if so, he wonders which direction her heart would point towards if it were a compass - whether it’s as broken as his, and whether it points towards Iwaizumi or him.

He waits.

Then his phone buzzes.

Ah.

She’s asking him to come home. He does not dare to overthink the meaning of that single word. But he does not hide that his steps back home are lighter than when he left, though the key in his hand shakes so hard it takes him three tries to fit it into the keyhole. He does not try to suffocate the seed of hope budding in the soft earth of his heart when he realises Iwaizumi’s shoes have vanished without a trace.

“Omi?”

She’s waiting for him, slipping warm arms around his waist, tangling her fingers in his curls, ignoring his complaints about letting himself wash his hands first.

‘Am I silly for missing you, even though it’s only been an hour?’

He refuses to be distracted by the affection in her voice.

‘But what about Iwaizumi?’ he frowns, hesitation still poisoning the well of thoughts in his mind.

Perhaps it’s a testament to how well they’ve grown to know each other that she doesn’t need to read the silent subtext of his statement. She smiles, bringing his palm flat against her chest, does not answer until his pulse matches the steady beat of her heart.

‘I love you , Omi’, she tells him. Her heartbeat does not quicken, her smile does not waver. ‘You told me not to long ago to always be upfront with you about what I want so I’m going to be honest with you now - Iwaizumi is only ever going to be my past, and I want you from now on’.

If her heart were a compass, the steady beat of her heart tells him, it would point only towards him.

‘That is – if you’ll have me’, she adds, a shadow of doubt suddenly appearing on her face.

‘Don’t be ridiculous’, he scoffs, burying his nose to breathe in the familiar scent of vanilla in her hair. ‘Who else would I rather have than you?’

Who else would he be lucky enough to call his home – a woman with a heart large enough to fit a whole ocean within its depths, with kindness in her eyes and mirth in her smiles.

She laughs in spite of the salt in her throat and water in her eyes, leaning on her toes in a vain attempt to reach his face. He lifts her into her arms, laughs when she squeals indignantly as her feet only find air, toppling them both onto the couch where he can seat her between his legs, press kisses to her cheeks.

She’ll tell him later that Iwaizumi came looking for her because he’s never outgrown his overprotective streak, and he’s truly happy for her - for them, because they’ve both moved on with their separate lives. And she ended up agreeing to attend his and Oikawa’s wedding on one condition – that an invitation is extended to him, Sakusa Kiyoomi, to attend with her as his date.

He’ll tell her later that he’s happy to attend the wedding with her, just not to expect him to smile in any wedding pictures. And more importantly, he’ll tell her in his plain way that the list of expectations he has of their relationship has expanded yet again.

He’ll lay out his dreams of a pair of matching golden rings to bind them to lifelong companionship, of hellspawn of their own and a dog, maybe two.

He’ll ask her if it’s too much for him to ask of her.

She’ll tell him that she’s willing to give him everything he asks for and more.

It’s Miya Shino’s ninth birthday party.

He’s retired from volleyball proper, and is thankful he insisted on getting a business degree from Chuo University before going pro, because it comes in handy working alongside Kuroo Tetsuro at the volleyball association.

Miya Atsumu insists on inviting him to the party, though he supposes he’s invited not by virtue of being a former teammate, but because he’s also Shino’s uncle by marriage now. The thought that he’s related to Miya Atsumu, however distant and most definitely not by blood, still fills him with dread.

The birthday girl is a little less imbued with her father’s chaotic energy this time, though she still squeals when her birthday cake is unveiled – though to be fair it’s less a cake, more a tower of cupcakes with cream cheese frosting spelling out her name.

‘Thank you Auntie!’ Shino cries, flinging her arms around her. Kiyoomi flinches at the sight of anyone, even his nine year old niece, coming in close contact with his extremely pregnant wife, but a sharp glare from her subdues any complaint he dares to make.

He fusses over her the minute he has the chance to corral her away from the clutches of Miya Shino. ‘Are your feet hurting? What about your back? I don’t know why you insist on walking so much when you know the doctor said you should be on bed rest soon’.

‘Stop fussing, Omi! The baby and I will be fine’, she replies, exasperated. ‘This is the last social event scheduled before I pop and I’m determined to enjoy it while I can.’ Then she scuttles off faster than he imagines her frame allows, leaving him floundering in her wake.

‘Just let her be’, Miya Atsumu laughs, slapping his back. Kiyoomi is on the verge of pointing out - pot, meet kettle, reminding Atsumu that the last time Kaiyo was pregnant, Atsumu didn’t stop fretting until she went into labour and delivered a healthy baby boy. But then he remembers the grief etched into Atsumu’s face when Kaiyo miscarried in the stands during a game, so he holds his tongue and rolls his eyes instead.

‘I’m just worried she’s pushing herself too hard’, he admits in a rare bout of vulnerability.

Atsumu smiles, genuine for once. ‘Those crazy women, eh? They’re always gonna drive us up the wall, but they’re worth every minute of it.’

He looks at her, belly swollen with their first child, peach blossoms blooming in her cheeks. His past self would never imagine that he’d find this much joy and contentment in being a husband and a father, but then again his past self was satisfied coming home alone day after day to a cold apartment. He knows better now - life is so better when he has her, sharing stories of their day of over steaming mugs of tea at their kitchen countertop, listening to her hum as she bakes treats for the weekend, warmth and laughter and love abound in their cosy apartment for two, soon to be three.

So feeling vaguely drunk though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in the months since she whispered during their anniversary dinner that they were expecting, Kiyoomi laughs aloud.

Atsumu lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

‘She really, really is’, Kiyoomi says, breaking into an unguarded smile.

If you wanna know more about the backstory of the reader - check out The Astrophile, and if you wanna know more about Miya Atsumu’s relationship with his wife, check out Storm Chaser.

As always, reblogs and/or comments are so very appreciated <3

Taglist:

@snoozless @softsakusa @moondaius (yeon i’ll be shameless and tag you cos I know you’re an Omi stan!)

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chrisevansmaid · 3 years

Text

Virginal

Summary: You go to a beach town in search of losing your virginity. The server at dinner is extra cute but it's also young Chris evans.

*this pic is from chris’s twitter*

MUST BE 18+!!!!

I see everyone saying this, so 18+ pleaseeeee. Begoneeeee youngins

Pairing: Chris Evans x female!reader, Young!Chris Evans x minor!reader, (Name inserted but you can switch it to yours)

Word Count: 3393

Perspective: Reader

Warnings: SMUTTT, p in v, mentions of smoking weed / dab pen, oral sex (female receiving), FLUFF AND ANGST, high sex, lowkey rough sex, dirty talk, degrading dirty talk, EXPLICIT sexual content, age gap, minor having sex with non-minor (17F with 20M),

Authors note:

FIRST FIC YAY!!!!!! Don't be mean pls <3.

I’m really bad at tenses so if it keeps switching from present to past tense sorry. The only grammar corrector I’m using is grammarly so if something doesn’t make sense oopsie, I’m too lazy from spending a while on this fic to go anal and analyze every sentence for errors.

Okay so… I’m a pisces which basically means I can never stop daydreaming. Also the backstory is lowkey gonna be my backstory lol. This is how I wished I lost my virginity plus make it Chris evans.

*THIS IS NOT BASED OFF OF CHRIS ITS FULLY FROM MY IMAGINATION*

Idk I'm bored and it's summer so I have nothing to do. YES THIS IS ABOUT A MINOR BUT IN MY STATE THE AGE OF CONSENT IS 16 SO CHILL.

18+ PLEASE STOP READING NOW IF YOU ARE A MINOR

So I’m a virgin. Not because I am a prude or anything, but it never worked. I like to self diagnose so my conclusion is I have vaginismus. That is basically rolled into my cervix/vagina clenches up whenever I try to have sex so no dick fits in and if anything does fit it's incredibly painful. It's not a matter of being turned on cus I could have Niagara Falls in my panties and it still wouldn’t work, trust me. Even being fingered was awful and I’ve been fingered like 10 times and none of them were enjoyable. My sister says I’m just really tight. Idk. I can finger myself and it's good-ish, I mean how far up can you reach with your own hand?

But I’ve had enough of being a virgin and I just want someone to blow my back out. Preferably some sexy older guy. And because I’m sick and tired of having an untapped pussy I’ve devised a plan. I am going to the beach in a week or so and I am going to find the guy who I had my first kiss with and have him fuck me. Or some other hot guy I meet. But to make sure my inhibitions are lowered and my vagina doesn’t clench from nerves I am gonna get a little high before.

1 week later.

My mom, stepdad, and I arrive at the beach and it is so pretty. I love this beach. It brings back so many good memories. I am rooming with my childhood friend, Sarah, and she knows I want to get fucked. We’ve snuck out before and we are so excited for this week. I take a picture of the beach and put it on my Snapchat story with my location tagged. This will let my first kiss know I’m near him so he can hit me up to fuck me.

The day goes by kinda slow because all I could think of was walking up and down the boardwalk trolling for hot men. Finally, night comes and all the families that are at the beach go to dinner. I was kinda bored but then our server came. He was something else.

“Hi my name’s Chris and I’ll be your server tonight.” Ugh. Even his voice made my whole body warm up. His greenish blue eyes stared into my soul as he took my order. His dirty blonde hair was perfectly quaffed and the way his black shirt hugged his biceps was absolutely sinful. Okay yes, he was probably in his early twenties but who said I was ageist. If anything an older man would know how to fuck a woman better than any stupid high school senior that I would meet.

I got up to go to the bathroom and saw Chris on my way. We locked eyes and didn't break contact until I went into the bathroom. As I stepped out of the bathroom I saw him again. It looked like he was waiting for me. His body was leaned up against the wall across from the bathroom I had just exited. He stopped me and said “Call me.” and handed me a piece of paper. Before I had a chance to say anything he turned and I was watching his perfect ass walk away.

I went back to the table as if nothing happened. I don’t think anyone noticed my uncontrollable smile. Throughout the dinner, I could not tear my eyes away from our sexy server. I think Sarah noticed but I was gonna tell her about it when my parents weren’t right there. We finished dinner and all went back to the beach house. When we got back I told Sarah and she was so shook. We were racking our brains on what I should text Chris. I didn’t want to come off too strong but also I wanted this man to fuck me. So we settled on:

“Hey”

Yes. I know it's lame but he’s older defffffinitely older and I can’t act too young. Ugh, I am so scared of his response it's absolutely killing me. Sarah, two other girls that came to the beach, and I decide to go out for ice cream. At least ice cream would take my mind off waiting for a response. As we wait in line I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pull it out and it’s Chris.

“I thought I told you to call me” His response is very bold but for some reason, it only intrigues you more. Immensely more. I show Sarah and she smiles.

“Guess who’s getting her wish tonight.”

“Oh my god,” I respond. “What do I say?” I am literally so scared that he will think I’m too young or too much of a child.

“Um, don’t say anything. Call him.” Sarah says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Do I actually call him? I’m literally getting the worst knots in my stomach and now I have to shit and I’m literally so nervous over a phone call. I am not a spontaneous person. AT ALL.

“Okay, I’m gonna call him.” I say to Sarah after literally pondering this for 5 minutes.

Oh god. This is so scary. I tell Sarah to get me a vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles and I step out of the line. I go to the walkway near the ice cream shop away from the crowd so I can hear better. I dial his number and put the phone to my ear.

It rings like 3 times and he picks up.

“Hey.” He says and his voice is even sexier than I remember.

“Hey.” I literally didn’t know what to say and I am pacing up and down the sidewalk.

“So you must be the hot girl I gave my number to.”

“And you must be the sexy server.” Some wave of confidence came over me and that was the best response I could come up with.

“So what’s your name?”

“Olivia and if I remember correctly, your name is...” I paused to let him fill in the blank

“Chris.”

“Chris, that's right.” I wanted to come off like I didn’t hang onto every word he said and so I played it off like his name wasn’t already filling my fantasies.

“So Liv, when am I gonna see you again?” He asks and this caught me a little off guard that he would jump straight to the point but I guess why prolong the inevitable.

“I don’t know, when are you free?”

“Can I pick you up tonight around 12?” Ugh yes. My plan was filling out nicely.

“Sounds great.” I mean what else am I supposed to say?

“Send me where you’ll be and I’ll pick you up then.” His assertive tone was a panty fucking dropper.

“Okay. See you then Chris.” I’ve picked up from my previous male experiences that if you say a guy's name he’ll be more inclined to fuck you. I mean I totally pulled that out of my ass but I wanted to sound like a confident vixen, not some 17 year old virgin.

“Bye Liv.” The way he made up a nickname for me had me reddening in my cheeks and warming in my core. I say bye and hang up. As soon as the call ends I’m running back to Sarah and telling her every little detail. Okay, I really needed to get back home and shit.

Sarah, the other girls, and I go back to the house and hang out for like an hour, and then it’s 11 and all the parents are asleep. I need to start preparing. So I take a phat shit and then shower even though I showered before dinner but I need to wash off my nervous sweats. I shave everywhere and when I get out I lotion my entire body, put on my sexy lingerie, and douse myself with perfume. I do my makeup but it’s simple and of course waterproof. I text Chris the address of the beach house but tell him to pick me up a couple houses down. I tell Sarah she needs to sneak out with me so if we get caught I can pretend me and her were just hanging outside the house. Sarah and I sneak out the back and bring her cart. I take a couple hits to calm myself down because god forbid I tense up before he can get his dick in. It's like 11:55. God my stomach is in knots.

It’s 12. ‘Oh god’ I think to myself. I see a white range rover pull up at the end of the block. I say bye to Sarah and walk to the car. I see his face. Oh, fuck still sexy. I open his car door and jump into the passenger seat.

“Hey.” I say

“Hey, Liv.” He says back. Him saying that little nickname he gave me is so much hotter in person. So so so much hotter. I think he knows what it does to me because his lips curl into a smirk. “Let’s go for a drive.” Chris says.

“Okay, I’m down.” I say back and kinda rethinking saying ‘I’m down’ because he is definitely rethinking how old I am.

We start driving around and talking and thank god the radio is on to fill any silence there could be. It’s on the country station and him liking country music is literally another added bonus. Then When it Rains it Pours comes on and I say “Omg I love this song.”

“Really?” He says back. “I’ve never met a girl as pretty as you that actually likes country music.”

“Are you kidding? I love country music.” I say back not noting he just called me pretty. We mindlessly chat for like 20 minutes and Chris pulls the car into an empty parking lot that overlooks the whole beach town.

“This is so pretty.” I say in awe of the gorgeous view. I can see from the corner of my eye that Chris is just looking at me.

“Not as good as my view.” He says back in a soft tone that has me melting to the floor of the car. I look back at him and we sit in silence just staring into each other's eyes. I glance at his lips and they look so kissable. They are the perfect amount of plump without being too big. When I look back to his eyes he is still staring at me. His lips almost form a smile and he grabs and cheek and kisses me. It’s even better than each and every one of my fantasies. I grab the back of his neck and kiss him even harder back. Before I know it the kiss gets more rushed and Chris is running his hands along the curve of my back. Our lips are crashing into each others with fervor like no other. He pulls me into his lap and he ruts his hips upward. He takes his left hand and moves the seat back and starts kissing down my neck. His lips leave little bite marks and he reaches my bosoms. He pulls my tank top down and pulls my breasts out of my bra and sucks on my right nipple as he pinches the left. Soft mewls leave my lips and he stops to look at me and the rush of cold air sends goosebumps across my skin. He leans up and kisses my neck and leaves marks all the way to my ear lobe and whispers “Before I fuck you until you can’t remember your name, How old are you?”

Forming words is harder than I imagined so between pants I say back “17.”

“Perfect” he whispers back while still biting my neck. “Come here” he says as he opens the door. I hop off him and outside the car and see the tent forming in his pants. He picks me up and wraps my legs around him and pins me against the car door. He bites my lip and I can’t imagine anything better than this moment. While still mounted on his he opens the door to the backseat and lays me down. He gets on top of me and shuts the door behind him. He ruts against my core and his jeans rub against the soft fabric of my athletic shorts. Although my mind is completely fixed on his engorged cock a thought forms in my mind. What if he thinks I’ve done this before? What If I’m so bad he doesn’t even speak to me again? These thoughts completely cloud my mind and Chris notices.

“What's wrong?” he says as he pulls away. I glance at his bitten lips and pant trying to form words.

“Nothing just, I... I’m a virgin.” I blurt out. I am so scared I ruined the moment but his expression only intensifies.

“Oh well we just can’t have that now can we?” He says back and his lust blown pupils grow darker and he kisses me with such intensity my thoughts completely leave my mind. I could get drunk off the taste of him. Chris breaks the kiss and rips off his shirt showing his perfectly chiseled abs. I felt them through the cotton but seeing them right in front of my eyes makes my mouth open. My lips peak into a smile and he picks me up and places my back closer to the car door. He rips off my shorts and starts kissing down my neck to my navel and I run my fingers through his hair. My chest rises and falls quicker as his lips reach my red lace covered mound. His teeth grab the waistband and he pulls off my panties.

He inhales and says “So sweet.” His husky voice vibrating against my core. His kisses dance around my thighs. As more sounds leave my mouth Chris bites my skin. His hands hold my legs open as he licks down my folds. His tongue flickers across my clit leaving me trembling. I had never felt this way from anyone ever. My fingers run through his short dirty blonde hair and my nails dig into his scalp leaving crescent shaped indents. He slips his middle finger through my folds as he sucks on my clit. His fingers curl up hitting a spot I never knew existed. A feeling in my stomach starts intensifying and spreading through my entire body and I tremble in euphoria. Chris finger fucks me through my first ever orgasm. I shut my eyes tightly and when I open them Chris is staring right at me. I grab the hair on the nape of his neck and pull him back up to kiss me. I can taste myself still on his tongue as the material of his jeans rubs against my sensitive bud. His fingers pinch my nipples as he slips his tongue between my lips. I reach down and feel his throbbing cock through his pants. As I rub with the palm of my hand, throaty moans leave his mouth. Nothing was stronger than my desire to be fucked raw by this sex god. I pulled away from the kiss and say as I stare deep into his eyes “Fuck me Chris.” My words are efficacious to him.

He licked his lips like an animal locked onto his prey. “Don’t have to ask me twice.” He pulls down his jeans and takes his cock out of his boxers. I have seen a dick before but never that big. My mouth almost dropped to the floor. He pulled a condom out of the back of the seat and wrapped it around his cock. He pumped his dick a few times before running the head along my sodden folds. “You ready?” I had never been more ready for anything in my entire life. Unable to form words I nodded my head. Chris pushes his cock into me slowly. I gasped at the feeling. I wasn’t as tight as I usually was but it still stung. Each inch stung a little more until he bottomed out into me. He stilled. His breath was hot on my ear as our breathing synced. I gasped again as he pulled his hips back. I reached down and pulled him back into me.

“Don’t hold back.” I said. I wanted this to be as enjoyable for him as it was for me. Chris pulled out and thrust back into me again. The groans that left this throat made my pussy clench around him. He picks up his pace and pain turns into pleasure. My legs wrap around his thighs and I’m pulling him into me.

“You dirty little slut. So needy.” He whispered into my ear. The sound that escaped my lips drew him deeper in like a moth to a flame. Chris drives his cock into me faster so that all you can hear is breathy moans and the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin. Chris moves his hand to my throat and squeezes. I try to moan but they catch in my throat and I look back at Chris. His mouth is agape and he is staring deep into my eyes. He thrusts so deep my eyes roll back and I have to shut them. He grabs my chin and pulls my face to meet his. “Look at me. Don’t look away. I want to see your face as I make you cum on my dick.” His cock is hitting places he didn’t even reach when fingering me. Another orgasm rips through me and my body trembles harder this time. Chris fucks me through my orgasm and just as I regained my mental awareness I could feel another one coming on. Chris squeezes harder on my neck as he sucks on my hardened nipples. He bites my skin and takes his hand from my neck and reaches between our sweaty writhing bodies and pinches my clit. A guttural moan leaves my throat as another excruciatingly intense orgasm takes over my entire body. I can tell Chris isn’t far behind because his thrusts become sporadic and he puts all his body weight into his last thrust and stills. The noises he makes me wish he was still fucking me. He leans down to meet my lips once again but this time it is slower and more gingerly. He pulls his dick out and lays down on top of me.

We catch our breaths and I say. “Wow, that was.. fuck.”

Chris softly laughs and says “Who knew a 17 year old could have me in the palm of their hand.”

“Who knew a however-old-you-are would take my virginity.” I say with a smile on my face.

“I’m 20, I probably should have told you earlier.” He says looking a little guilty.

“Don’t worry it would have only turned me on more.” I laugh back and our lips join in a soft kiss.

Chris and I look at the dashboard and see it's 1:30 am. “Shit I should probably get home before my friend worries too much.” I say looking back at Chris and he nods. We sit up and reach down for our clothes. I reach for my underwear and Chris snatches it from my hands.

“These are mine now.” Chris smirks.

“Fine.” I put on my shorts and pull my top back on. Sadly Chris covers his humongous biceps with his shirt. I lean in and meet Chris with a kiss. We get back into our respective seats and Chris looks at me with a dumb smile.

“Why are you staring at me?” I say with a giggle.

“Oh, nothing.” Chris says and his smile only looks more like a 6 year old who just stole a cookie before dinner. I mean technically he did just steal something but that's beside the point. Chris puts the car back into drive and turns around to back up.

As he drives me home there's more small talk but then he asks “How long will you be in town?”

“A week,” I say. Chris’s dumb smile returns. “Okay, what's that smile for?”

Chris looks at me and says “I’m just excited to fuck you every night this week.”

#chris evans #cevans #firstfanfic #yay #excited #chris evans fanfc #chris evans x reader #young chris evans #chris evans x female reader #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #smut #fluff #beach #stranger smut

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nightowlfandom · 3 years

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Yandere! Corrupt Angel! Keigo Takami X Demon! Reader- Episode 1/3: The Same Side Of A Coin

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Hey friends.....this is a ride Theres talkings of suicide, sinning, degredation, heaven vs hell and religious themes. You’ve been warned.

Leggo

...

You stood in the middle of the dancefloor, staring around the room. Once a year heaven and hell would come together and host the gala of the century. The Dark One and The Holy One would set aside their differences one day out of the year and host a party bringing both their children together for a huge affair.

Every demon and angel across the nine realms would show up. The beautiful, the ethereal, and the not so beautiful too. You watched as each leader sat respectfully on their thrones.

You watched as The Dark One looked over his people. It was times like this you admired the man. Your soul had mistakenly fallen to the pits of hell when an angel who wouldn’t do their job correctly denied your entry to heaven. You were given special treatment as a result.

The other demons knew you didn’t do anything wrong and they didn’t hold it against you. In fact, the other demons treated you like a kid sister. They never let you near any real demon business.

“Ah, Young Y/N! Come!” The Dark One waved you over. “There’s someone you must meet my child.”

“Yes, Sir!” you gave a thumbs up from the crowd. “Excuse me, Pardon me.” you shimmied through the crowd. You caught the eye of many angels. The other demons spoke highly of you, saying how the feather freaks would be lucky to have you...they were right.

You wore a black gown, with a pretty decorative necklace. Your wrists were decorated in beautiful lace cuffs that matched the rings on your right hand.

“Y/N, my word you look beautiful as ever.” The Dark One praised. “I want you to meet-”

“The Holy One, I know you...my family speaks...spoke-” you corrected yourself. “Highly of you.”

“Y/N, as I live and breathe. Old Goat Face wasn’t kidding.”

“Oh shut up and fix your bedsheet, Cloud Breath.”

You giggled as the two argued like siblings.

“Y/N, I would like to personally apologize. I’m afraid some of my children can be quite...elite about who the let through the gates.”

You remember being thrown down the stairs, falling for a while, then landing next to a lake of lava. Of course that was a while ago.

“It’s okay...not like I was the purest soul in the world anyways.” you shrugged.

“Sin does not define you my child, I’m sure your heart would have landed you here with me had a different angel been working that day.”

That didn’t change the fact that you were booted to hell. No one could change that even if they wanted to.

“Ah! Keigo My boy! Over here!” You watched as The Holy One waves someone over. You kept your eyes on the Dark One.

“How are you holding up, dear?”

“I’m well.” you bowed respectfully. “Sorry for not socializing enough.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, my dear girl. As long as you are enjoying yourself.”

You smiled, about to reply when a new body came into the picture. A tall man, in a black tuxedo strode up to you, the dark, and the holy One. he was obviously an angel from his golden thin rimmed halo hanging above his head of sandy brown hair. Only instead of white wings, his were blood red. They were unlike any you’ve ever seen before. You had never seen a higher level angel before in the flesh.

“Y/N, Triple 6....this is Keigo.”

“Nice to meet you, man. Don’t let twinkle toes tell you anything about us. Demons aren’t so bad. Y/N here is proof of that.”

“Y/N huh?” you finally met his sharp eyes. His gaze held yours for what felt like an eternity. His smug expression slightly faltered as he stared at you. His lips parted slightly at the sight of you. Never in all his days had he seen such a low level demon hold such a high priestess appearance. “I’m...charmed to meet you.”

“Likewise.” you bowed your head respectfully. You had noticed a few select demons getting near you. All the upper levels seemed to glare at this Keigo person with intense hate and you were positive it wasn’t just because of the color differences.

“You don’t have horns.”

“Excuse me?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You have no horns.” he said again, a smirk teasing his lips.

You moved your hair from in front of your forehead to reveal two little bone-ish stubs. They weren’t sharp, nor prominent like the higher-ups. You remembered the others saying you needed horns that fit you just right. They would grow...eventually.

“Hm, Keigo, Y/N...why don’t you two go on the dancefloor?” The Holy One asked.

“With this asshole? No thanks.” you rolled your eyes. “You think just because your higher up than me, you can disrespect me?” you crossed your arms. (Read more below the break)

...

“Disrespect. Dear girl, it was merely an observation!” he looked amused at your anger.

“Don’t you smile at me.” you seethed. “I know a pompous ass when I see it.”

“Y/N, do try and calm yourself.” The Dark One put a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it with malice.”

“Come on. What do you say.” he held out his hand. He winked.

“Only because I refuse to say no to a God twice.” you seethed.

Everyone watched as Keigo, wings spread crossed the dancefloor with you on his arm. You obviously weren’t too happy, given your first impression had already down down the drain.

He’d better not touch Y/N if he knows what’d good for him,

Keigo of all people, dancing with a demon doesn’t surprise me.

You tried to ignore the gossip as a hand rested at the base of your spine. Keigo looked down at you, his smugness unwavering as he began move with you to the music. It was a low, slow jazzy tune with what could be described as a ‘sensual piano’ melody.

“I really didn’t mean it the way you took it, doll.” he whispered in your ear. “But you’ve got fire, I respect that.”

“I..I’m sorry.” you sighed. “I’m just...used to people degrading me because-”

“This is so new to you.” he finished, his smile slightly faltering. “I was like that too, thousands of years ago.”

“Well I’m on year two so-” you scoffed. “It’s not that bad...I guess. Hell isn’t as bad as the books say it is.”

“Well heaven isn’t all clouds and rainbows either, doll. I’ve been banished so many times I’ve lost count.”

“Banished? I don’t understand.” you tilted your head to the side.

Keigo could see what was left of your innocent aura hanging around you. Most people who fell into the pits of hell were already long gone with no trace of human emotion or attachment. You...were different. It reminded him of...himself once upon a time.

“I’ve gone rogue. They tried to restrain me but they give keep giving me chances.” he shook his head. “That’s the think about the Cloud Kingdom, dear. They refuse to believe there are bad people in the world.”

“Is that why...your wings are-”

‘No...that’s more of a stylistic choice...can’t let all those souls go to waste can I?” he winked. “Red suits me don’t you think.”

“Y-yes.” you replied honestly, finding it hard to lie.

“So what about you?” he raised an eyebrow. Among the hum of the other patrons and the music, not to mention your demonic heart thumping loudly against your chest you felt Keigo’s breath on the shell of your ear. It was like he was telling you a secret. “What brings you to the pits...killing an ant by accident?”

“My application for the gates was apparently denied.”

“No why would that be.” you don’t look like the type to sin.

“Trust me.” you shook your head. “I’ve sinned more times than I can count...I guess putting a bullet in my head was the last straw.”

Keigo’s breath hitched in his throat as you told your story. You...you shot yourself? Such a small thing? You weren’t a murderer, or god forbid anything else. He felt himself silently fill with rage. You had the glow of an angel that was for sure.

“I’ve come to terms with it. Guess I wasn’t worthy.” you shrugged.

“You are always worthy.” he abruptly cut you off. “It’s these white wear wearing, cloud riding fuckers that aren’t worthy.” he seethed. ‘What other sins could you have possibly committed.”

“...The Dark One hasn’t told you?...I’m a lust demon in training.” you explained. “I used sex to fill voids when I was alive. When I couldn’t replace my pain with pleasure...kapow!” you put your fingers to your head and faked a gunshot.

“Lust demon?” Keigo raised an eyebrow. “That explains why you look so sexy tonight.” he flirted.

“Are you hitting on me?” your eyes widened.

“Depends. Do you like it?”

You hadn’t noticed that Keigo body was flush against yours. Skin to skin. You felt warm, scorching hot beneath him. That was the demon fire.

“Y-yeah.” you nodded. “I do...wow-” you stepped back from him and fanned yourself.

“Is everything alright?” Keigo stepped forward and laced his hands in yours.

“What have you done to our sister?” a high priestess demoness waltzed up. She glared at Keigo who seemed unfazed, only raising an eyebrow. “Y/N, Dear are you alright?”

“I don’t know.” your chest heaved. “I feel- so...” you partially moaned.

“What has this angel scum done to our sister.” a male demon stormed up. He unfurled his dragon-esque wings. “Sister Y/N, say something.”

“I need air...I have to go outside.” you immediately walked away. Keigo, in a confused state watched you walk away.

“Sister Y/N is unwell! We must go after her.”

“She’ll be fine, we’ll know if she’s in trouble.”

Call it instinct, but he had to follow you.

106 notes · View notes

dtyfp · 2 years

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Lily masterlist

"Don't worry about me, Mork, you know better than that."

As he sat in the hospital waiting room, after physically hauling Jeno down before he could fight the doctors for doing their jobs, he felt guilt. He knew Lily hadn't been feeling well and he had convinced himself that she was well enough to join in on their practice. The next thing he knew, Taeyong was calling them and telling them to come to the hospital because something had happened. Yuta had blood on his hands, and Taeyong had looked stressed like Mark had never seen him.

Mark always knew what it was like to have a sister, his was his cousin and growing up they had done everything together. Of course, now with their jobs they didn't see each other everyday anymore, but the bond was still there. He was glad she and Lily had become friends. It made sense, two of the most important woman (the three way tie including his mom) became close.

He kept an eye on her as she said something to Jaehyun. He liked Jaehyun, trusted him, Jaehyun was his member and like a brother so he didn't object when they told him about their relationship, it wasn't fair of him to. They promised to keep it casual if they ever broke up so it wouldn't affect him, but god forbid he do something that hurt Nabi, Mark would knock him out. If there were sides to be taken, Mark knows exactly where he stands.

"Do you know what this reminds me of?" Mark asks Nabi, who had arrived not long ago and joined him after consoling Yeri and speaking with Jaehyun. She shrugs and waits for his answer.

"Do you remember when we were kids and I used to climb that big oak tree out front? The one time you followed me up there, you fell out and bust your head open. Your parents, my parents, and I had to wait for a bit before the doctors told us anything and it felt like this. I should've just stopped climbing when you followed me, or told you to stay put or something," Mark laments as he glances over at his cousins scar that sat on her hairline. Nabi had never really thought about that day after the fact, she was out of the hospital the next day and it wasn't talked about again. She never did climb that tree, neither did Mark actually. She supposes he had it worse then she did, he had to wait for news, he was the one that saw all the blood and called for help.

"I didn't know you still thought about that," Nabi admits.

"Of course I do, Bi, I thought I killed you. You only went up there because of me...if it had been worse then it would've been on me," Mark sighs.

"But it wasn't," she reminds him.

"But it could have, Nabi, that's the point. You're my family, I have a responsibility for you-"

"You don't have a responsibility over me-"

"Damn it, Nabi, yes I do! It's not even because I'm a guy and you're a girl, but I'm older and you have always been my responsibility, whether or not I made it obvious. I keep messing things up with the both of you. I knew Lily wasn't feeling well and I let her convince me she was okay, and now look at what happened," Mark spazzes.

"Lily will be fine, Mark. Isn't it better that she was with the rest of you when she got worse? She would've gotten worse regardless, and she would still be at the dorm without help," Nabi consoles her cousin, realizing he's upset about something more then the past.

"I should've known better," he shakes his head.

"You couldn't have known better, Mark. You only remember the bad stuff, you do us both a lot of good as well. You're not the only one who knew she was sick, don't blame yourself," she frowns. Mark was stressed she could tell, he had to keep it together though because 6 other boys depended on him to do so. If he freaked out, so would they. Nabi would never understand the influence and pressure both Mark and Lily had on them, they were the eldest in Dream and became defacto parents and leaders. Many doubted them, but Mark and Lily led them to success. Mark, while he knew Nabi worked hard to get where she was, didn't expect her to understand his own struggle. Nabi has always been the maknae and Mark had always been the older, Jisoo and Jennie usually took care of things before she even knew they were problems.

"I know, but it's Lily," Mark sighs, blinking away tears as he wrings his hands. Mark doesn't know when, but at one point he had put Nabi and Lily up on the same pedestal. When people asked about his family, he'd tell them about Nabi and he'd find himself talking about Lily as well. She was his roommate, she laughed at all his jokes even if they weren't funny, they debuted together, joined 127 together, raised Dream, graduated high school together, left Dream together, and were now set to join yet another group. She was his sister too, his family just like Nabi was.

"I know, it's Lily. You know what she would say if she saw you right now," Nabi reminds him.

"Don't worry until you have a reason to," Mark sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair.

"Exactly, and we don't have a reason to yet. Just relax and stop blaming yourself."

"Junbug, everything alright?"

Renjun looks up from his drawing and nods his head. Lily smiles and pats his head, he liked it when Lily patted his head, it made him feel like he did a good job. Lily was always telling him he was doing a good job. He was sat on the couch so she slides in behind him. When Renjun looks over, she looks as though she's going down for a nap. She liked being around people, he learned in the time he spent around her, so it was no surprise she squeezed in around him.

After some time, he looks down at his drawing and can't help but feel its incomplete. With a sigh, he looks around and lands on her arm. She had a scar on her forearm, from what she said were because of hospital visits over the years. Off camera, she usually hid them and the makeup crew usually put makeup over it for performances, which only furthered her belief that they were 'imperfect'. With his artistic instincts pulsing through his veins and a new canvas he's never painted on, he grabs his paints and draws a pretty nighttime landscape on her arm. Eventually, due to the brush strokes, she wakes as he draws stars around her scars.

"What are you doing?" she asks, though she makes no effort to move her arm.

"Painting. You don't mind, do you?" he asks, realizing that perhaps he should've asked for permission before painting on her.

"No, no, go ahead. It looks pretty," she hums. He supposes he has Lily to thank for art therapy. Sure, he had always loved being creative, but through the help she suggested he get, he channeled it into something more productive. The only thing she asked in return was his art, which he occasionally gifted her and always found hung up in her room somewhere.

"I think you're really pretty, noona," Renjun tells you, which causes you to snort.

"Thanks Junbug," she chuckles.

"No, I meant it like maybe you shouldn't always hide your scars. There's nothing wrong with them and sometimes you look uncomfortable when people see it. You shouldn't have to hide this part of yourself, they're the reason you're alive after all. Maybe we should appreciate them a little more," Renjun shrugs as he blows his paint dry.

"You really think so?" you ask as you lift your arm to look at the paint. He nods in agreement as you sit up.

"I'll talk to the stylists about it then. Are you hungry? Should we make something?"

"Agi, what's up? Why the long face?"

Jeno first met Lily through pre-debut preparations for Dream. At the time, she was already a little comfortable with Mark since they debuted together, and Haechan who debuted a month earlier with 127. He remembers having a crush, he knew he shouldn't but he was like 16 and thought she was pretty. He, of course, eventually grew out of it. He blames it on the fact she was the first girl who gave him attention and liked listening to him.

Becoming a second leader within Dream came naturally to him. He was good at it. He was good at keeping on track with schedules. Mark was, of course, the Dreamies leader who they honestly adored despite the teasing, but Jeno was #2. When he graduated, it was only natural that Jeno stepped up and the others seemingly followed his lead when it came to work. He didn't realize how much the elder duo did until it all fell on his shoulders. He didn't realize how easy he had it with all her doting. Even after they graduated, Mark and Lily remained close, occasionally spending time in their dorm and just hanging out when they had free time, but it wasn't the same. No one said it, but they all felt it. To be honest, he was a little hurt when he heard from Haechan that you had another offer. He felt like you lied when you had said you'd remain as close as you already did, but you now you weren't telling him something as big as this. Apparently, SM offered to take you out of NCT and make you leader in their new girl group they were planning on debuting sometime the next year. So, when Lily comes in, he's sulking.

"Why didn't you tell me about the girl group offer?" Jeno crosses his arms.

"Oh, I didn't realize you wanted to know. I only brought it up to 127 because I'm still part of that group," you answer in surprise.

"So what? You're just not in Dream anymore? Now we're not friends?" Jeno asks, beginning to feel a little heated.

"Aye, okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to look like that," she apologizes, and with that, Jeno feels bad for being mad. If he thought about it, it would've been easier for her in a girl group. The endless hate she got for being in NCT would stop, she'd be around like minded girls, and after the hard time she had this year he knew Lily deserved nothing but easy. She was good at that, at addressing his problems without minimizing them or making him feel as though he was acting dramatic. But he felt selfish.

"You're not leaving NCT are you?" he asks quietly. Last he heard from Haechan, she hadn't made a decision.

"No, Jeno, I'm not. It's NCT or nothing for me," she tells him.

"You could have just said that before but you thought about it and made me worry," he frowns.

"Next time I'll let you know, okay? Why don't we go get something eat, we haven't hung out just you and me for a while," she offers, holding her hand out enticingly. With all his anger dissipated, he reaches out and lets her pull him up.

"I feel like ramyeon, you?"

"Haechan, be careful."

Haechan was the maknae, or at least one of, the maknae's in every group he was in. He was the youngest in 127, and part of the maknae line in Dream. So, suffice to say, he took full and complete advantage. Dream had never agreed to be same age friends, Mark and Lily never let them, but the younger boys gradually began treating the elder members like their junior and it just came about the same way. Sure, they used honorific's here and there but it wasn't strict, Chenle had even gone as far as to treat Mark and Lily like his children. Seeing as they were same aged friends, NCT Dream could get very savage. Mark and Lily were definitely the approachable punching bags for the team, more often then not on the wrong side of a joke. Dream was, at least, careful in ensuring the jokes never went too far. The '99 duo didn't mind though, they took it all in stride which is why the others felt so comfortable teasing them.

NCT 127 was a different story. It wasn't like they were any less close but the dynamics, understandably, were different. Haechan was definitely the mood maker in both teams, but seeing as 127 were a bit older and there was definitely a minor generational gap, sometimes they didn't take to his jokes as well. When they're all busy with work, perhaps a little stressed and Haechan decides to pop a joke, they'll easily become fed up and shut it down. But Lily encourages his fun, defending his right to be a child and often convincing the others to as well. She couldn't help but think some of them had debuted a bit too early, and in such, she made sure they wrung every drop of youth they could.

"Let him have his fun," you stop Taeyong before he can yell for Haechan, who ran ahead, to come back.

"We're supposed to be doing this vlog thing together," Taeyong reminds you, a little annoyed at the end of a long day.

"We'll make him go with the shopping crew and give him the camera then. Let him have his fun for now," you gentle him, smiling softly as Haechan's loud laughter can be heard ahead as Johnny joins him. With a sigh, knowing he wouldn't get anywhere anyway, Taeyong gives in and begins his segment.

"How are you feeling Jaeminnie?"

Jaemin felt robbed. Not actually robbed, but robbed of time. He spent most of Mark and Lily's time in Dream recovering from an injury. He felt bad, he wasn't upholding his part in the team and when he finally did come back, they grew up and left. He tried coming back early, insisting he felt fine, but Lily kept stopping him until he blew up.

"It's like you don't even want me back! If you want Dream to be 7 then just say it," Jaemin frowns.

"Yah, Jaemin, you know I don't think that. Your health is so important, if you come back early you'll just make your leg worse and the damage won't be repairable. Take your time, the team will wait for you get better, but you have to be 100%," she frowns as she forces him to sit. Even though they hadn't known each other long, it was easy for Jaemin to lean on her.

"What if people forget about me?" Jaemin gives in.

"They won't forget, how can anyone forget this face, hm?" she asks as she pats his cheek comfortingly.

"We'll remind them if we have to, together. But you are not coming back until the doctor says you can and I don't have to worry about you during a performance. You're good, Jaemin, but not come back early and dance on a hurt leg good," you tell him.

"What if I come back after you and Mark hyung are gone?" he frowns. That was what he was most worried about, the graduating system was something everyone was always talking about and with Jaemin at home on the internet, he felt like he couldn't escape it. He wanted to come back now and make memories or whatever.

"It's not like Mark and I will fall off the face of the earth once we graduate. We'll be around. We're the original NCT Dream group, all 8 of us, no one can take that from us, hm? We'll figure it out, don't worry too much about it, that should be the least of your worries. You can't get rid of me just yet," you tell him as you sit next to him.

"I'm sorry I got so mad at you," Jaemin frowns, dropping his head to her shoulder, partly so he doesn't have to face her, feeling guilt at blowing up at the one person bold enough to approach him.

"It's okay, you're just getting a little stir crazy. Why don't we go for a walk, stretch that leg maybe, get some food," you suggest.

"Can we get tteokbokki from that place near the river?" he asks.

"Sure, love, whatever you want. Come on, go get dressed."

"Lele, everything alright?"

Chenle was always comforted by the fact Lily was around, his family was too. When Dream first started, she and Mark really took care of the others even if they didn't know what they were doing themselves. Chenle didn't even realize how much they did until he got a little older. They took responsibility for things he hadn't even thought of, sure there were managers and staff, but they were there to make sure work was done. Mark and Lily took care of that and everything else. Kids taking care of kids. They had only debuted a few months before the others, but perhaps took on more than they should have. He remembers feeling awkward around Lily at first since she was a girl. He had spent all his, albeit short, trainee time being separated from the opposite gender and he was just naturally shy. He hadn't even trained for that long either, so he didn't really know anyone. So, she was the first one to approach him. He had been struggling with his Korean, which honestly wasn't even that bad but he had a slight blunder during a schedule and he couldn't get it out of his head. She had comforted him, let him know she had the same problems, and offered to take some extra classes with him so he didn't have to go alone. She could also see he was feeling homesick and maybe a little lonely, even if he didn't admit it. Sure, he had his parents from home but it didn't feel the same. He felt bad complaining to Renjun who had less then him here, and Winwin was in another group entirely so he felt bothersome. During those classes they became closer, and it became easier and easier for him to depend on her. Even though she lived in another dorm and he lived out with his parents, she'd always invite him over to ensure he felt just as much part of the team as he was. Now, she seemingly solves his problems before he even notices they're there. Technically, she wasn't that much older then them all, Chenle sometimes felt a guilt he couldn't help her in the way she helped him, but he's eternally grateful she does.

"Don't listen to them, Jisungie, I think you're doing perfectly fine."

Jisung has debuted young. Part of him was grateful he did, he began working at a young age and he could work and do what he loved for a longer amount of time, he met his members, and of course, school became less important so he didn't have to worry too much about it. But another part of him couldn't help but mourn the youth he inevitably left behind as he was thrust into the spotlight. Kids his age were playing out in the fields until the sun set and their mothers called them home, Jisung was instead missing out on school trips and practicing in a tiny practice room. People doubted NCT Dream, he knew that, solely because of their age, and he wanted to prove them all wrong.

Lily rarely got angry, in the years since the NCT members knew her, they can't actually remember a time they saw her get mad. But, she could get rather protective of "her boys" and when she felt they were mistreated, no one, not even Johnny, could physically hold her back. So, that's how they ended up here, with Lily arguing with one of the choreographers.

"You can't talk to him like that!"

"I can if he still isn't getting the choreography. It's easy, if you can get it then he can," he, a grown man, argues with a 16 year old Lily Bae.

"What's that supposed to mean? That the choreo is easy because a girl can do it? I don't care what you think, ahjussi, no one is allowed to yell at my members, especially over something as minor as this-"

"It's not minor, this is for your music video!"

"If it's for our music video, then I guess that means we can't film anything until we learn the dance. They will wait for us. Jisung is still a child, he is trying his best. Do you think yelling at him will make him learn faster?" you challenge.

"I think we've all had a long day and our tempers are flaring. Practice is over anyway, let's go before someone says something they'll regret," Jisung suggests as he gently pulls you away. You don't argue, don't even apologize for getting so angry as you grab your bag and follow Jisung out.

"You know you'll have to apologize tomorrow," Jisung tells you.

"I know, and I will, but he can't talk to you like that. What does he think yelling is going to accomplish? All these people think they can just walk all over us because we're young," you grit your teeth, taking a deep breath after to calm yourself down.

"That hyung is usually pretty calm-headed, maybe he just had a bad day. He's never been like that before," Jisung wonders out loud.

"Maybe, but that still doesn't excuse how he treated you," you tell him, calmer now as you wrap an arm around the younger and shorter boy.

"Thanks, noona, for defending me," Jisung smiles up at you.

"Of course, we're a team now, aren't we? Don't worry about the dance, you'll get it eventually," you tell him as you ruffle his hair. Jisung has never had an older sister before, but after spending some time with Lily and quickly growing fond of her, he's glad he has one now.

#24th member of nct #nct #nctdream #kpop imagine #kpop oc #dtyfp #Kpop imagine

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angelhummel · 3 years

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Honestly Brittany is underhated in my opinion lmao. Like I was literally waiting for ages for someone to make a negative thread about I am unicorn on reddit so I could hate on her. Last time someone made a thread about that episode said "Kurt was an asshole to yell at Brittany. He could have kindly explained to her to remove the posters" like he did? But Brittany went to ahead and hung the posters anyway. :/

Oh hey we just watched that ep! And I hated it! I don't know if I'd call it the worse episode, but it made me more uncomfortable than Asian F and Pot o Gold, which we watched right after. Like I've never had that bad a reaction to that ep before but wow

KURT: Look, I don’t just want to be know has Kurt Hummel: Homo.

BRITTANY: What’s wrong with that? Look - 99% of the kids at school are either freaks or closet freaks. The captain of the football squad - he gets the job, but he doesn’t represent the people. That’s why we need a unicorn.

My sister asked me if I agreed with that sentiment (being sure to say "If it wasn't Brittany saying it, how would you feel?" bc that makes a difference lol) and my response was "What did she say? I just tune her out now"

I mean obviously the sentiment isn't wrong. How often do we say that almost any one of the glee clubbers would be a better leader or representative than flop hudson. I just feel like Brittany is feeding into a larger problem that I have with season 3 in regards to Kurt

Which is just how they make so many jokes about Kurt being more flamboyant and girly than he actually is. Rachel saying she wants to see Kurt in a bridesmaid’s dress. Finn saying "What's with the sparkly jacket i thought you were kurt" but then he also has a comment in s2 about "sequined riding pants". but when has kurt ever wore sequins or sparkles outside of mercedes's dreamgirls fantasy number?? and having actual adults talk about how he isn't sexy enough (call the police) and laughing him out of an audition bc he's sooo fucking gay ha ha. i kinda talk about it here if you wanna read more unrelated angry rambling

Anyway all that to say. Kurt is not straight passing! He doesn’t need to be! He’s bold, theatrical, he loves fashion, he loves Broadway, and that’s great! But the pink sparkly unicorn stuff is something Brittany tried to force on him.

Kurt loves Judy Garland. He wanted to pay tribute to her with his campaign posters, hearkening back to her Blackglama fur coat ad. Something that references a beloved icon of the queer community, and fashion history at the same time. Two things that are very Kurt

But with Brittany, all nuance and clever reference is gone. She puts ruby slippers in the goody bag, just because they’re sparkly and flamboyant. They reference Judy in the most cliche and obvious way possible. Even if someone wants to claim it was her own version of a clever reference, she still has more pointless stuff in there as well. Unicorns, a teletubby, hair bands?? What does any of this have to do with Kurt or what he likes or represents?

And obviously there is nothing wrong with being the most flamboyant gay person you want to be. Pink and sparkles and rainbows obviously aren’t bad on their own. Not trying to sound like the shitty old “Gay people I respect vs gay people I don’t respect” meme. It’s just. Every gay person is more than their sexuality. No matter how flamboyant they are, how they dress, how many rainbows they wanna slap on everything. That’s still a whole person. Just bc all YOU see is a giant rainbow flag, that doesn’t mean that’s all they are

Brittany thinks being gay is nothing but pink unicorns and rainbow glitter. How is that any different from the shit Karofsky or Azimio or any other bully says about Kurt?? At the end of the day it’s just someone trying to cram him in a tiny little box that he is far too big, too bold, too nuanced to fit into

I mean god fucking forbid, but imagine if Brittany was “helping” Mercedes run for president like this. Telling her that being black should be her main personality trait, and filling a goody bag with items that are Brittany’s idea of what being “black” means to HER 💀💀 (I mean anybody with common sense could see it was insane, but her stans would react the same way and make Mercedes the bad guy when she reacted poorly bc what else is new lol)

And all her dumbass unicorn talk literally made Kurt start to dislike that part of himself! Like he’s always been bullied for it but he was still unapologetically himself. But Brittany’s campaign idea contributed to Kurt thinking he needed to change himself, and saying he was tired of being a unicorn. And in s3 he starts wearing more drab colors and all these sweaters and capes and he’s bundling himself up like he’s protecting himself and it makes me sad. And they bring in a completely new character that looks like Kurt just to call Kurt ugly and a girl and make fun of him. It drives me up a fucking wall! Season 3 is so awful to Kurt i literally can’t stand it. And it all starts with Brittany :) Thanks for that. Girl power!

And after dealing with the pain and humiliation of literally being laughed out of an audition BY MEMBERS OF THE FACULTY for being “too gay” Kurt is faced with the bright pink unicorn posters with his face on him that say “This is your box! This is all you will ever be!” and wow i can’t imagine why he’d be upset with Brittany for that!! Who’da thunk??? Brittany was a selfish idiot for hanging them up. Kurt had every right to be upset. And Santana was an idiot for invalidating Kurt’s feelings and just boosting Brittany up when she was obviously in the wrong. But that’s Br*ttana for you :)

I’m not even happy about Kurt “accepting” the posters and hanging them up himself and making that his campaign theme. That’s the version of Kurt that someone else made up in their head. That’s not him. He is so much more than Brittany’s tiny little brain could ever even comprehend lol. So yeah. I hate her :)

#glee #kurt hummel #season 3 #asks #answered #my thoughts #anti brittany pierce #lol brittany pierce #ghostpavarotti #long post #anti brittana #lol brittana

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imonthinice · 3 years

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 6/?

Word Count: 2.6-2.7k idk exact

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name (your best friend’s name)

MUSIC IS INCLUDED THIS TIME! Please enjoy my personal music playlist, or at least a snippet of it.

TO THE PERSON WHO REBLOGGED AND SAID THIS WAS CUTE (at least the first part) you straight up made me cry omfg

Warnings: Swearing, gets really fucking heated at the end (no sex, yet), no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Outfit Context:

Y/N:

Jason:

(Cause I finally found an outfit I liked on the boy, men’s fashion isn’t my strong suit,,, heh :) )

“Sorry, is my mouth hung open?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Very much so,” she mocked.

Jason closed his mouth and outstretched his hand for Y/N’s, cupping it with both hands and kissing the top of it.

“You just look so lovely, Y/N.”

“And you’re chivalrous, Jay. Now, should we get going?” she asked, putting her free hand on top of his two.

“Yes, let’s go,” he let one of his hands go of hers and lead her to the Porsche he brought with him, not intertwining his fingers with hers.

He opened the passenger’s side door and let Y/N get in, not letting go of her hand til the last moment he could hold it. He got in an turned on the radio,

It felt like a good night, for dancing in the moonlight,

In empty streets, well, everybody's got a reason why,

If we could only just get it right,

Maybe it will all work out like in the movies,

But I know Romeo must die before the ending,

With a final poison kiss delivered gently,

Because you don't get lucky twice, and that's the truth,

“Sing to me sweet just like my memory,

If New York City Still moves me then I’ve found something real,

I’ll be okay, I could go on for days,

But I just don’t have the courage that it takes to be real,

And even if it’s dark at least we’ll be together,

Slowly sinking in the Earth to lay forever,

You better grab a hold and hold on for your life,

Because you don’t get lucky twice,

No, you don’t get lucky twice,” She sung with the tune.

Without the Bitter the Sweet Isn’t as Sweet - Mayday Parade

“You, you have the voice of an angel,” he said.

“It’s not that hard to mimic works of art with my voice.”

“Did you ever take singing lessons?”

“I did when I was younger, so I could sing French lullabies to my cousins.”

He placed a hand on her thigh as he drove them through the countryside of Gotham to Metropolis, taking the long way on what seemed like purpose. So he could encapsulate the moment in his memory for as long as he knew her and what she was to him. She was an adventure waiting to happen, a love story not yet written to tell for ages, a rock ‘n’ roll song written to please the masses in hidden corners of the world.

And to her, he was a masterwork of intertwining memories of pain, sadness, luck and beauty. A mind of complexity she was just waiting to dive into and see how it functioned. A story behind the white tuff of hair he had, why he was jacked to the masses if he was a book nerd. A story of his favourite book and his favourite sibling, his favourite trope, his love, his pain, him.

The moments where she stuck her hand out the window and traced symbols into the Autumn air swirling past the two as they cruised down the empty back roads. When he laughed as she sang Reste by GIMS and Sting. He didn’t understand the lyrics, but she did, and she called it a love song. Well, he got the parts Sting sung, but French wasn’t a language he knew like she did.

“I guess being Bilingual helped you out massively with that one, huh?”

“It’s a talent I never knew I needed, apparently.”

“Well, you did know you needed.”

“That’s fair,” she laughed, “ I guess I did always need it as a skill.”

“Do your cousins speak English too?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit? It’s better English than my father.”

“Can he not speak English?”

“Well, he can, just not well. But my mother is also Bilingual in English and French so they never had to worry about my father being bad at English. My twin sister and I grew up knowing both languages,” she rambled, still playing with the wind, “I guess it’s a one-up I have on a lot of people, being able to just talk and talk in another language, travelling advantage,” she kept going, Jason intently listening to her as she went on and on, he liked the silence being filled by her voice, “You know? You might know, I don’t know how you were raised to a T,” she finished.

“Well, I can assure you I only know English so you have that theoretical one-up on me, too. But I choose to see that one-up as something you can teach me as time goes on and we progress,” he paused, “If you’re down to get serious eventually, that is,” he panicked.

“Well, maybe we’re at that point where we can say we’re casually seeing each other and exclusive, but not serious. Hopeful, but not pressuring ourselves into something that’s going to be put under a lot of pressure as we go on,” she said, still playing with the wind.

“We’ll see about that after dinner.”

“Where are we even going?”

“Fancy little restaurant with a balcony facing over the city,” he assured.

“Really out here living for the moments?”

“Well, most girls crack under the pressure of the paparazzi, you, however, flipped them off, and that’s being rewarded for showing that you can’t give a fuck about those dingy ass tabloids and how they treat you, by taking you out to nice places,” he said.

She laughed, “I’m glad I’m never going to live that one down, it was really fun to do.”

“I hope it continues as we go along, I would hate to see that behavior change when it brings a smile to everyone who’s ever been harassed by paparazzi” when they pulled over for a second, Jason quickly loosened his tie a tad, “Honestly, I want to ditch this fucking tie,”

“It’s not you,” she said, “It’s just not.”

“And you know me that well to take that guess?”

“I could see you struggling with it from a mile away, Jason. Maybe the fancy restaurant isn’t us,” she laughs, “But we aren’t going to not take that dinner date.”

“Oh we’re so going to take that date, but I’m thinking from here on out we do whatever the fuck we want, no fancy dates. Thoughts?” he asked.

“Done deal,” she said.

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

In the restaurant, the two of them were basically the worst people to be there, it was levels of fancy that neither of them actually wanted, they both wanted simplicity, but they both thought the presence of the other person was enough of a takeaway from the completely wrong choice of restaurant. They had Dick to blame for this one, and Jason made that clear to Dick in a joking text while Y/N snuck off to the bathroom to ‘fix her hair, she was actually checking her breath.

Dick, this fucking restaurant is a god damn bust, man. We aren’t you and Barbara, that’s what we’ve discovered today. lol.

Bummer! We really like that place.

I can see why it screams Dick and Barbs.

You kissed her yet though?

No.

Wuss! Cat got your tongue? Just do it, man.

And at the same time, Y/N was texting A/N about Jason and what to do,

Girl! Thank you so much for reminding me to bring mints, my god, food ruins your breath so much.

You really want the pretty boy kiss huh?

No, I’m eating the mints to not kiss him, YES I WANT THE KISS.

Ha! Honesty is key, just go for it.

She laughed as she packed her phone into her dress pockets (Yeah there’s fucking pockets :) ) and went to leave the restroom to meet up with Jason again. To which, Jason had already paid and tipped the waiter.

“I could have at least helped on the tip, Jay.”

“I tipped him 200%, but if you want to drop more cash, go for it.”

“You tipped that much?” she asked while slipping in a 50$ she had on her.

“Of course, food service workers deserve a lot more than what they get, especially when they have to deal with terrible customers,” he said as he went and grabbed her hand again, not intertwining fingers again, “And my best friend, Will, he complains about people who don’t tip and praises people who quote ‘over tip’ but I think that he deserves 200% each bill for the shit he puts up with.”

“Did you tip him when we went there?”

“No, I called in a ‘No questions asked’ favour. And before you say anything, he did the same to make me babysit his daughter-”

“Your best friend has a daughter?”

“Well, he’s older than me, but yeah, he’s a single dad because her mum kind of sucks, lovely little girl, I’m her godfather.”

“Does she call you Uncle Jason?”

“Well, Uncle Jay, it’s like one of the only works she knows how to say properly, and Dada,” he laughed, “Great little girl,” he said, nervously, “This doesn’t change anything, does it? ‘Cause if he, knock on fucking wood, lord forbids, dies that will be my daughter.”

“Well, he’s not dead and you’re not worrying that he’s going to die, so nothing has to change. God kids are god kids, noble that you took on your best friend’s kid if, lord forbid, anything happens to the man, really,” she assured.

He sighed and kissed the back of her hand, “Then that is just a gift on top of what I did,” he smiled and lead her back to the Porsche once again, opening the car door for her and she slightly turned on the radio, he let out a small laugh to himself, he got the pretty girl. He got into the Porsche again and began backing out.

“There’s something about ditching a really expensive dinner date that leaves you wanting more,” she said, absent-mindedly.

“What kind of more?” he asked.

“The kind you see in the movies, fully exposed and adventurous, you know?”

“Well, we could always sneak into the Wayne Manor Gardens and dance the night away under the stars like lovers do,” he half-joked, placing a hand on her thigh again and pretending like he did it subconsciously, but he was hyper-aware, especially when he caught her smile as she laughed.

“Wayne Manor? With your brothers, sisters, dad, and grandfather?” she paused, “If you’re serious, then no, not tonight. If you’re pulling my leg then, hell fucking no,” she joked.

“Maybe one day, then, huh?”

“One day, for sure. When it isn’t scary to accidentally run into your family on their property running around with you,” she said.

“Well, we can always go into the Wayne Enterprises Ballroom and dance the night away, no one should be in the office for a while and even then since there are no classes in the entire school tomorrow you can just hide out in my office if we stay too long,” he paused to make sure she was still listening, “Security can’t question me because I’m Bruce Wayne’s son, and security is tight as fuck so paparazzi can’t get to us,” he paused to put a little bit of pressure on her thigh, “What do you say? Can I have this dance, Milady?” he half-joked.

“You want to know something Jason?

“Always, Y/N.”

“I took dance lessons when I was younger, can you Waltz?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am, I can.”

“Then I’m in, let’s go.”

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

She loved the feeling of being back in her new hometown, Gotham. So when they pulled into the massive black building, she felt even more welcomed, security at the gates did ask ‘Who’s the girl?’ but Jason just explained it very easily,

“You know that date of mine that flipped off the press and you lot loved it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the man responded.

“You can call me Jason, you know that. But this is that girl.”

And they were let through the parking gates and into the underground parking system, they had to travel surprisingly far to Jason’s reserved spot in the lot, but the did get there before it hit AM. Once out of the car, Jason grabbed her hand and they ran into the building’s employees doors. It was a tight squeeze, but the feeling of Jason pressed so close to her sent chills down her spine. They went through many halls and reached the Ballroom, and entering it was like a dream for her.

Walls lined with intricate shapes and colours, but the colours never brought away from the stage at the far end from the door, the curtains seemed to redden with each step towards them, the 3, maybe 4 chandeliers hung above her like crystals in the ocean, it was amazing and beautiful. Checkered floorboards to give it a little bit of dimension, but it was the same colour as the main wall so your brain and eyes wouldn’t hurt after looking at it. It was stunningly beautiful and that’s what drew her in.

When he grabbed her hand and put on Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine, pulling her close to his chest and slowly Waltzing her around the room, spinning her when it felt right for him to do. Neither of them worried about the sloppiness or how it looked to the naked eye because it was for them. no one got satisfaction like they did at that moment. And grabbing her for one last dip was Jason’s goal when the ending of the song hit, although out of breath and his face stuffed in her chest as they both panted, he did pull her up so they were face-to-face on the dancefloor that they wiped clean.

“Did I tell you that you look stunning, Y/N?”

“I think you mentioned it a few times, Jay,” she said, staring directly into his eyes.

“Well, I mean it.”

“And I’m going to mean this,” she paused, taking her hand and placing it on his cheek, “ The way your eyes are a green-blue tint makes me lost in them, they’re like a sea of this mind I find myself liking more and more every day,” she paused to put her other hand on his other cheek, “And the way your nose and cheek freckles frame them is amazing.”

And he went for it. Somehow when he pressed his lips into hers, it felt like they were meant to match, and they both opened their mouths to play the coveted game of tongue-war, but they didn’t play by the rules, it was soft and sweet but full of passion and love, not lust. His hands would travel to her waist and lightly grip her, while her hands would travel to his neck and drape around the back of it.

They pulled away at the same moment to take in air, something they had clearly been missing as they were connected, they both let out a small chuckle before she put her hands in his hair and went in for round 2.

This time it was hungrier, and they both played with the shapes of the other so much more as time went on, he would grab her ass and she would pull on his hair slightly before he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and moved one of her hands to the nape of his neck, this time, they would break for seconds only to start moving towards his office, which, conveniently, had a couch.

To say he threw her on that couch would be an understatement, he fucking thrust her on that couch and climbed on top of her, it was like 3 days of passion and lust combined themselves in a matter of minutes from their first kiss to them meeting on the couch. They both knew deep down that it couldn’t escalate further than this, especially at 1 in the morning, but time moves fast when you’re connecting in this way.

They finally broke after their passionate exchange and he fell to her side and began to spoon her, “Worth it,” he whispered.

“Worth what?” she asked.

“It was worth it to take a chance and defy my anxieties to ask you on that first date.”

“I don’t like a reality where you didn’t ask me on that date.”

“Neither do I, and I’m positive of that.”

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

Text

A Family of Our Own: Chapter 3

Chapter 2

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The dining room was loud and boisterous as it always was before supper. Jenny bustled in with dish after dish, Claire and Maggie trailing behind with more. Mary MacNab was feeding wee Ian in the nursery to keep the meal somewhat formal given that they had a guest. The men had just finished washing up from the day, and Jamie was upstairs fetching John from his room. After the tour of the grounds, Jamie got back to work, and John got himself settled in his room.

As Claire sat herself down, Jamie returned, John right behind him. All conversation immediately ceased. Even Kitty, little devil though she was, had the sense to be scared. Claire watched as John surveyed the six sets of wide, little eyes gaping at him, and the narrowed, piercing gaze of Jenny. Jamie either didn’t notice or chose to ignore the awkward silence, and he pulled out a chair, indicating John to sit right beside him. Claire chided herself for the ridiculous pang of jealousy that struck her sternum. Brianna always sat between her and Jamie. But there was nothing between him and John.

“This looks splendid,” John said lightly, smiling warmly at Jenny. “My compliments to the Mistress of the house.”

“Mhm.” Jenny nodded curtly, reaching to fill Michael and Janet’s plates without even looking up at John.

Claire’s face flamed with secondhand embarrassment, and she noticed that John was no less affected.

“Lord John is very good at chess, I hear,” Claire said rather stupidly. “Quite a formidable opponent for you, Ian.”

Ian had the decency to look up from his food and smile and nod genially, but he said nothing.

“And what does that make me?” Jamie said, joking.

“You don’t recall all the times you lost?” John side-eyed him, smirking, and Jamie scoffed, gesturing flippantly with his fork.

“Ye played chess in prison, then?” Jenny cut in sharply, finally looking directly at John with no mercy in her cold eyes.

“Aye,” Jamie did not seem at all perturbed, even though Claire suddenly had little to no appetite. “I was a conduit of sorts, for John to learn and understand the prisoners’ needs. I spoke for them over meals and games of chess.”

Claire did not miss how Jenny visibly cringed at Jamie referring to John so informally.

“He was an excellent advocate,” John cut in. “He cares very much about his people. He was born to be a leader.”

“Shame he canna be one,” Jenny snapped, putting more potatoes on Kitty’s plate. “Seeing as he canna own his own family land.”

John swallowed thickly. “That…yes, that is quite a shame. If there was something to be done about it—”

“Ye’ve done enough, man,” Ian said, and despite his discomfort, Claire could tell he meant it. “And we thank ye.”

“God forbid he lose his position serving the Crown,” Jenny said with no hidden ire. Maggie looked like she was about to burst into tears out of sheer discomfort, her food completely untouched. Young Jamie’s ears and nose were bright red with anger, apparently old enough now to understand. Kitty and Brianna kept looking at each other and then back at the adults.

“Janet,” Jamie snapped. “Enough.”

“Forgive me,” she said without any hint of an actual apology in her tone. “Shall we continue discussing yer fine meals together in prison?”

“Jenny…” Claire tried, but her quiet attempt at calm was completely talked over.

“It looked just like this, I suppose. You sitting there all high and mighty in yer fine red coat.”

“Janet—”

“And you,” she interrupted Jamie, pointing fiercely at him, “sitting there wi’ him like his coat isna stained wi’ the blood of yer people!”

“Ma, please stop…” Maggie blubbered helplessly.

“Like ye’re equals!” Jenny went on. “Like right now. Sitting there in yer redcoat like ye own the lot of us.”

“Madame, I assure you…”

“Dinna even have the decency to wear something else in the presence of these children who’ve seen nothing but terror from the likes of it!”

“I…I don’t have…”

“Mummy…” Brianna tugged on Claire’s sleeve, and before she could open her mouth to comfort her, Jenny stood.

“Children, out. Take yer plates to the nursery. All of ye. Now.”

She hastily dumped more meat and potatoes on all of their plates as they shuffled out, dumbstruck with fear, Maggie’s sniffling echoing down the halls until their footsteps disappeared up the stairs.

Jamie stood the second the children were out of earshot, and Claire shot to her feet to contain his rage.

“Ye’re out of line, sister,” Jamie said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, I am?” she roared, puffing her chest out with her hands on her hips. “Ye must be bloody mad! Bringing him in to dine like he’s one of us! With my children!”

“He’s a friend!”

“But not one of us!” she spat, her face reddening. “And I canna believe ye…ye dined wi’ him in chains…” Her eyes watered.

“I was never chained, Jenny.”

“That’s no’ the point!” She angrily swiped at her tears. “Ye let him…use ye…”

Claire’s chest tightened.

“And he’s got ye still like a dog on a lead! It’s plain as the nose on my face watching ye talk wi’ him!”

“What the devil are ye implying?” Jamie’s voice lowered dangerously.

“I may no’ have been farther than Broch Mordha in all my life, but I’m no’ daft.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Ye bloody told us he’s fond of ye. I bloody ken what that means.”

“Jenny, come on now…” Ian heaved himself to his feet and touched her shoulder.

Claire glanced down at John, and he looked like he was contemplating drowning himself in his soup. Jamie was vibrating beside her, and she put a gentle, calming hand on his forearm.

“I just…” Jenny gasped in a hiccup of tears, her hand flying to her chest. “I didna ken that ye…that you…” She swallowed thickly, gathering her resolve. “Ye didna say you were fond of him.”

In the time it took Claire to blink, something shattered, food splattered all over, and Jamie was leaning across the table, his nose inches away from Jenny’s.

“I’m. Not. Fond. Of anything.”

Claire took a trembling breath, watching Jamie growl in Jenny’s face, Jenny still as stone, not backing down. She took her eye off them for a split second, long enough to see two tears trail down John’s cheeks.

“Dinna lie to me, brother,” Jenny said calmly. “I dinna ken what he did to ye, and I dinna want to know. I just want this madness to stop.”

Jamie heaved, his entire body convulsing with each breath. Claire dare not take a step or move an inch.

“Bringing a redcoat into my home is bad enough,” she went on. “But bringing in a redcoat that’s…someone like him…in front of the children…” Her voice broke again. “How could ye do it, brother…? How could ye let a sodomite—”

A sharp crack filled the air, and Claire felt all the air rush out of her. Jenny recoiled with a stifled cry, holding her cheek. A terrible, painful silence followed, and Jamie straightened up, as if realizing what he’d done. Claire looked at Ian, and she wanted to weep. She had never seen him filled with such anger.

“I’m no’ an impulsive man, Jamie,” Ian said unevenly. “But if ye dinna quit my sight this instant, I’ll pound yer bloody face in fer what ye’ve just done.”

Without a word, Jamie was gone, and the blood rushing in Claire’s ears was too loud for her to hear where he’d gone to. A chair scraped to her left, then a flash of red zipped by; John disappeared.

Not knowing what else to do, Claire sprang into medical action, striding around the table to examine Jenny’s face.

“I’m fine,” she pushed Claire’s hands away. “Nothing more than a bit of stinging. He’d never hit me hard enough to leave a mark.”

“Well he still shouldn't have done that,” Claire said, her voice more thick with emotion than she’d realized it would be. “You’re not children. He’s a grown man with the strength of three grown men. He should not be laying hands on anybody half his size.”

“No,” Ian growled. “He shouldna.”

“D’ye think me mad, sister?” Jenny said desperately, grasping Claire by the shoulders. “Or d’ye see it? Ye must ken what I mean! Ye’re his wife! Has he told ye?”

Claire gently pried Jenny’s fingers off her and laced them with hers. “I don’t think you’re mad. But I do think there’s something you’re missing. And I...I don’t think you should have spoken to Jamie that way. Nor should you have spoken about John like that right in front of him.”

Jenny blinked dumbly. “D’ye no’—”

“Yes, I do,” Claire said sharply. “Jamie told me that John is in love with him.”

“In love?”

“Yes.”

“That’s impossible!”

“No, it isn’t.” Claire’s face heated with anger. “And John never hurt Jamie. Never.”

“But what if it didna...what if it wasna...unpleasant for him? That’s what I’m trying to tell ye!”

“No,” Claire said quickly, too quickly. “Jamie wouldn’t...he said he didn’t. John told me they didn’t. He wouldn’t lie to me.”

“D’ye think they’d confess to such a sin?”

“It’s not a sin.”

“I ken yer time is different sister, but—”

“This has nothing to do with time,” Claire said resolutely. “John is a human being and he can’t help the way he feels. And you have no right to make him feel horrid for who he is.”

Jenny let go of Claire’s hands and crossed her arms, embarrassed. “I don’t...I dinna understand.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Claire said gently, crossing her own arms. “I admit I don’t really understand it either. But it’s none of my business.”

“It is yer business if he’s rogering yer husband.”

Claire recoiled as if she was hit in the face, blinking in shock.

“If you don’t take that back this instant, I’ll slap you myself.”

Jenny flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, sister. I’m sorry.”

Claire sighed impatiently. “I’ll go talk to Jamie. After you’ve both cooled down, you will apologize. For insulting his friend, and him.”

“But—”

“And if Jamie has been unfaithful,” Claire gathered her skirts and walked away, stopping in the doorway, “I will deal with him in my own way.”

——

After several minutes of searching, Claire found Jamie in the stables, his forehead pressed to the snout of his horse as he whispered in Gaelic, stroking his muzzle. He seemed to have calmed considerably, for which Claire had the horses to thank. They always had a soothing effect on him, even as far back as when she’d first met him.

“Has Jenny convinced ye I’m a filthy pervert, then?”

Claire recoiled a bit, but pressed on, taking a few more steps into the stable. “No.”

“I’m sorry if I frightened ye,” Jamie said sadly. “But I’m no’ sorry I hit her.”

“I don’t blame you,” Claire admitted. “She was behaving abhorrently.”

“I hear what ye’re no’ saying, Sassenach,” Jamie said, still not looking at her. “Ye condemn Jenny, but ye still want to ask me if she’s right.”

Claire straightened her spine, embarrassed she’d been found out so easily.

“Well, wouldn’t you?” Claire tried, taking another step forward. “If a man showed up on our threshold and started acting so...familiar with me, and went on about all the evenings we spent together...wouldn’t you wonder?”

“Aye. I would.” He finally released the horse and turned around, flicking a piece of hay away impatiently. “But ye thought I was dead. I’d no’ shame ye for remarrying, or trying to. I kent ye lived and maybe waited for me. Why would I betray ye? Why would ye think it? And wi’...wi’ a bloody s—”

“Don’t say it.” Claire put a hand up. “I’ve heard that word quite enough for one lifetime, now.”

“Is that no’ what he is?”

“He’s a man, first and foremost. And your friend, secondly.”

“Aye. But I dinna have to agree wi’ how he lives his life.”

“But you don’t have to treat him so awfully for it, either,” Claire said firmly. “He can’t help how he feels about you. I admit I didn’t realize how...strongly he felt until he showed up today. I was...frightened by it, truthfully.”

“What frightened ye, Sassenach?”

“I...I don’t know…” Claire shook her head. “When I saw that it went beyond...lust...I thought...I was afraid that…”

“I dinna love him,” Jamie growled, his body tightening.

“I didn’t say you did,” Claire said, her voice quiet with awed horror. “You said that.”

He stepped back, running an impatient hand through his hair. “I don’t.”

Claire crossed her arms over her chest. “John told me nothing...happened.”

“It didn’t.”

Claire almost jumped at his vehemence.

“And if anything would ha’ happened, it woulda been my choice. My own free will. As ye well know.”

Claire blinked a few times, unable to reconcile with the unfamiliar rage roiling in her gut. “You’d...let him do that…hurt you...but you don’t love him.”

“He wouldna hurt me!” Jamie said furiously. “Why are ye so determined to make him a monster?”

“Why are you so determined to defend him?” Claire shot right back. “You say it as if you’d...want him to!”

“Want him to what, Claire?” Jamie took a dangerous step forward, hovering over him.

“You know bloody well what!”

Jamie roughly seized her upper arm, yanking her close. “Say it, Claire. I want ye to look me in the eye and tell me what it is ye think I want.”

“You want to know what I think?”

“Aye! I do!” He shook her a bit.

“I want to know if you actually let him fuck you to buy your freedom! And if you fucking wanted him to! And enjoyed it!”

He released her suddenly with a great shove, and with a mighty roar, he punched his fist into the door of an empty stall behind him, spooking all of the horses. Claire gasped, stumbling back and falling onto her rear. She knew to her deepest core that he could have hit her with that force. He threw her away to protect her from the rage she’d stirred in him.

But, God help her, she still wasn’t done.

“I don’t bloody care who it is! I care if it happened or not!” She stayed on the ground, crying up to him like a pathetic child. “And I care that you might not think it...counts because he’s a man! And God, Jamie! It does!”

“Of course it counts!” he shouted. “It would! If it’d happened! Why, why would I lie to you?” “Because you’re ashamed! I can see it all over your face!” She pointed accusingly, openly weeping at him. “If it were a woman you’d be on your knees begging my forgiveness, but because it’s a man, you’re ashamed!”

That gave him pause, and Claire thought she’d gotten through to him, thought he was about to make a confession. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“Aye. I am ashamed.”

Claire let out a tiny sob, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. It was her doing, wrenching it out of him like this; it was what she’d wanted. And yet she wished she could undo it all, live in blissful ignorance forever. She couldn’t bear to hear him say it, and yet she had to.

“I’m ashamed because I’m afraid.”

This gave her pause. She blinked, picking her head up off her knees. “Afraid…?”

“I’m afraid of what would have happened if he’d agreed to it.”

And all at once, Claire wanted to die with shame, because she knew with all her heart that he was telling the truth.

“I’m afraid I would have...enjoyed it. As ye said.” He took a stuttering breath, more tears littering his cheeks. “There was a...a thrill that ran through me when I asked him. And it scared me senseless. And I ken. I ken that...that Randall put that in me. I ken.”

“Jamie…” Claire practically squeaked. She unfurled from herself and got on her knees. “Jamie...come here. Come here, love…”

He obeyed, dropping to his knees like dead weight, and Claire gathered him in her arms until his head was in her lap, hands fisting her skirts.

“That man put nothing in you. Nothing. He owns no part of you and you own no part of him.”

He shook his head, and she stroked his hair, hushing him.

“If you...if you’d enjoy being with a man...a man who cares about you...loves you, even...it’s not the same thing. It’s not.”

She listened to his quiet sniffling and bit down her own tears, working to steady her voice.

“That’s not...how that works,” she struggled to find the words. “I don’t know much about John, but he’s not...the way he is because somebody hurt him. People don’t just...become that way. He was born that way. And if...if you…”

“No. I’m no’ like him.”

“Not like John? Or not like Randall?”

��John is a good man.”

“I know,” she soothed. “I know.”

“I ken he’s a good man...and yet I...I canna…” he took a deep breath. “Ye remember I told ye I beat a man senseless fer implying John and I were...buggering.”

“I remember.”

“It wasna to defend John’s honor. No’ really. And he knew it. I think he knows...something. I never told him, and I never will. But he could tell.”

“So why did you beat him then?” Claire knew the answer, but she needed to hear Jamie say it.

“Because I couldna stand anyone thinking I was that way. It made be blind wi’ rage.”

Claire nodded, stroking his cheek with her knuckles. “I know.”

“I...my mind knows that John is good...but my body...recoils to think of what he is.”

“To...think of what you might be?”

It was risky. He could kill her in one fell swoop.

Instead, he tightened his grip around her waist and buried his face further into her.

“I don’t care, Jamie. I don’t. I don’t know how to help you accept that part of yourself, but just know that it makes no difference to me.”

Claire swallowed. “I’m sorry I was so horrid. I said exactly what I knew would get you the most upset. And I know why it gets you upset. And it was so, terribly wrong of me.”

She felt a fervent kiss to her abdomen, and she clung to his hair.

“I think I...as much as I respect and admire him...I just as equally resent him. And it’s awful because you were in prison, for Christ’s sake...but I…” Her voice caught in her throat. “I know I’ve said it enough times, but you were dead. I was so lost without you. We all were. We were harassed and starved and beaten, and we lost and feared…” She shook her head. “And for those eight years, he had you. You were at his beck and call to dine with and...play chess...all the while I thought you were rotting on Culloden Moor.”

Jamie sat up, looking into her eyes with enough remorse to crumble the strongest resolve.

“I’m your wife. I’m your fucking wife,” she said, teeth clenched. “I was your wife those entire eight years that he had you pretend I didn’t exist; you didn’t even know your daughter existed. I cried into my fucking potatoes every night for years beacuse you weren’t at supper and all he had to do was look up and see you right there. And the thought of it makes me…” She must have been trembling, because he put steadying hands on her shoulders. “I can’t bear to think of it.”

Jamie tenderly kissed her forehead.

“And to think of him having just that one bit more of you...the only thing that I’d have to claim over him…” She shrugged uselessly, feeling like a petulant toddler fighting for rights to a toy. “To think of you giving yourself to him the way you give yourself to me while I couldn’t even bring myself to touch myself for eight years…”

“But I didn’t, Claire,” he said vehemently. “I didn’t.”

She nodded, pursing her lips. “I know,” she croaked. “I know.”

He captured her lips gently, almost hesitantly, and she reciprocated in kind, fingers trembling on his cheeks.

“D’ye doubt that I love you?”

“No,” Claire answered without hesitation. “Not for a single second.”

Jamie nodded, sighing in relief. “I was afraid...once ye knew the darkest parts of me...ye’d think I couldna…”

Claire shook her head, kissing him lightly again. “It doesn’t make you dark. Or incapable of love.”

“Or incapable of loving that ye’re a woman…?”

Claire shook her head again. “You tell me, Jamie. Do you still love these…?” She took his hands and guided them to her breasts, delighting in the stutter of his breath. He nodded reverently. She guided his hands under her skirts. “How about this?”

He groaned, and a chill ran down her spine.

“Aye, lass. God, I do…”

She straddled him, kissing him more deeply, grinding down into his hand. “Then nothing else matters.”

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slytherinsnekxvii · 3 years

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let's talk about severus snape. he's one of the most controversial characters the internet has to offer, with several blogs, channels and pages dedicated specifically to hating him, despite him having one of the most—if not the most—intriguing character arcs the series has to offer. so, as a result of me coming across far too many of said blogs, channels or pages, here's an extremely detailed explanation of why i like him and think he's easily one of my favourite characters :)

1. he's not that bad of a teacher.

just so you know, i'm a teenage girl fresh out of high school. so, my experience with teachers? still keeps me up at night :)

my family is pretty strict about religion. you can guess what that means. anything that was magic-adjacent, especially something that, god forbid, had an entire school dedicated to witchcraft and wizardry was a hard no if i wanted to have any sort of freedom over the media i paid attention to, and any opportunity to go about my life without being monitored to make sure i wasn't suddenly possessed or something. thanks to this, i ended up secretly reading the philosopher's stone in my last year of primary school. i would've been 11 at the time, just about to turn 12, so a little bit older than harry and co. going on what i'd heard from those who had already read the series, i went in expecting to absolutely despise this man. i went in expecting to read a demon. i finished the book and came out thinking... that really wasn't that bad.

my mom found out, so i didn't get to read the rest of the series until i ended up on the executive committee for my school's book club and my friends were appalled that i'd only read the first book. at this point, i'm still expecting him to get worse and... he just doesn't. when i was in primary school, i had multiple teachers break wooden meter-long rulers across my classmates' backs. the first time it happened, i was in infant year 2 (about 6/7 years old). i had teachers who would insult us, based on anything from hygiene to behaviour to intelligence if you looked at them wrong. my sister (who was three years ahead of me) had a teacher who kept her in hours after school was over because the teacher had a written a note in her workbook upside down, and when my sister corrected her, the teacher made her rewrite it, turning the book each time the note was written so it would never be done the correct way.

in secondary school, i had teachers who would actively humiliate us in front of the class if we didn't do as well as they wanted. i had teachers who would throw markers and whiteboard erasers at us if we did something they didn't like during class. i had a teacher who looked for a friend of mine who was petrified of attention and then mercilessly picked on her until she went to the bathrooms to cry. these are the kinds of teachers that i was used to. so, when i read harry potter and read snape, who would have probably been one of the nicer teachers i met in my lifetime, i thought to myself, he's really not that bad. he's just... strict.

antis claim that he traumatised every kid that ever went through his class, that he straight up abused them and... no. he didn't. all of them are comfortable talking back, they talk during his class, no one trembles when he walks past, except for neville, who usually bore the brunt of snape's anger because he was consistently messing up in a potentially lethal class.

after school, i hated the thought of formal education, so now i'm working until i feel ready to do university. coincidentally, one of my jobs is teaching maths and english to kids writing the end of primary and secondary school exams. given the sheer amount of annoyance i feel sometimes, i actually respect him for not being more harsh with them, especially when they're all running off into danger or exploding cauldrons.

he really isn't that bad of a teacher, and we know this, since his classes' owl results are said to be consistently good.

plus, he was written in the 90's when all this was okay behaviour for teachers. hell, compared to some of the teachers in text, given that he goes out of his way to make sure the students are always protected, he's a lot better than most people give him credit for.

2. i relate to him.

come on, the man grew up to be a dramatic, queer-coded, petty bitch who wears all black all the time and likely has at least one mental disorder. i'm a petty, emo bisexual with (actually diagnosed, don't worry) depression and anxiety and I'm in a theatre group. what did you really expect from me?

on a serious note, both of the schools i went to were considered "prestigious". i got into my primary school because of a teacher's recommendation (she was a family friend). the second school i got into was because i scored ridiculously high on the placement test that would determine which school i went to. in primary school, i was the poor, really awkward, really smart kid who got left out of everything, and my best friend was the only kid who was worse off than me.

in secondary school, i was just as smart as everyone else... but i was still poorer, and still more awkward and still got left out of everything.

i got that isolated feeling, that feeling of not being good enough, that feeling where life always seems to have it out for you and that's even though i still got dealt a better hand than snape ever did. so, i get it. i'm never ever going to have it as bad as he did, but i acknowledge what he went through and i sympathise, because i have a chance, but it only ever got worse for him.

3. i genuinely enjoy his character.

this dude went through absolute hell for basically his entire life. the best years he had were probably when he was neck-deep in the group of people who hated witches and wizards like him, but somehow managed to treat him better than the good guys.

all of that, and he still manages to be one of the most entertaining motherfuckers in the whole series, with one of the most interesting character arcs ever. it's the witty lines, the sheer dynamic of his character, the change from the twitchy, hypervigilant kid from the slums to the adult that managed to spy on the Dark Lord himself and save the wizarding world in the process, while still being a hot mess of a person. it's the managing to get shit done while everybody hated him and everything was going to hell. it's the everything, and i haven't even talked about how badass he is.

come on, potions prodigy turned master, exemplary duellist (cough, cough, winning 4-on-1 vs McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn, and leaving a scratch on nobody, while managing to not take a single hit himself, cough, cough), spellcrafter, spy and one of the only wizards to ever figure out unaided flight. dark arts master, proficient at healing (dumbledore would've been dead a lot sooner, if it weren't for him, most likely). he's one of the most powerful wizards of his time. i've said that any universe where he's actually a bad guy—or just legitimately loyal to the death eaters—is a universe where voldemort wins and this is why. if he was motivated by literally anything other than lily, the wizarding world was more than likely fucked.

the point is, i just think he's neat.

4. spite.

every time i appreciate snape, a snater feels like someone is walking over their grave. every time i appreciate snape, a snater turns blue out of sheer rage. every time i appreciate snape, a snater loses their mind looking for their non-existent reading comprehension.

the spite in my veins is tempered only by the broth of instant ramen and ungodly amounts of sugar, and i'm going to use them all in my mission to cause antis pain when they refuse to acknowledge their lack of critical thinking and analysis skills.

so, yeah. why do i actually like snape?

tl;dr: he's not that bad. for a teacher written in the 90's and compared to teachers i've had within the decade, the guy's just strict. sure, he's a dick (who i personally think is hilarious), but he always makes sure the students are safe and he didn't leave any lasting effect on any of the students. he's really not that bad of a teacher. and hell, he's not even that bad of a person. i fully admit that he was an asshole and i entirely believe he was prone to self-destructive behaviour, but he still tried to atone for his mistakes and he did, is the thing, even though the odds were stacked more or less completely against him. i like him because he entertains me, and because i relate to him, as a teen who went through some shit and probably would have joined up with some bad people if it weren't for my friends and family, and as a teacher who really can't stand my students sometimes. i also like him because it irritates people who don't like him :)

also, istg if any of you respond to this with "bUt hE was ObseSsED with LiLY and just WAnTEd to FUCK hEr," i'm crawling into your bedroom window with the most unrealistic, mangled interpretations of your favourite characters and making sure they haunt you in your dreams. meet me in the fuckin' pit, babe. reread the series, actually think about it and come with receipts that aren't Voldemort, because i don't think you want to have the same opinion as the character who canonically doesn't understand love, now, do you, sweetheart? when you do that, then, and only then, will i consider entertaining your bullshit :)

that's about it from me, thanks for reading!

#severus snape #pro snape #why do people like snape?#i can't speak for anybody else but here's me #i probably left something out since i haven't written a good essay since my literature exam #but it's fine #let me like my chaotic bastard son in peace please #snape #snapedom

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phantasticworks · 3 years

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If You Don't Love Me, Pretend - Epilogue

Well. So here we are. it's been a long time (about three years actually) since I started writing this fic and it's grown significantly out of my control since then :') if you've been along since the start, or if you've just found this fic today, thank you for coming along this journey with me. It's been incredible and I'm forever grateful for all the support this fic has gotten <3 thank you so much for reading. keep your eyes peeled for bonus content!

read on ao3

Words: 3.9k

Summary: Three years later

Warnings for this chapter: none

It’s nearly six in the evening and there’s a chiming noise coming from the laptop in the lounge. Dan curses under his breath as he makes his way from the kitchen, hoping and praying the volume isn’t loud enough to wake a certain someone.

He gets there just as the Skype call is about to end, and is quick to press the “accept” button as he scoops the laptop up, retreating back to the kitchen with it. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hey,” Phil says from the screen, a little smile on his face. “I thought you forgot about me.”

Dan rolls his eyes, setting the laptop on the island countertop and settling on a barstool. “Right. God forbid I’m two seconds late to our Skype call.”

Phil does an adorable pout. “I’ve been gone a week, I miss your face. Is that a crime?”

Dan smirks. “Yep. I’m gonna call the police, have them arrest you on the spot.”

“Hm.” Phil considers it for a moment. “I don’t think I like handcuffs enough for that.” He’s got this smug little look on his face, like he knows a secret.

Annoyingly, Dan blushes at that. “Shut up. You don’t get to flirt when you’re, like, on the other side of the freaking planet.”

Phil gives him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, hon. I’ll be back home in a couple days, though.”

Dan nods, propping an elbow up and resting his chin in his hand. “I know. I just miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Phil replies easily. Dan loves that even now, after all this time, they’re still this disgustingly obsessed with each other.

“How’s work been?” Dan asks, changing the subject before he gets sad. He hates it when he gets sad during their Skype calls, especially when he starts crying.

Phil sighs, shrugging. “It’s been alright. I’m exhausted, though. You’d think I’d stop offering to go to these sorts of things for the BBC, but apparently I can’t help myself.”

Dan smiles at him. “You’re a dedicated worker. It’s a good thing.”

“Not when it takes me away from you guys for weeks at a time,” Phil mumbles petulantly. Dan has to agree there. “Speaking of, where are our kids?”

Nearly three years since the adoption was finalized and Dan still adores the sound of that. “The twins are upstairs, I think doing homework. I was starting dinner when you called.”

“Oh, sorry,” Phil says, smiling sheepishly.

Dan waves him off. “It’s fine. I’m doing stir-fry tonight, it won’t take long anyway.”

Phil nods at this, then asks, “Levi out with Charlotte?”

Dan smiles and nods. “Yeah. They went to see a movie, I think.”

“Did you make sure he had enough money?” Phil asks. He’s always got this perpetual fear that their son will be stranded somewhere with no money and no way home, so Dan’s gotten good at reassuring him.

“Yes,” he says patiently. “I let him borrow the car, and I told him that there’s some in the console if they need it.”

Phil nods, but his face is stricken with another worried look. Dan knows what’s coming before he says it. “Did they wear seatbelts? Are you sure he’s ready to drive on his own? I mean-“

“Babe,” Dan interrupts. “He’s nearly eighteen. He’s passed all his tests, gotten his license, and he’s practiced a lot. He’s earned a little bit of trust, yeah?”

He can tell Phil is still a little nervous and weary, but he nods in agreement. “Okay,” he says with a breath. “I just worry about him.”

Dan looks down, hiding his smile. His husband could be such an anxious mess when his kids were involved. “I know. But he’s fine. They’re fine. Charlotte’s aunt said she could stay the night, so they’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

“Oh, make sure you make her a separate serving of the stir-fry. She’s still doing the vegetarian thing, and I don’t want her to go hungry,” Phil says.

Dan’s heart clenches. He’s so full of love and that ooey-gooey affection that hasn’t dulled at all over the years.

“Sure,” he agrees with a smile.

“How’s-“ Phil begins to speak, but before he can, a piercing cry comes from the lounge. Dan jumps, and Phil laughs. “Speak of the devil,” he grins.

Dan makes a protesting noise. “Don’t you dare call our daughter a devil,” he chastises playfully.

Phil rolls his eyes. “Go get her, I’ll wait.”

Dan nods and quickly makes his way to the lounge, straight over to where the crying noise is coming from the bassinet in the corner. “Oh, dear,” Dan tuts in a high-pitch voice. Phil makes fun of him when he does that, calling him Winnie the Pooh every time. Dan leans down, smiling at the little bundle resting there, the crying softening to a sniffle when Dan scoops the baby up.

“Shh,” he whispers. “There we go. Daddy’s here, love.” He strokes her little fingers, grinning wetly when she clutches onto his pinky. “Aww, what a sweet thing. Do you wanna see your other Dad? Yes! Let’s go see Dada.”

He’s careful as he makes his way back to the kitchen, and he glances up at the laptop, smiling when he sees the way Phil is beaming at him through the screen. “Hello there,” he coos softly. “Oh, sweet angel. How’s she been today?” His tone shifts when he speaks to Dan, and Dan glances up at him again, having gotten lost in staring at her cute little face.

“She’s been a lot better today. I think Kath was right about the colic,” Dan says, absently stroking her little hand as he rocks her gently.

Phil nods. “So it was probably just gas?” He asks.

“I think so. I gave her a warm bath and did the bicycle thing with her legs earlier and she seems to be loads better now,” Dan replies.

“Good,” Phil says with a smile. “I read somewhere that if they’re still having trouble you can have them lay on their tummies and that might help.”

Dan nods. “I’ll try that if she gets fussy again. But the crying finally stopped, thank god.” He’s not religious but he’s not kidding in his thanks. The crying was literally about to drive him insane.

“I know, babe. I’m sorry I haven’t been there this week,” Phil says, his eyes dropping with something like shame.

Dan wishes he could kiss him right now. “It’s fine, Phil. We’ve been fine.”

“Still...” Phil shrugs. “I wish I would’ve been there.”

Dan smiles. “I know. But next time you will be, yeah? At least the BBC isn’t sending you out all the time these days.”

Phil nods. “Thank god. And thank god that Bryony lets you work from home.”

“I know, right?” Dan grins. He’s still a little over the moon about his career shift, even though he does find himself struggling to do both jobs part-time. But that’s something he won’t let himself worry about now.

The baby gurgles in his arms, and Dan coos at her. “What? Is our baby girl hungry? Hm? Time for din-din?”

“I guess I should probably let you go,” Phil says, sounding sad.

Dan glances up at him, frowning at the thought. He really does miss him a lot. “You don’t have to. Do you want to talk to the kids before you go?”

Phil smiles and nods. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Let me go grab them. Hang on,” Dan gently bounces the baby as he goes to the end of the stairs, covering her little ears gently before calling out, “Mia! Jai! Come here for a second!”

There’s some shouts of agreement and then Dan listens to the stampede of little feet as they race down the stairs. Thank god they’d finally moved into a house that they actually own, with neighbors far enough away that they can’t complain about the sounds that fill a house full of children.

Still, old habits die hard, and Dan gives them a look when they reach the bottom. “What did we say about running?” He asks.

The nine-year-olds at least have the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry,” Jaiden says, stepping closer and stroking his baby sister’s cheek with a gentle finger. “Hi, Nat-Nat,” he coos.

Dan smiles at that. “Dad’s on Skype, he wants to talk to you guys,” Dan says, and the words are barely out of his mouth when the twins are barreling off towards the kitchen. He rolls his eyes as he follows after them, mumbling to the baby all the while. “Sure, Daddy’s been feeding them and keeping them alive this week, but as soon as Dada is mentioned, it’s like I’m chopped liver,” he complains with the same baby-voice he always uses when talking to her.

She gurgles and Dan sighs. “You’re right. Dada is the best.”

When he reaches the kitchen again, both kids are hovered by the laptop, rambling about their day. They’re interrupting each other more often than not, but Phil seems to be getting the gist of everything regardless. Dan busies himself with preparing a bottle for Natalie, humming to her as he heats up the water. He smiles and makes faces at her to keep her occupied, and his heart leaps when her lip curls just a little.

“Aren’t you Daddy’s little angel? Hm? Our precious girl?” He says in a sweet voice, smiling when she smacks her lips. “Oh, someone is hungry, huh?”

Apparently Amelia is listening to him, because she pipes up from across the room. “I’m hungry,” she says loudly.

“I know, love, I’m going to start dinner as soon as I feed Nat and put her down for another nap,” Dan replies.

Amelia huffs. She mutters something, and Dan tenses. Things had been a little tense since they brought Natalie home over a month ago, and Amelia was not shy about telling them how much she didn’t want a little sister for the months leading up to Natalie’s birth. Dan hates to think that this is their reality for the rest of forever, Amelia disliking her little sister to the point of contempt, but at this point, he wasn’t sure.

“Amelia,” Dan hears Phil say over the Skype call. He’s using his fatherly warning tone, and Dan is partially relieved. This week has been hell trying to balance four kids and a job (thank god it’s summer and his school counselor tasks were more sparse this time of year) as well as the weird energy Amelia has towards the baby, so it’s a relief for Phil to finally step in.

“I know,” Amelia says with an irritated sigh, rolling her eyes. Dan gives her a look, and she looks down.

“Honey, I know you don’t like this change in our family, but that’s just the way things are now, okay? Natalie is here to stay, and sooner or later you need to figure out how to live with that,” Phil tells her firmly.

Dan’s careful not to say anything. There’s been many times, over the years, where he’s been inclined to argue with Phil over their parenting methods, and there’s been times when those arguments have become proper fights. But they’re working on communication, both with each other and their kids, so this time, he keeps his mouth shut. Honestly, there’s not anything Phil said that he doesn’t agree with, so it’s not a hardship to let him take the lead on this one.

Amelia rubs at her eyes. “Fine,” she says tersely.

Dan’s heart clenches. He hates to see any of his children in pain, and he knows that Amelia isn’t wrong to be upset. A new sibling is an upending of her life, and especially since she’s gone from being the only daughter to just the oldest. He thinks about how he felt, at seven years old, when Adrian was born. He gets it.

“Mia, do you want to help me cook dinner tonight?” Dan asks.

Amelia brightens a little at that. “Can I chop peppers?”

Dan smiles. “You sure can. I need my favorite sous chef if I’m going to feed the masses in an orderly time,” he says with a wink.

She giggles, and he relaxes. Amelia starts to tell Phil about something that had happened earlier that day when Dan took them to the park, and Dan hurries about finishing Natalie’s bottle so he can feed her. She’s starting to get fussy, and he’s bouncing her carefully as he readies the bottle, checking the temperature on his wrist.

“Here we go,” he says softly, tucking the bottle nipple in her mouth. “Good stuff, huh?” He smiles down at her, stroking her soft little cheek. Her eyes drift shut and he allows himself to relax, wandering back over to the laptop and standing behind the kids so he can see Phil again.

“And Daddy said that tomorrow we’re gonna go to the zoo,” Amelia announces proudly.

“Might,” Dan says, emphasizing the word strongly. “I said we might go to the zoo.” He rolls his eyes at Phil, shaking his head in exasperation.

“But Daddy-“ Amelia whines.

Dan’s already shaking his head at her. “Nope, don’t start. I said we might go. Honestly, I don’t know if I can handle toting all three of you around by myself.”

“Toting all three of them around where?” A voice says, interrupting Amelia’s next complaint.

Dan turns around where Levi and Charlotte are walking into the kitchen and smiles at them. “The zoo. Possibly. Hi, Lottie. How was the movie?”

Charlotte shrugs, going to settle on the barstool closest to Amelia, accepting the hug Amelia gives her with a smile. “It was alright. The special effects were horrible. You’re going to hate the ending.”

“No spoilers!” He protests, shaking his head adamantly since he doesn’t have an empty hand to gesture with.

She grins and pretends to zip her lips before turning to the laptop, the Skype call still open. Phil is smiling at them, that goofy kind that Dan knows well. It usually means Phil is thinking about how lucky they are to have this life. Dan understands the feeling.

“Hi, Phil,” Charlotte greets with a little wave.

“Hi,” he waves back with a smile. “Did you guys wear your seatbelts?”

Charlotte nods, but Dan notices her give Levi a pointed look and Levi sighs, pulling out his wallet. Dan watches in amusement as he takes out a couple pounds, handing them to her with a roll of his eyes. When she notices Dan looking at her, Charlotte shrugs, looking only a little bit sheepish. “We had a bet on whether or not one of you would ask us about that,” she explains.

Dan snorts. He turns to Levi, giving him a fake disappointed look. “Probably should’ve seen that one coming, Levi.”

Levi sighs. “I knew that you probably wouldn’t, and I wasn’t counting on Dad being here when we got home.”

“Sorry,” Phil says with a grin.

“Are we ever gonna have dinner?” Amelia wails, interrupting whatever it was Phil was going to say next.

“I’m starving,” Jaiden agrees from beside her. He turns to look at Dan, pouting. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just order pizza?”

Dan looks straight at Phil, giving him a very pointed look. “That one is all yours,” he says, nodding to Jaiden.

Phil at least has the decency to look almost embarrassed. “I mean... he’s got a fair point, babe,” Phil says with a little grin.

Dan sighs. Natalie’s bottle makes a snapping noise and Dan looks down to find she’s only got a couple swallows left in the nipple. He’s careful to watch and pull it out of her mouth before she can start swallowing any air, placing it on the counter to be washed later as he grins at her. “Well done Nat-Nat! You finished all your din-din.”

The baby gurgles at him and Dan smiles as he takes her up to his shoulder, burping her gently. The kids are still talking amongst themselves, but Dan catches Phil watching him through the screen. He smiles helplessly, shrugging at his husband, and Phil grins back.

“I guess I should let you go so you can put her down and start dinner,” Phil says, a resigned sigh in his voice.

Dan hates it, but he’s right. Dan could sit here talking to Phil all evening instead of ever bothering to cook dinner, and with a houseful of hungry children, that’s hardly an option. “Yeah, I guess so,” Dan agrees. “Everyone, say goodnight to Dad, he’s gotta go eat some dinner and get to bed, and so do we.”

The kids all make their noises of complaint but he watches, rocking the baby with a smile, as each of the kids tell Phil goodnight. Dan shoos them all out of the kitchen with Levi’s help, and then it’s just Phil and Dan and the baby.

“I miss you,” Dan says.

Phil smiles. “I miss you more.”

Dan shakes his head, resting his cheek gently against Natalie’s little head. “I seriously doubt that,” he says softly.

“It’s true,” Phil replies, dropping his chin to rest in his hand. “But I’ll be home soon, okay?”

Dan nods. “Right,” he agrees. “I love you.”

Phil blows him a kiss, their usual parting on these calls. “I love you too, bub. I’ll text you later, yeah?”

“Okay. Goodnight. Love you.”

Phil grins when Dan repeats himself. “Goodnight, Dan. I love you. Tell the kids I’ll be home soon.”

“Of course. Bye,” he says, waving for a second before the screen goes black. He sighs, looking down at Natalie’s sweet, sleepy little face. “I can’t wait for your other Dad to come home, munchkin. This one needs a break and a good snuggle.”

She smacks her lips and closes her eyes and Dan smiles, rolling his eyes. “I know, your life is so hard, being a baby. Let’s get you down for another nap, love.”

~~~

The next night, Dan wakes up from a deep sleep to warm breath on his neck. At first he’s confused, grunting as he tries to roll over, but a heavy weight around his waist stops him. “What the...”

“Shh,” a deep and unmistakable voice murmurs in his ear. “‘M tryin’ sleep.”

Suddenly, Dan is wide awake, rolling over quickly despite the protests from his husband. “Phil,” he breathes, warm and happy.

Phil blinks at him, a goofy, exhausted smile on his face. “Hi,” he says sheepishly.

Dan wraps himself around Phil immediately, peppering kisses to everywhere he can reach. “I missed you,” he kisses across Phil’s brow bone, feeling Phil’s breath on his collarbones. “So much.”

“I missed you too,” Phil replies with a little laugh, kissing at Dan’s throat.

Something occurs to Dan then and he pulls away, staring at Phil with a furrowed brow. “I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow.” He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help but be a little accusatory. He wanted to make sure the house was clean, maybe do some laundry. Just the sort of husband things one did when they were in the best relationship of their life.

Phil gives him a sheepish smile. “I changed my flight so I could come home early and surprise you.”

Dan feels so much all at once, it reminds him of how it was in the early days, before the kids, before the fostering, before they even knew that they had feelings for each other. It’s overwhelming for a moment, and then Phil is tilting his chin, guiding their mouths together in a perfect kiss.

“Mm,” Dan hums against his lips. “I love you.”

Phil laughs. “Love you more.” His hand slips down Dan’s waist, his fingertips dipping just under the hand of Dan’s pants. Dan is hit with a wave of arousal so strong, and it’s not lost on him that it’s been more than a month since they had proper sex. He loved Natalie more than life itself, but raising a baby on top of the three children they already had was proving to be much more difficult than they’d anticipated. But after all they’d been through, the strain of no sex was nothing they couldn’t handle. After all, they’d gone ten years without it before.

Still, he’s only human, and when his husband is petting the soft skin at his hip, he can only react like any mortal man would. “Baby,” he sighs.

“Hm?”

It hits Dan what he’d just said, and he quickly remembers the other inhabitant of this room. “Phil. Phil, the baby,” he mumbles, tapping Phil’s arm.

“Already took care of her,” Phil replies back, kissing at Dan’s jaw.

“What? When?” Dan asks, pushing him back a bit.

Phil smiles. “When I got home. You were already asleep so I checked on the kids and then took Nat downstairs for a bottle and some cuddles.”

“Oh.” The image of that, of Phil coming in late and taking their baby down for her midnight bottle, is nearly enough to make Dan cry and definitely enough to turn him off. “Well, thank you for that, but I don’t think I feel like fooling around tonight, if that’s okay.”

Phil pecks him on the cheek with a little giggle. “Of course that’s okay, you idiot. I didn’t just come home early for that, you know. I mostly missed having my little space heater,” he says with a grin.

Dan rolls his eyes, but can’t help the way he smiles and leans in for another kiss. “Sometimes I think you only married me for my good looks and my stupidly hot body temperature.”

Phil kisses him back, but he’s smiling so hard that it’s sloppy. “Oh for sure. Those were my top two requirements for a husband. Is hot, runs hot.”

Dan snorts. “Right. So, father of your children was somewhere further down that list, I’m assuming?”

“Something like that,” Phil teases.

“You’re such an idiot,” Dan smiles, kissing Phil’s cheek before snuggling in for the night.

“But I’m your idiot,” Phil says in a stupid, sleepy voice.

Dan smiles, pressing one last kiss to Phil’s chest. “Always.”

#phan #phanfiction #parent!au #foster parent au #parent!phan #foster parent #bbc producer!phil #school counselor!dan #fake relationship #friends to lovers #best friends #if you don't love me pretend #iydlmp epilogue #epilogue #my fic

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karasunology · 4 years

Text

⸙ ˚₊ ➷ THE MIYA TWINS & BOKUTO KOUTARO AS YOUR OLDER BROTHERS ! ❞

╰─ ─ ﾟheadcanons of the best twins & ace of my heart being your older brothers.

✐ . . . BIG BROTHER HEADCANONS.

[ OIKAWA TOORU & KAGEYAMA TOBIO VERSION. ] [ SUNA RINTAROU & KITA SHINSUKE VERSION. ]

-ˏˋ ➶ character(s) ━ bokuto koutaro, miya atsumu & miya osamu <3

[ trigger warnings ━ slight manga spoilers !! ]

-ˏˋ ✉️ REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN.

⇣ please read the RULES before requesting.

MIYA TWINS.

➜ oh my goodness, i pray so hard and dearly for your parents because y'all are WILD WILD

➜ when you guys were young, you know those videos of twins confusing their baby on who's their parent??

➜ yeah THESE TWO TRIED IT WITH YOU

➜ it was probably atsumu's dumb idea

➜ he watched it a few days ago in youtube

➜ so he suggested it to osamu which begrudgingly accepted, curious on how you would react

“ c'mon, come to big brother 'samu ”

➜ atsumu says as he stretches his arms out to you while you're oblivious poor innocent ass was doing the grabby hands to him

➜ ngl you looked so cute he felt a little guilty for what's to come

➜ while osamu sits next to him with a monotonous expression

“ no, i'm big brother 'samu ”

➜ your head spun to his direction

➜ and you're just like 👁👄👁

➜ while switching left and right in confusion as you dropped your arms down so fucking fast LMAO

➜ while atsumu was trying so hard, really he promised he won't laugh so soon, that osamu keeps pestering him to shut his bitch as up

➜ until the faintest of sobs were heard, forcing their mini argument to a halt

“ will you stay quiet ─ ”

“ ─ oh no no no, please don't cry ”

➜ osamu is in distraught because he actually doesn't know how to take care of a child crying

➜ while astumu is trying to carry you

“ hngg i ─ hic ─ want big brother 'samu ─ hic ! ”

➜ bitch almost wanted to drop you right then and there honestly

➜ he's like ??? DOES THIS BITCH EVEN KNOW I EXIST EYE??

➜ and when osamu heard you calling out to him, something in him snapped

“ i knew this was a bad idea ─ ”

➜ as he shoved atsumu off of you, hugging you as he tries to coo you, whispering “ shh . . don't ya worry, yer big brother 'samu is here ”

➜ this MANS OHMYGOD

➜ your cries seemed to have ceased as atsumu is standing there like ??

➜ i'm thEIR BROTHER TOO !!

➜ bb boy held a grudge on you for a few weeks ngl

➜ but then you grew up and now you know that you actually have two (2) big bro 'samu

➜ but more annoying & bitchy

➜ you're their favourite victim to bully

➜ well, atsumu

➜ but they won't let their teasing lead to you crying because they actually can't stand the sight of their younger sibling crying

➜ contrary to popular belief, when you realized there was another big bro 'samu, you were now attached to atsumu while he's similing smugly and triumphly at osamu

➜ atsumu would 100% be very competitive for your attention though he makes you hate him whenever he bullies you

➜ but we all know osamu hates losing

➜ so there was definitely a time of your life that their fighting over who was the best big brother

➜ ugh y'all cute cute

➜ while you're helping osamu around the kitchen, atsumu would just watch from the side lines because the kitchen is kinda yours and osamu's thing

➜ though while in his earlier years, he'd get upset because he wants you to hang out with him too :(

➜ while you have the cooking thing with osamu, you have the baking thing with atsumu

➜ shh hear me out

➜ osamu is actually not good at baking shit

➜ the first time he attempted baking was when you joined a baking club & now you're obsessed with making cupcakes and all that good good

➜ and he wanted to also try and back

➜ and how and what did he do to make your cupcakes look like dog shit was beyond you

➜ and while smelling something burning, atsumu ran to the kitchen and after realizing what osamu did

➜ he'd try and make your next batch of cupcakes presentable

➜ because he's?? actually?? good at it??

➜ and now you guys have your baking sessions and brother 'tsumu bonding time

➜ but even though you guys have other things with the other person, you guys LOVED doing chores together

➜ like, your guys' mom would make the boys clean the bathroom and before you knew it, LIKE YOU WENT THERE JUST TO TALK TO THEM WHILE THEY CLEAN, you find yourself cleaning the toilet necause atsumu ain't doing that shit

➜ washing dishes?? that as well

➜ you and atsumu would be the ones washing while osmu would do the drying

➜ 11/10 of the time would leave you guys a damped mess

➜ while cleaning the kitchen, i absoloutely headcanon, like STRONGLY

➜ that you guys would just talk either about random shit, talk shit about someone honestly, or quote reality tv shows

➜ like one thing you would be sweeping the kitchen floor, and while sweeping, you accidentally hit the trash bin hard that the contents flew out of it as it fell down the floor

➜ and atsumu's like : “ pooja what is this behaviour?? ”

➜ then something clicked in you that made you remember that one show bigg boss something

➜ and you'd be like : “ i'm sorry i kicked it ny mistake ”

➜ osamu would roll his eyes before joining you two : “ you can't kick it by mistake ”

➜ “ then pick it up if it bothers you ”

➜ ugh y'all aRE ICONS

➜ y'all would be at the pool and atsumu would shout “ oh no my diamond earing is gone ”

➜ and osamu would reply “ kim, there's people that are dying. ”

➜ you'll be their biggest fan in the court

➜ whenever they play with you on the sidelines something in them just snapped and they'll be scoring points by points in a row

➜ they lowkey love to show off

➜ if you're a girl, every fangirl of they have would be wary of you at first, but then realized that you were just their little sister

➜ and to their bisexual fans, they would ngl have a huge ass crush on you too

➜ and if you're a boy as well, oH MY GOD WOULD THEY HAVE FALLEN AMD CAN'T GET UP

➜ LIKE BITCH THE MIYA GENES ARE THRIVING IN THE THREE OF YOU

➜ you bet they'd be throwing hands if someone decided to break your heart

➜ though, osamu would be the more rational one

➜ if they ever meet your s/o, atsumu would want to rile them up while osamu is just being calm but the scarier one of the two?? but he knows you don't need any protecting because you know how to do it yourself & you don't have any need for that

➜ 12/10 would recommend as brothers

➜ in conclusion, you guys may not always get along, but you know damn well they care about you and would apologize right away if they did something too far. and you guys are such good sibling goals😤

BOKUTO KOUTARO.

➜ definitely know how to deal with his emo mode

➜ since you guys grew up together

➜ and sadly, you didn't have an akaashi to help you out with it while you were young

➜ like he'd be the older brother but you would probably be the more mature one

➜ but while you guys were young, he was your knight & shinning armor

➜ like when you scraped your knee while trying to catch him, he'll do a 180° and bitch has never ran faster to you than that time

➜ & if you were crying because of it, he'll make stupid jokes but it'll always make you forget about the pain in your knee

➜ and it's one of those times that you could really see that he was actually older than you

➜ then he'll piggyback you back to your house

➜ homeboy be reliable even while he was young wow

➜ and even 'till now

➜ if you ever got sick or injured

➜ or god forbid, HEARBROKEN by someone

➜ a bitch will throw hands

➜ but before that he'll make you laugh & do his best to take your mind off whatever is causing you to hurt

➜ ngl you would always look up to him, even if he may seem childish

➜ he'll hang out with you the rest of the day, he doesn't care if it's a school day, he'll drag akaashi with him

➜ my boy here GIVES THE BEST ADVICES

➜ though he may reword them differently, but his advices never seemed to fail you

➜ fights don't usually happen, and if they do they're probably serious

➜ he's the type of brother that lets you sneak out the house

➜ he'll usually back you up in everything

➜ and this bitch would take the fall for your faults

➜ ugh WE STAN

➜ but also if you sneak out the house to your significant other, bb boy has to know their number, address, occupation etc.

➜ because he ain't having a broken hearted sibling

➜ and he just wants the best for you

➜ and in the future, though he may be busy with being a professional volleyball player;

➜ he'll always have time for you

➜ he'll cLEAR OUT HIS SCHEDULE JUST FOR YOU

➜ you're that urgent to him

➜ your his first best friend before volleyball

➜ speaking of volleyball, if you aren't found in the stands in his matches ─ he'll go TO EMO MODE Y'ALL

➜ because you're usually always there in his games and it makes him give all his 120%

➜ since he's usually busy, he'll ALWAYS have those covey sisters movie nights

➜ if ykyk

➜ he's a sucker for family bonding time ogey

➜ the type to binge watch all the hsm movies & know all the lyrics to all the songs

➜ the type to defend sharpay with all his might

➜ and you guessed it right

➜ sharpay is his favourite character

➜ no one tell me otherwise

➜ THE TYPE TO DUET SONGS WITH YOU

➜ HIS FAVOURITE?

➜ EVERY SHARPAY & RYAN SONGS

➜ HE'LL BE SHARPAY AND YOU'LL BE RYAN

➜ AND THAT'S ON BOP TO THE TOP

➜ hates horror movies

➜ so if you ever watch it with him, he won't leave your side for the rest of the night & will have a sleepover on the living room

➜ f o r t s

➜ loves doing ridiculous challanges

➜ your phone would be BOMBARDED with crackhead videos of him

➜ probably broke a bone or two ngl

➜ 100/10 would recommend as a brother

➜ in conclusion, he may not always be there, and would be a bit childish & needy at times; but you know that he would step up as a big brother for you ANYDAY, ANYNIGHT, ANYTIME. because how could he want the best for you when he's not being his best on his part?

-ˏˋ playing soleil's tape ˊˎ-

[ 📼 ] . . . tumblr won't let this post show on the tags now i have to repost them all over again phew chile. watch me throw hands😤

#haikyuu social media au #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #bokuto koutaro x reader #haikyuu masterlist #haikyuu smau #oikawa tooru smau #miya atsumu smau #hq imagines #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #miya atsumu headcanons #miya osamu headcanons #bokuto koutaro headcanons

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liquorisce · 3 years

Text

High School Years, Ch 3: aftermath.

pairing: eren x mikasa (SnK)

rating: M. (nsfw)

Summary: for eren and mikasa, love was easy; they'd loved each other forever. but physical attraction? that's a whole other story.

read on ao3 | chap 2 | chap 1

The morning after the… “confrontation”, when they walk to school, they hold hands. It's a new dimension of their ‘relationship’, and the thought of calling it that, of calling Eren her ‘boyfriend,’ is something that makes her feel so many things.

“So um,” she begins, squeezing his hand a little bit, soft pink dusting her cheeks, as he turns to look at her questioningly. “... Are we going to tell the gang?”

For the briefest moment he looks confused, but when he sees her shy expression, not spelling it out because she doesn’t know how to say it yet, his eyes widen in understanding. “Ah that you and I...,” he colours, just a little bit, because it wasn’t until the words were literally at the tip of his tongue, that he realizes he doesn’t know how to say it either.

She’d said it last night, called him her boyfriend, and it did things to him, making his heart constrict with a nervous kind of excitement. Because he was Mikasa’s boyfriend, and that was something of an honour.

But another part of him, the part that recognizes what it means for a high school kid, just finds it completely lacking, he doesn’t want to announce that he’s ‘dating’ Mikasa Ackerman, the word simply does not do it justice. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to hear her name in the gossip rings, from the mouths of shallow, boring girls who have little better to do than keep track of their high school reality show or from the dirty whispers of teenage boys who can’t control their hormones (if Eren is one of them, he doesn’t acknowledge it).

“... Maybe we could just keep it quiet? Just for a little while…” He watches her expressions searchingly, and she does that thing that she does, hides into her bangs when she doesn’t want him to see what she’s thinking and he panics, just a little.

“Hey, listen,” he stops her by the wrist, before they round the corner onto the street of their school. “... It’s not that I want to hide it,” he whispers, resting his forehead against hers, because god forbid she thinks he’s embarrassed or ashamed or anything short of absolutely ecstatic, “You know that, right?”

She closes her eyes and she lets the waves of insecurity pass her by. Surely, there was nothing more to worry about. He’d made no secret of the depth of his feelings last night. “Mm-hmm.” She feels his minty breath cool on her lower lip and she reaches up to press her mouth against his. It’s tentative, the way she does it, reserved and shy but completely incomparable. It’s like everything she does, he thinks breathlessly, as he deepens the kiss. There’s no one like her.

She threads her hands into his already messed up hair, breathing harshly as she breaks away from his kiss. “I don’t mind,” she agrees, “... I think I’d like it to be just between us for a while…”

And because he’s so grateful that he’s in love with his best damn friend, who knows him and understands him like nobody else, he kisses her again… just because he can.

…

They know. He doesn’t know how they know, but they fucking know, and he mutters unhappily under his breath, “... fucking vultures, the whole lot of them.”

Armin smirks, not unsympathetically. They’d mutually decided to tell him (rather, he spotted them holding hands, and he’d almost cried in happiness), even though Eren had been somewhat sour about it, sulking when Mikasa had pointed out that they obviously needed to tell Armin. Eren was a brat, and a jealous one, especially where Mikasa was concerned, so despite having ample proof by now that the kiss between Armin and her had meant nothing, it remained a sore topic for him.

“Isn’t it easier this way? At least now you won’t have to stare down all the boys queuing up to ask for her number in the cafeteria.”

“... That’s not the point,” Eren sulks, even though he knows Armin has a point (he always does), the phenomenon he’d described was a canonical and frequent event that he actively loathes, because Mikasa was quite free with her personal details that way.

( It’s high school, Eren , she’d told him exasperatedly one day when he’d actually brought it up to her, if I don’t give them my number they’ll get it from someone else anyway. Besides, the block functionality is quite useful .)

Somehow Eren is fairly certain that knowing she was in a relationship wouldn’t be enough to deter potential suitors (/ fanboys) and as they walk towards their class, he spots the best example of this crass behaviour in none other than his horse faced friend chatting up his girlfriend, who seemed to be fairly liberal with her smiles.

Armin watches the scene from right next to him and snorts, barely able to contain his laughter. “... You’re so transparent, Eren.”

“Clearly the news hasn’t reached everyone,” he clears his throat, tearing his gaze away from the beauty and the beast, trying his best to remain civil and not scare his girlfriend away in less than 24 hours of them being, you know, together .

“This is what you wanted,” Armin reminds him, clapping his shoulder sportingly, barely able to contain his grin.

…

She tugs nervously at her hair, feeling ridiculously exposed despite the fluffy maroon scarf around her neck. She hadn’t been prepared for the events of yesterday, be it the emotional confession, or the heated kisses, or the possessive nips at her neck.

She certainly wasn’t prepared for the self consciousness that came with the marks he left on her, and had absolutely no knowledge of the make up skills required to cover it. (It hadn’t helped that it had taken Armin less than two minutes to spot the hickeys.)

But what she was least prepared for, is how almost everyone seemed to know, without her even having to open her mouth, and how they all seemed to have an opinion.

… Aw, but I was really counting on him getting back together with Krista… they were so cute…

… I wonder how long he’ll stay with this one…

… wait, Mikasa Ackerman? Aren’t they like practically siblings or something? Ewwww~

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to gag, or if she wanted to hide… or both.

She doesn’t hide. Because Mikasa Ackerman is a class act and despite feeling completely torn up listening to bitchy people talk about her like she does not possess hearing, she goes through the day looking outwardly untouchable.

But after trudging through the entire day of listening to absolute bullshit rumours and whispering, she’s pretty sure she feels a migraine incoming. Groaning to herself, as she takes out her notebook from her locker, she finds herself face to face with a chirpy voice that she once hated.

“... Hey,” Krista says, with a small smile. “... rough day, huh.”

Mikasa nods, it’s not that she dislikes the cute blonde in front of her (not too much, anyway), it’s just that today was not the day she wants to be visually reminded of her existence. Because watching her, in her white miniskirt and pink sweater, perfect blonde hair and her perfect smile, is reminiscent of all the days she hid in her room with only her insecurity for company.

“So um,” Krista begins, because Mikasa can be comfortable in her silence, just looking at Krista questioningly. “... Everyone’s talking about it, basically,” she blurts out, unable to help herself.

“And if you want to know whom to smack, it’s Hitch, because she says she saw you guys holding hands outside school and making out, and she snapchatted it to the whole world, because that’s what she does and,” - Mikasa’s eyes narrow and Krista takes a deep breath.

“Look, I just wanted to reach out, and you know,” she clears her throat, like it was obvious what she was doing here. Mikasa just looks blank, feels blank. “... Like, I don’t want it to be awkward or anything, between us,” Mikasa is genuinely confused at this point, because there didn’t have to be an us, between her and Krista, their social circles were comfortably distant enough to have as minimal interaction as possible. “... You seem like a great person, and honestly, I’m not even surprised you guys ended up together. It was just a matter of time, I guess.”

She smiles earnestly as she says this, and Mikasa finds herself liking the short blonde despite herself, and offers a smile back. “... Thanks, that’s sweet of you.”

“And um,” Krista offers, completely casually, “... I could lend you some concealer if you wanna… you know, cover that up.”

…

“Snapchat!” Sasha wails theatrically, “... I can’t believe this is what our friendship has boiled down to.”

Mikasa has the grace to look guilty. “Explain to me, bestie ,” Sasha can be quite scary when she has her manic face on, “why, I had to receive a snap from the school’s number one hoe, informing me of the fact that my best friend had finally hooked up with her absolute thirst trap of a roommate.”

She doesn’t have much to say to defend herself, she simply slinks lower into her seat. “... I’ll buy you lunch for a week,” Mikasa whispers, defeated.

“Oh you better,” Sasha declares, still fuming. “... Snapchat, are you fucking kidding me…” She turns around once more, sizing Mikasa up deliberately. “... What about that time I walked in on you guys, in the kitchen, and he didn’t have a shirt on?” Sasha narrows her eyes accusingly. “... Were you two already…? Did you lie to me back then?”

“No! God, no,” Mikasa vaguely wonders why she sounds so defensive and apologetic about her own love life, but she remembers that Sasha is upset and for what it’s worth, she loves her like a sister, so she says, “... I swear, there was nothing between us then. It only happened, like… last night.”

Mikasa blushes as she says it, and the twinkle returns to Sasha’s brown eyes. “You must tell me everything,” she commands, and despite her sighing and blushing and giggling, Mikasa does exactly that.

...

He waits for her as they walk back from school. This is new too. Well not entirely, they’d walk back together, the three of them, Him, Mikasa and Armin, everyday in middle school, but high school had brought them different routines, and a distance that he was happy to get rid of.

“So…” he says as he slips his fingers between hers. “So much for our plan to keep it quiet.”

She burrows her head into his arm, “... everyone knew. Literally everyone.” After a minute, she adds reproachfully, “The hickeys you left on my neck didn’t help, either.”

He grins despite the glare she gives him. Embarrassing or not, he didn’t regret it one bit, not the moments that led up to those anyway... the way she’d found herself on his lap, fitting so perfectly in his arms, and against his mouth. The way she’d gasped when he’d let himself explore the sensitive skin on her neck.

He understands her situation, but god, there was no way he’d apologize for the sheer sensation he’d felt in that moment.

Tugging at her scarf to see his own handiwork, he can’t help his disappointment when he sees only a faint outline of them on her pretty skin. “... I see you’ve covered them up.”

“Ah,” Mikasa grins, “... that was your ex, actually.”

She feels him still, letting go of her hand for a brief moment. “... What?” Eren blinks nervously. They don’t really talk about his ex, not much more than they did yesterday anyway, and he wishes they’d never have to, not now that he knows perfectly well how much it had hurt Mikasa.

“You… um, spoke to her today?”

Mikasa nods, “... She came by to say hello, yeah.” And because Eren looks extremely uncomfortable at the thought, she giggles and tells him, “She says she didn’t want things to be awkward between us.”

Eren groans, “... this sounds like the teaser to every high school drama ever.” But despite his sarcasm, he was worried because despite Mikasa’s unassuming popularity in school, she lived her life outside of the cliques, the gossip rings, the drama… and Krista, sweet that she was, was somehow always in the thick of it.

“Don’t worry,” Mikasa says sweetly, “... if you want me to tell you that we had a catfight over you, prepare for disappointment.”

He grins in relief and asks, “... Is it so wrong to indulge in the fantasy of you fighting with another girl over me?” And because he can’t help himself, he adds, “You’d win for sure, Mikasa.”

…

As long as she can remember, Mikasa had been in love with Eren. It wasn’t complicated, or confusing for her, she’d loved him and she’d always known it.

When she was younger she had less trouble expressing it, they played together all the time, and she shared her toys with him, her sweets, and promised his mom she would take care of him when he got into trouble.

During her darkest days (after losing her parents), he would look after her, keep an eye out for her, tuck her in sometimes and sleep by her side when she had nightmares. Back then it was easier to ask for his attention - Eren could you stay with me, she remembers her 12 year old self asking, sniffling in the night, with no inhibitions, just a young girl asking for comfort from the boy she shared everything with.

(He’d given her everything she asked for graciously, fussing over her in his own way, watching over her even when she didn’t notice.)

It’s the ‘how’ that increased in complexity, the way she wanted more and more as the years went by, until the point where her love for him was a complete stranger. It was frustrating when she first realized it, when she realized she looked at him more often than usual… when she realized she wanted him to look at her too.

Growing up they’d watch movies together, and she’d often wonder about the way the hero kissed the heroine at the end of the movie, and wondered if someday Eren would kiss her like that. Most of all she wondered if Eren thought about it too.

When he started dating, that became amply clear to her - he thought of kissing, and to her unfortunate attention, it became clear that he thought of much more too. Those months were incredibly difficult for Mikasa because not only did she have to go through life like nothing had changed - ostensibly nothing had, not between them - but she had to police every indiscrete thought when he walked around after his shower without a shirt on, she had to control her gaze every time it fell on his beautiful mouth, wondering exactly what it would feel like against hers.

And for the first time in the longest time, Mikasa could no longer love Eren the way she always had, openly and without shame, she could no longer ask of him his care and attention.

But it feels like overnight so much has changed, she can barely comprehend it. Eren is so generous with his attention (his love), she wonders if the last couple of years of distance was the doing of her own imagination.

He is so free with his touches, sometimes gentle on her waist, sometimes tender on her face, sometimes rough in her hair (this excites her most of all). She no longer has to wonder if he’d ever kiss her like in the movies, he kisses whenever he damn pleases, and it always, always takes her by surprise. And it is so much better than she has ever imagined.

…

He saunters in as she prepares the tofu carefully, and because Mikasa is a perfectionist in everything she does, she’s concentrating completely on flipping each piece at the perfect moment when they turn golden brown.

But because Eren finds literally everything she does impossibly cute, he wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her gleefully on the cheek. It has the desired effect, she gasps, dropping her fork, and he catches her in an open mouthed kiss.

He manages to distract her for a good couple of minutes until she smells the tofu becoming decidedly darker than golden brown. “Erennn,” she whines, “... my tofu is ruined!”

“I’m sure it’ll taste wonderful,” he says because she’s an excellent cook, but also because he’s slightly affronted that by the way she pulls away in complaint.

“Please. Go sit,” she swats him away, making him pout adorably. He does as he is told and waits till she plates the food minutes later, and he’s pleased to say that he was absolutely right, it did taste wonderful.

But he’s more eager to eat up as soon as possible and finish what he tried to start a few moments ago.

“What are you going to do after dinner?” The answer he wants to hear is I’d like to make out with my boyfriend , but just as he expected, Mikasa’s mind is on a slightly different wavelength.

“... Hmm,” she eyes him suspiciously, “... I guess I’ll finish cleaning up and read the latest chapter in English Lit before bed, and just drift off to sleep. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he states innocently. “... I’ll help you clean up.”

He changes the topic before they have a chance to linger, and does good on his promise to clean up as fast as he can. It’s ridiculous the way he’s acting, and he doesn’t understand it himself, but he can’t seem to help himself. He can’t seem to stop looking at her, can’t seem to stop craving her, whether it’s the closeness of her body or the taste of her lips, and he’s pretty certain the way he’s acting right now is downright embarrassing, but somehow since its with Mikasa, he feels emboldened.

Or at least that’s how he’d felt until recently. Of late there’s been just the slightest amount of doubt that’s crept in. He finds himself wondering if it’s just him who feels this way, this inexplicable urge, and he wishes that she’d be the one reaching for him more often.

“Thanks, Eren,” she murmurs, breaking him out of his intense internal monologue, when she reaches over and brushes a chaste kiss on his cheek. It warms him instantly, immediately making him want more.

He dries up and follows her out of the kitchen, and as she turns into her room, he grabs her wrist and says, “... Mikasa, wait,” and when she flips her head to look at him, he nestles her against the wall and whispers, “... I just wanted to say goodnight,” before kissing her full on the mouth.

For all that he internally complains about her not initiating their kisses enough, she responds beautifully to him, opening her mouth to him, and slipping her tongue inside, gasping when his fingers slip under her shirt, brushing softly above her ribcage. She slides one hand around his neck and the other clutches his shirt, pulling him so close to her, he revels in the feeling of her body pressed against hers.

He doesn’t even know how, or why, because he isn’t thinking when he’s kissing Mikasa, just going with it, running on the sheer feeling of it all, because he just gives into her - but she’s got both arms around his neck and he’s pressing her so firmly against the wall, tongue shameless in its exploration of her mouth, he slips one of his legs between hers.

She likes it, likes the pressure between her legs and she finds herself moving against him, grinding almost, embarrassingly, and she doesn’t even register consciously, until she feels him hard and pressed up against her thigh. She makes an embarrassing noise, something between a gasp and a moan, and suddenly his eyes snap open, all too conscious of their position.

She feels him twitch against her, and she can barely breathe with the excitement of it all, the newness… the feeling. He looks at her like a different person, green eyes heady and searching, holding her in a heated gaze. But in the most crushingly confusing move, he steps back and whispers “good night,” before turning towards his own room.

Quite frankly, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Any more of that and she would’ve melted into jelly all over the leg that was between her thighs. And instead of pursuing that intense, boneless feeling, she finds herself catching her breath alone in the hallway with a confoundingly novel ache between her legs.

…

He watches her at the tennis court the next day; he drags Armin with him.

He’s never cared much for the game itself, only knows the basic rules because Mikasa’s been playing for years. She has a practice match today, against Jean, and he’d claimed he’d only wanted to see ‘his girl’ crush that horse face to the ground.

But the more he sits next to Eren, the more Armin feels decidedly uncomfortable. “Oi, Eren,” he says, when he’s fairly certain he’s had enough. Eren looks at him annoyed for being distracted from the game. “... What?”

Armin pinches the bridge of his nose before speaking, because how does he say this politely? “... You’re staring.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t huh me! You’re literally ogling her,” he hisses under his breath, “... it’s embarrassing, so please stop.”

He feels his face burn as he splutters, “I, I’m just watching the-,” he’s quite literally red by this point, “... Armin, what the fuck?” He just wants to hide, and so he hides his face in his hands.

He was right, he was staring, and he knew this because his mind had memorized the way she looked in that outfit, white tank top low cut and body hugging and giving him an excellent view as she moved. And he didn’t even want to comment on the way those shorts hugged her curves and how it flowed perfectly into her long, glorious legs.

If he could kick himself he would.

“What’s going on with you?” Armin asks, after he gives Eren a moment to recover from absolute mortification. Hesitating, he says, “... This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you staring at her like this recently.”

He looks at Armin helplessly, because he doesn’t know how to put it into words. “You can talk to me,” Armin coaxes him, “... you do embarrassing shit in front of me all the time anyway,” he supplies helpfully.

There’s conflict in his green eyes as he considers just how to say it, if he wants to at all. He’s still not a hundred per cent over the fact that Armin was Mikasa’s first kiss and if anyone could hold a (pointless) grudge it was Eren.

“However if you still choose to not talk to me about Mikasa because you are hung up over a stupid drunk kiss, then that’s completely fine with me too,” Armin says, reading Eren’s mind cheerfully.

“... You didn’t have to bring it up,” he says sullenly. Armin rolls his eyes. “... You’re thinking about it anyway, so I might as well talk about it.” He’s known him far too long to not understand the very simplistic nature of Eren’s thought processes.

“... I can’t stop looking at her,” he confesses, deciding to gloss over the discomfort of their kiss and focus on the main problem instead. “I hadn’t noticed,” Armin quips dryly, and Eren glares at him - so much for ‘ You can talk to me, Eren.’

“I’m losing my mind here, Armin,” trust Eren to always be dramatic, without fail, “... You can make fun of me all you want, but everytime I look at her, I,” he inhales sharply. “... God, I feel disgusting. It’s Mikasa for fuck’s sake.”

And It’s Mikasa whom his friend had always been slightly unhinged for, but Armin thinks better of saying this.

“... I feel like I just don't know how to look at her respectfully anymore,” and he says

this almost choked, so distressed, that Armin tries very very hard to suppress a laugh.

…

She wishes she hadn’t done it.

In a rare moment of weakness that she now regrets, she had given into Sasha’s ever curious inquisitions into her love life. And by love life here, Sasha was explicitly digging for the good stuff.

“Eh?!?”

Mikasa waits patiently for Sasha to return from her high pitched look of disbelief.

“... What do you mean you haven’t slept together yet?” Sasha asks, a bit calmer this time, but still urgently distressed about the matter.

“We just… haven’t,” Mikasa explains rather unsatisfyingly.

“So… do you like, want to wait or something? I thought you’ve been in love with him since forever…”

No matter how much she’s accepted that fact herself, it still makes her blush when she hears it out loud. “... It’s not like, I want to, um, wait or anything,” she confesses. Because she’s found herself thinking of the same thing every night since the time Eren had her against the wall, pinned against him and his hardness. It’s almost like it created a monster out of her, a monstrous desire that has her eyeing him out the corner of her eye whenever she gets the chance. It makes her seek him out more often, seek him out after his workout, after his shower, innocently, by accident of course, and she’s ashamed of herself.

“... You just need to jump him,” Sasha says, with the utmost seriousness. Like she knew anything at all on this subject. “And boy have I got the perfect thing to help you.”

…

Mikasa Ackerman is a huge fan of Marie Kondo. It was one of the curiously annoying yet cute things about her that Eren has an impressively large list of.

She’s watched the Netflix show more times than he can count, follows her on Youtube, and once he’d seen her pray to her room or some shit before she started cleaning. It mystifies him, and he doesn’t care enough to understand more so he just goes along with it.

Today she’s decided she has way too many clothes and she will only keep what “sparks joy” in her, so she’s strewn out her entire closet and demanded in the sweetest way that he helps her with her mission.

(She throws in the offer of trying out all her outfits before she throws them out, and Eren is horny for a fashion show or the moments in between so he readily agrees)

“... I’m not sure about this one,” she says, eyeing herself in the green dress critically.

Eren’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “... You’re kidding, you look like a fucking goddess, Mikasa.”

She blushes happily with the compliment, but Eren isn’t exaggerating. It’s a slinky strapless number which was incredibly short. And it had a slit. According to Eren, the slit could not be emphasized enough.

“... Your legs look incredible,” he says, providing her the only decent compliment he can muster. The rest he does his best to convey with eyes.

“... It just doesn’t feel like something I wear usually, you know… so I don’t know if it sparks joy...”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes, “Well, you should wear it. C’mere let me help you spark some joy,” he says, playfully pulling her down into the pile of clothes that made a poofy bed on the floor.

She giggles, settling over him happily, and for a moment his sappy little heart feels like it’s going to explode. He’s pretty sure her giggle is his most favourite sound in the whole world.

“... You’re insane,” he breathes, relishing in the way she feels on top of him, his hands sliding up her legs and resting just beneath the hem of her dress (just beneath her ass). She kisses him sweetly, tongue flicking gently on his lip and making him groan softly. His hands brush past her ass, caressing ever so softly as they come to rest on the small of her back.

She deepens the kiss, and he grabs her hips roughly, angling her mouth onto his in a way that suits him, gives him access and he sighs into her mouth. The view of her on top of him, is unparalleled, her thighs around his hips and her chest heaving temptingly with her harsh breathing. He closes his eyes and captures her mouth again before he makes a fool of himself in front of her again.

But she has her hands in his hair, and she’s pressing down, grinding down against his crotch, and he can feel himself pulse at every brush of contact, and he groans knowing fully well that there’s no way she can’t feel his length brush against her legs.

He doesn’t want to stop, or run away, because he’s ridiculously turned on at this point, and unwilling to let go of her, so he simply turns her around and pins her beneath him, taking advantage of the way she squeals, to slip his tongue into her mouth and taste her.

It’s so tempting having her beneath him like this, so he gives in and slips his leg between hers again, eager to have her rub against him like she did that day, with the faintest hint of a moan, like he hasn’t been able to forget.

His fingers entwine with hers and he stretches them above her head, wanting so much to just kiss her senseless, but they collide with a cardboard box and he spares a glance at it, in annoyance.

Until he squints and actually sees what it is. The label alone makes him blush, not to mention the contents that he could clearly see under the transparent plastic covering.

Mikasa looks up, dazed and a little bit disoriented from what was possibly the most intense make out session she had ever experienced. “... Eren?”

“Babe,” he rasps, choked, “... are you trying to tell me something?”

She follows his line of sight, and wants to hide, wants to die, wants to erase this moment from her very existence.

Her Sensual Pleasure kit, he reads, his mind effectively going numb as he comprehends the contents: a vibrator, a blindfold, some pink fuzzy handcuffs and what looks like a generous bottle of lube.

Somehow even though she forgot about this ridiculous thing, having stuffed it into her closet to forget all about the ridiculousness on her friend’s face when she gave it to her, it seems to have stumbled out into the light of day at the worst possible moment.

If she could murder Sasha and get away with it, she would.

“... I-It’s not what you think, Eren,” she mumbles, cheeks red and panicking, even though she has absolutely no idea what she wants him to think.

“I assure you,” he manages, “... I’m not really thinking right now, Mikasa.” Sure enough his mind had somewhat short circuited, barely able to handle the pressure of having his extremely sexy girlfriend beneath him and somehow simultaneously having discovered what appeared to be her sextoys .

Gingerly, he reaches for it, and he almost gasps, because the box had been opened and fiddled with. “Did you actually…”

He looks at her face, and it’s the colour of a tomato by this point, teeth biting her lower lip nervously, and he doesn’t know whether to laugh or if he is even more turned on.

“The vibrator, Mikasa, did you…?” His voice is so hoarse just imagining, it superseded any fantasies he’s had up until this point. “... Eren,” she whines, embarrassed, hiding her face in her hands.

“Please for the love of god, Mikasa, please just tell me, baby,” he’s pleading because he really needs to know at this point. He needs to know if he’s been going to bed in the room besides her without the potent knowledge that she’s been using this to relieve herself at night.

When she nods, just ever so imperceptibly, he’s pretty sure he’s going to combust. “... What did you think of when you were using it?” His voice sounds like a stranger’s.

She looks conflicted, looks unbelievably embarrassed, but he’s pretty sure he isn’t imagining it when he hears the faintest whisper from her saying, “... you.”

But that isn’t going to cut it, because he’s spent countless nights with a raging boner and raging guilt, as he jerked off to the most tantalizing moments he’s had with her… and he barely ever manages to look her in the eye the next morning. So he has to, no, he needs to know that he hasn’t been the only one in this absolutely ridiculous situation.

He kisses her hard, teeth grazing hers, mouth eager and greedy, and she responds to him with equal fervour. His head drops to her shoulder as he kisses her bare collarbone. “... If you knew how many times I’ve touched myself thinking of you, you wouldn’t be able to look at me the same again.”

His words are a deep, throaty confession that he whispers on her skin, and it brings a tingle down to her spine and all the way to her toes. She thrusts her chest upwards against him subconsciously.

“... I think of you too, you know… all the time,” she confesses, forgetting the very meaning of inhibition. It’s hard to remember it when he looks at her that way, heat burning from his verdant eyes, his grip firm against her hips. She doesn’t want to; doesn’t need it, if it means she can be this close to him.

“... Do you think you can show me?” he whispers, barely thinking through his requests through his lust-filled haze.

He sees her hesitating, contemplating, and he finds himself praying as his fingers inch up the dress and dig into the curves of her ass, lips delicate against the tops of her breasts.

“Only if you show me how you touch yourself,” she murmurs, and he can feel himself twitch in excitement.

She backs up against her bedpost and slips out of her panties, and Eren is absolutely, positively certain, he has never seen anything more appealing than when she slowly, deliberately, hikes up that beautiful green dress and spreads her legs.

He’s so lost in the sight before him, he forgets what he’s promised until she says, steel eyes determined, challenging him almost, “... your turn, Eren.”

He shucks his pants off gracelessly, he couldn’t make it look as artful as she does even if he tried, but he’s happy to be free of the restrictive material as he springs heavy and erect at the sight of her. “... Could you um, pass me the lube,” he asks, and she does, but not before squeezing some onto her own hand.

It’s hypnotic how she rubs it into herself, wet, and pretty and pink, and he jerks into his hand, slick and wanting, as he whispers, “... God, you’re beautiful.”

His words only serve to enhance the needy pressure between her legs, the tingling feeling that her slow circular motions were only making worse. She picks up the vibrator and turns it on, pressing it to her nub, the way she’s done a few lonely nights by herself, wishing it was him against her skin.

It’s different this time, because even though it’s her and the silicone toy, Eren’s gaze is like liquid fire on her skin, dark and licentious, and almost greedy. She throws her head back, shivering with pleasure and gasping.

“... What did you think of when you played with yourself?” He asks again, and this time she knows he wants a more specific answer.

“Your fingers,” she mumbles, and she finds the pleasure makes her startlingly more honest. He could ask anything of her, and she would tell him.

The idea, the thought of it, makes him twitch happily in his hand, and he jerks erratically, feeling an unbelievable urge come over him. “... Did you get wet thinking of my fingers on you, Mikasa?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nods, blushing prettily, high off the vibrating sensations. Without planning to, he crawls over between her legs and kisses her deeply, murmuring on her lips, “... then let me touch you, baby.”

It was her who was being stimulated, but he nearly groans into her hair at the feeling of her soft wetness, the way it feels against his fingers, the way her arousal coats him so eagerly.

“... I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” he murmurs hoarsely, rubbing delicate circles across her nub, diligently favouring the area she had favoured mere moments ago. “Then why didn’t you,” she gasps at the last syllable, at the sudden intrusion of his long finger having slid deep inside her.

“... Sorry,” he says, sounding far too turned on to be sorry, “... you’re so wet, Mikasa.” He’s in awe, almost reverent of how warm she is, how easy.

She hangs on to his neck now, teeth grazing his neck, whispering, “... I want you, Eren.” Her breath is warm and damp and he’s unmistakably certain of what she asks.

“... Are you sure?” He asks, panting, hoping to god she’s sure, because he’s so ready, he’s been ready for a long time now, and he can barely control himself from leaking onto his own hand, when she says, “Yes.”

He makes sure she’s comfortable, or as comfortable as she can be on top of her clothes, and he commits everything to memory, the way she looks beneath him, the way her breasts heave when he pulls off the entirety of that dress, the way her nipples stiffen against his warm kisses. “... Please,” she whimpers, when he takes his time with her, taking the peaks of her breasts into her mouth and teasing ever so slightly with his teeth.

“... I can’t help it,” he rasps, “I want to touch you everywhere, you’re so pretty, babe, I,” -

He chokes, cut off, by the feeling of her delicate hands circling around him, pumping slowly as she guides him to her entrance. “Shit, Mikasa,” he curses, closing his eyes as he feels the sensation of her warmth against his tip.

It’s not his first time, but he feels like a stumbling virgin, murmuring desperate things as he feels her sheathe him completely, pausing only to pay attention to her comfort. Barely coherent, he asks, “... you okay?” She nods quietly, and his eyebrows furrow, looking at her questioningly. “Feels… so full,” she manages, with a feeble groan, and he can’t help but grin at how irresistible she is.

“... That’s because I’m supposed to fill you up, babe,” he whispers, not caring how far gone he is, because he slides out just a little only to spread her legs for him again, and slide back in. He tests the rhythm carefully, watching her expressions for any sign of discomfort, but the way she squeezes her eyes, the way she throws her head back with a gasp, just makes him lose whatever little control he had.

“Please tell me if I need to go slower,” he tells her, but judging from her reaction, from her moans, she only seemed to be egging him on.

It’s too much, he thinks, too much for him to possibly handle, not with the way she bucks her hips, and definitely not with the way she clenches needily around him.

And in a moment that he’ll probably never live down, he groans, “Fuck, babe, I’m going to,” - barely realizing with some consciousness to pull out of her tight, wet, core, and spills onto her stomach.

Mikasa’s never seen him make a face like that.

When he opens his eyes, she’s looking at him in wonder. And he’s looking at the mess he’s made on her stomach, and even though a small part of him only feels arousal at the sight of that, today he just feels like a massive asshole. “Shit,” he curses, not happy with how this played out at all. He reaches for the panties she’d so easily discarded and mops up his sticky release, mumbling, “... God, I’m so sorry, Mikasa. This was your first time, I can’t even believe,” -

“Eren,” she interrupts, because she doesn’t have time for this, his self-derision can come later. “... I, um…,” she clenches her thighs together, and he suddenly realizes that he hadn’t yet completely fucked shit up, he could still make her feel good, and that’s all he wanted.

He settles himself between her legs and spreads her folds open for him, feeling a familiar twitch at the pretty sigh in front of him. “I’ll take care of you, baby,” he whispers earnestly, before she feels his mouth on her folds. He kisses her like how he kisses her lips, like he wants to consume her, and if she thought it felt good against her own mouth, it felt only a million times better down there. He’s generous with his tongue, probing circling, sending her into a frenzy that only he could have managed.

She threads her fingers into his hair, gasping his name, prettily, holding on to him as she rides wave after wave of pleasure against his tongue.

When he lifts himself up and looks at her, he grins, his mouth shining because of her juices, and she closes her eyes swearing to herself that she will never forget that sight.

He collapses next to her, this time of a happier countenance because somewhere in his mind he’s judged this to be a fair exchange, and because Mikasa knows him so well, she can’t help but giggle.

“I’m not usually like this,” he asserts, once he’s caught his breath, and she’s barely managed to catch hers. She raises an eyebrow at him, amused. Trust Eren to be bothered about the unnecessary mechanics of his ego, barely minutes after their first time. “... I swear, next time I’m not going to let you go unless you have at least three orgasms. Minimum.”

“I guess I’ll have to hold you to it, Eren,” she murmurs, chuckling. “And before you freak out about the other thing; I’m on birth control, so don’t worry.” There’s silence, remarkably guilty silence, because he hadn’t thought about it, and that’s ridiculous because he’d never done it without a condom before, and if he ever feels like the biggest idiot on the planet, it’s at this moment.

“... I fucking love you, Mikasa,” he says sincerely, thanking the gods and this insane goddess right beside him, and this time she can’t help but laugh out loud.

a/n: edit: two whole weeks after posting ao3, i finally got around to putting this on tumblr.

to all those who have been on this journey with me, thank you so much. it's been so fun with these guys in the hsy verse.

i can't believe the story is over; i'm not ready to let go. going forward i may or may not right 3 more chapters each focusing on armin, historia, and jean respectively. i'm still mulling over it :)

i've recently been made aware that some people who read my stories are minors and i should be more mindful. so the note below -

i'd just like to clarify that it's fairly normal to be 18 yo in senior year of high school (at least where i'm from), which is when this last chapter takes place, so i did not feel the need to write age anywhere. i just want to clarify this; im no one to lecture any body on the appropriate age to be sexually active - as long as the person who you're with treats you respectfully and honours your consent. and respect your own limits and body.

HOWEVER I WILL ABSOLUTELY TAKE THIS MOMENT TO LECTURE YOU ON THE USE OF BIRTH CONTROL - PLEASE USE CONDOMS. please discuss birth control or std prevention with a sexual partner. DO NOT BE LIKE EREN AND FORGET JEEZUS. i'm 27 when i'm writing this so the last scene was just meant to be funny, especially his unbelievable sigh of relief when he finds out she had the foresight to be careful.

anyway, see ya and if it might interest you pls check out my mikasa stripper au ;) i'm very excited about it.

#eremika #liquorisce fanfiction #eremika smut #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #high school years

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thexanwillshine · 3 years

Text

internal travesties | levihan

pairing: levi x hange ; minor: eren x mikasa

genre: romance/ fluff / slight angst

warnings: contains spoilers for chapters 105, 115. and 132

chapters: 1. 2. 3 (final).

words: 4,648

summary:

Levi felt his eye twitch in annoyance. She didn't look particularly special, but she entered (no, infiltrated) his cafe with bright eyes and all smiles, making him feel things that he never even felt before. Which was, in his opinion, completely unacceptable. Levi Ackerman hated feeling out of control.

[Reincarnation! AU] [Levihan] [Minor Eremika]

crosspostings: AO3.

note: i hope you guys enjoy ehehe <3 thank u for reading and i hope to see u all again very soon.

His memories feel like a travesty.

Ever since he was young, Levi couldn’t help but feel as if there was something missing in his life.

His brushes with insomnia gave him headaches no painkiller could cure. It was on those days that Levi’s mind went wild and his thoughts plagued him, ridding him of the sweet drug called sleep. Lonely nights like that made the man feel tired, as his brain was constantly exhausting itself in its search for answers he didn’t even know the questions to.

On this particular cold night, he gives in to need, and chooses to contemplate his life.

Levi could say that he had a fairly normal childhood. Even with his sweet darling of a mother, an invisible father, and his gloomy, sort-of sister, it had been rather uneventful. Technically, Mikasa was his cousin, but since they had grown up together she might as well have been his younger sister. Mikasa’s mother (his aunt) had asked if Mikasa could stay with his family when she turned ten so that the young girl could get a good school in the city. His mother, saint that she was, obviously agreed.

He could remember a time when the young girl would always drag him to supervise her and her friends (all of whom were taller than Levi now, much to his chagrin) to pacify the concerns of Levi’s mother. As Mikasa matured, the young girl stopped making him constantly accompany her, since his mother trusted Mikasa enough to take care of herself at this point. In fact, Levi thought she would probably go out of her way just to get him not to come. Except when he would drive her. That darned girl thinks that he’s her own personal chauffeur.

While the two had their grievances, they maintained an understanding between them. Levi inherited his mother’s cafe called The Underground, and Mikasa went on to continue her parents’ legacy in the field of biology, choosing to major in botany like her mother. Sometimes, whenever Mikasa didn’t have midterms or finals or any exam that could potentially ruin her future, he would allow her to help out in the cafe once in a while. That way, she could technically say that she had experience working. It also gave Levi a good excuse to have extra hands. For Mikasa, it was a good way to earn money even though she didn’t really need to; Levi would give her cash whenever she would ask.

Contrary to popular belief, Levi did have friends. There was Eld, the assistant manager he knew he could rely on because of his leadership skills. Oruo, who worked better as a cashier because of his case of Constant Threat of Tongue-Biting Which Could Lead To Bleeding . As much as possible, Levi wanted to keep him away from food. Gunther, who’s speed in the kitchen was god-tier. Then there was Petra, a young, budding barista whose skills were definitely commendable.

Granted, all his friends were people who worked for him in the restaurant. There were several kids who worked for him part-time but they were more his responsibility rather than friends. Most of them were Mikasa’s friends, so at least there was someone accountable for them. Although, he had to admit they were very reliable.

There’s also that one lawyer who had taken it upon himself to consistently come every morning to the cafe. He said his name was Erwin, and Levi would be lying if he told himself he wasn’t weirded out by the man. The blonde had stared him down on several occasions, as if waiting for him to say something. Once, when Levi couldn’t take it anymore, he asked him directly.

“Any particular reason why you’re always staring openly at me?” Levi had asked rudely, scrunching his eyebrows at the man in confusion.

Erwin shook his head in response before introducing himself, even handing the coffee owner a business card. Levi stared at the business card, wondering why in the world he would need a lawyer (god forbid he ever needs one, he’d rather not go to court over anything, really). Erwin Smith, the card had read. “You’ll see me here often since my father works close by.”

After that, Erwin had frequented the cafe and even made friends with his employees. Petra says he tips very generously. Oruo thinks Erwin can do better. Levi doesn’t necessarily give a flying fuck, but he can’t help but feel as if he’d met or at least seen Erwin somewhere before.

Levi goes on with his somewhat boring life. Once in a while, whenever he was feeling particularly sociable, he would agree to a cup of tea with Erwin and engage in random conversations about his job and his life. The man was not a pain to talk to. In fact, the entire time they talked, Levi was nagged by a certain familiarity he couldn’t quite place. He felt as if he knew the blond on a much deeper level than he was aware of. He shrugs it off.

Sometimes, Levi would accompany his friends for drinks (but would never drink any, he hated the taste of alcohol with a passion). Apart from his sudden bouts of social energy, the man thought his life to be ritualistic, monotone, and organized. He wasn’t complaining, of course; this is exactly what Levi wanted. Sometimes, however, whenever he would be driving home alone with the silence nagging his ears . . . Levi would feel an emptiness emerging from the back of his mind, clouding his thoughts until dawn.

His mind flew back to Erwin as he remembered the lawyer asking him a question in passing on a particularly slow work day. He had been clearing the table beside the blond when Erwin spoke. “Don’t you ever feel as if all your life, you’ve been waiting for something to happen? Like all these good things come to you but nothing really ever feels enough?”

Levi had glared at him, because yes , he definitely has . That every waking moment of his life he could never feel truly satisfied . He chose to maintain his silence.

To Erwin’s credit, he dropped the subject and smiled softly, as if he could sense Levi’s discomfort. “Sorry,” Erwin said, chuckling. The man waved a wad of papers in his hand. “This case has been particularly mind-provoking, so I’ve been randomly spouting out philosophical questions to anyone who would be willing to listen.”

“Good luck,” Levi replied shortly, taking the tray of empty cups in his hands and walking towards the staff room.

Many a time, Levi had wondered how much of him was an open book. He liked to think that he was a pretty closed-off, ambiguous kind of guy. But Erwin had pretty much hit the mark—Levi had indeed settled, but he wasn’t sure if he was satisfied.

Unfortunately, Erwin wasn’t the only blond who spouted weird questions out of the blue.

Levi had known Armin Arlert since he was a young boy. He remembers glaring at bullies who would tease and mock the poor child, before taking Mikasa and her rowdy group of troublemakers to another playground. Levi knew Mikasa was a reserved child, but it seemed as if her maternal instincts kicked in whenever she could sense Armin was in danger. While the young girl’s other friends were strong enough to defend themselves from the bullies whenever they were the target, Mikasa had long established that people shouldn’t even dare cross her (or her even scarier big “brother”).

When Armin turned fifteen, his gait changed. Gone was the boy who would whimper as quiet as possible whenever he felt threatened. He still maintained his love for reading, but Armin suddenly adopted a mature mindset that seemed as if he possessed knowledge well-beyond his years. For a time, Mikasa would express her worry for the teenager in her and Levi’s rare conversations. Apparently, Armin had cried and launched himself on both Mikasa and Eren, holding them close to him as if the three of them had spent years apart from each other . . . when in fact, it was the middle of the day.

Levi was no stranger to Armin’s inquisitive questions about topics the dark-haired man knew nothing of (and didn’t bother to care about). Hence, he thought that the young blond’s strange inquiries couldn’t get any stranger.

Obviously, Levi was wrong.

“Levi, do you ever feel as if this life was a second chance? Like, as if right now, you’re you, but not really. Like, there was once a past you, who was different from you now, but the you now is still you. So reincarnation, basically. Or maybe we’re in a different dimension and there are others out there who’re living a different life from us. That I’m just one Armin out of multiple Armins in the universe.” Armin’s questions and speculations came in rapid-fire as he leaned on the counter. “What do you think?”

“I think you need to stop reading science fiction ‘cos it messes with your brain,” Levi responded as he finished counting the coins in the cash register. “Unlike you, I don’t bother with the intricacies of life, brat.” Armin’s inquisitive expression fell into one of dismay as he frowned.

Levi sighed inwardly as he closed the cash register. “I think the idea of reincarnation makes more sense compared to multiple universes though.”

Armin immediately brightened up when he looked at Levi, before diverting his gaze at Mikasa in what seemed like triumph. “I told you so!” he chirped gleefully. Thanks Levi.”

Mikasa didn’t reply, but her scalding glare told Levi everything she wanted to say: ‘Don’t encourage him!’ Levi rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen, shutting out Eren’s excited questions (“Do you really think we had past lives? Do you think I was cool? Oh my god, what if I was a knight! Or a dinosaur? Or a giant hu—”) effectively by closing the door.

Levi did give Armin’s questions some thought. There were indeed days wherein he felt out of place in his own skin, like he was living a life meant for someone else. There were also days when he would feel as if he was grasping at threads, trying to figure out what in his life wasn’t in place. However, the concept of reincarnation was something that seemed implausible to him especially because he didn’t believe in the divine.

The dark-haired man closed his eyes, placing his arm on his forehead as he shifted underneath the covers. The clock read 15:06, which meant that he had already been awake for a grand total of 23 hours. At four in the morning, he would need to take over the night shift, which Eld was currently in charge of.

Once again, he is faced with a dilemma: (1) try to get some sleep so that he can get a bit of rest and risk giving Eld overtime, or (2) suck it up and accept the fact that this day was going to be another one of his 48-hour days.

The answer was obvious. Levi was not the type of person to let others suffer for his mistakes. So he grit his teeth, pushed himself out of bed, and headed to his bathroom to take a hot shower.

He really needs to get some rest.

When Levi exited the bathroom thirty minutes later, dressed and ready for work, someone was knocking on his door. Levi scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. It was nearly four in the morning. With his mother in Sina for a conference and Mikasa due to wake at six in the morning, there should be no one in the house to bother him at the ungodly hour.

He opened the door and was proven wrong when his sight was greeted by Mikasa. She had puffy eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, and shivering lips. The poor girl held her black scarf close to herself as if it would help ease whatever pain she was feeling. Levi blinked at the sight, unsure of what to say. He tried anyway.

“What’s wrong, brat? Mosquito get stuck in your ear again?” Mikasa shook her head . Levi sighed as he noted that she didn’t give him her traditional glare. “Need to talk about it?”

She opened her mouth and closed it again in response. She does this thrice before Levi interrupts her.

“ Oi, fishface, is it a yes or a no?”

Mikasa shook her head a second time.

“Well, brat, how do you expect me to help you?” Levi pushed his door open and let his cousin in. Mikasa entered clumsily (different from her usual composed self, he noted) and sat at the edge of his bed.

Levi glanced at his glowing clock before choosing to text Eld. He’s going to be late and Eld would have to work overtime. Levi wasn’t entirely sure if he’d make it to the cafe by four (even though it was just a five minute drive) given the status of his crying sister.

Mikasa rarely cried, and even if she did, she wouldn’t go to him of all people. She’d most likely sneak out to go visit Eren or Armin, which is nothing the young girl hadn’t done before. So, Levi decided, just for today, he would ask Eld for this one favor in order to offer his own personal brand of comfort to his cousin and exist with her as she lamented (not like he can say much to comfort her, anyway).

He successfully got a reply from Eld, who had agreed to cover the overtime. The assistant manager relayed a bit of concern from Petra, who mentioned that it was very “unlike boss” to show up to work late. Levi was about to send a message informing the two of his personal matters when Mikasa spoke up.

“You don’t . . . remember anything, do you Captain?”

“Hah?” Levi asked, half his focus on his phone as he tapped the send button. “Remember what?”

Mikasa glared at the floor as if begging it to swallow her whole. She wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt, and buried half of her face behind the dark scarf she was sporting. Offhandedly, Levi wondered when was the last time she washed that thing. He should probably remind Mikasa after her breakdown.

“Armin wasn’t lying, you know.”

Confused as ever, he raised an eyebrow. Is she going through a phase? Levi wondered, his mouth set in a grim line. “About what?”

She spoke to the floor and not really at him. “About the past. The past lives, I mean. Reincarnation, and all that.”

If Levi had been confused before, he was even more confused now.

“I can’t talk to you about it,” Mikasa continued, holding her arms closer to her. “No matter how much I try, the words don’t—no, won’t come out.” She let out a sigh, before looking up at Levi, who was already feeling kind of guilty as he wasn’t able to give her much help.

“Then don’t force yourself to talk if it’s hard for you to, you can just go over it next time,” Levi offered, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing at the clock. I really am bad at this , he thought.

Mikasa shook her head for the third time that night. “It’s much harder than you think.” She paused and straightened up, inhaling sharply through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. “It seems it doesn’t work like that. I need to talk to Armin. Can you drive me?”

Levi had no idea what in the world it was and why it doesn’t work like that . Given the complexity of the situation—mostly due to the fact that he was complete shit at giving her help, advice, or anything she needed emotionally, really—he made no attempts to complain about her request to chauffeur her.

The young girl asked him nicely after all . Maybe she really wasn’t feeling well.

He nodded. “Don’t you want to get dressed first? You look like a mess.” He scrunched his nose at her scarf, “Also, when’s the last time you washed that thing? That might be really dir—”

Levi didn’t get to finish the rest of his sentence because Mikasa had thrown the scarf straight up to his face. His eye twitched in annoyance as he plucked the scarf out of his head. He shoved it in Mikasa’s hands. She was lucky the scarf didn’t smell bad, otherwise he would’ve definitely confiscated it and thrown it in the washing machine. “Damn it, brat, learn how to wash your clothes. I’m telling mom.”

“Blabbermouth, squealer, mama’s boy, ” Mikasa retorted, standing up.

Levi rolled his eyes before grabbing his keys from his bedside table and turning off his lamp. Mikasa had already stepped outside, her black scarf wrapped around her neck. Levi closed his door when he exited, moving in step with the younger woman. She was already calling Armin, and Levi knew that the blond would be ready to accept company when he heard Armin’s sleepy voice respond from the other line. Levi didn’t bother listening, and instead chose to open the car door and wait inside the vehicle (a black four-seater that his invisible father had left him) as Mikasa conversed with Armin.

She entered after about ten minutes, slamming the car door shut. Levi pulled out of their driveway smoothly.

“Drop by the cafe if you and Armin need to eat,” Levi said shortly as Mikasa put on her seatbelt.

“Is it on the house?”

“Of course, I’ll dock it from your pay.”

“Some definition of ‘on the house' you have.”

The ride takes about twenty minutes without traffic, since Armin lived a bit further away. The two Ackermans sat without conversing, both of them listening to the soft sound of music from the radio.

It’s Levi who broke the silence. “Oi, brat, this isn’t necessarily my business, but shouldn’t you also be calling your other snot-nosed friend?”

The reply came quicker than he had anticipated. “No.”

She doesn’t elaborate, so Levi left it at that. Perhaps, he thought, they fought, and that's why the dark-haired woman was acting weird. Either way, he knew it was none of his business.

They arrive at Armin’s house at about five minutes ‘till five in the morning. Mikasa opened the door, muttering a sincere “thank you” as she left. She closed the door behind her softly, enough to lock it but not loud enough to wake the neighbors. Mikasa gave her older cousin a brief wave and turned around swiftly to Armin’s doorstep before he could even nod in acknowledgement.

At least he wasn’t the only Ackerman who was bad at showing emotions.

Armin waves enthusiastically from the doorway, and Levi (unenthusiastically) raises his hand in reply. He then pulled back from the driveway and headed to his cafe.

The drive towards The Underground is short and uneventful. He had already texted Eld in advance that he would be arriving. He brought his car into the parking lot and headed to his designated parking spot, beside the PWD parking near the entrance. To his surprise, there was a car already in his spot. It was a blue pick-up truck that looked worse for wear.

Levi’s eye twitched in mild annoyance.

He knew he couldn’t do anything about it since there was no sign that that specific spot was for him (he really, really should do that). Since dawn was normally for students cramming their papers, all of whom didn’t need cars since the university was just walking distance from the cafe, Levi had assumed he wouldn’t need the sign anymore. Clearly, he was wrong.

Levi sighed before deciding to park two spots beside the pick-up truck.

Upon entering the cafe, he noticed that there were only about three customers. One was a regular: a blonde girl whose drinks were surrounded by a pile of papers. Her highlighting was careless and panicky. Beside her sat an auburn-haired girl, who was the second customer. Compared to the blonde, she was already lost in sleep.

The third customer was someone he never really encountered in his shop before. From where he entered, Levi could see that she was wearing a thick pair of glasses, and that her hands were shoved in a tan coat. She was incredibly tall, and sported dark boots and leggings. The woman was currently standing in front of the counter, her eyes focused on the menu splayed out on the bright screens above the coffee machines.

Levi passed her without giving it much thought, swiftly entering the staff room. Eld grinned at him when he entered, removing his apron and placing it on the rack. “Good morning boss,” he greeted, as Levi grabbed his own apron and swung it over his head.

“There’s a customer outside,” Levi said nonchalantly.

Eld nodded in recognition. “Yeah, she comes here every three a.m. on the dot. Leaves before you arrive, so I understand why you’re not familiar with her. Don’t worry though, she looks like she’s thinking now, but she’s going to order the same thing. Make sure to get her a large, sweet cream cold brew nitro.”

Levi nodded as Eld checked out, bidding him goodbye. Levi dumped his car keys in his locker before he heard the bell ring from outside. That tall girl was probably ready to order her americano.

He exited the door, standing in front of her and checking to see if Eld properly set the cashier for his shift. Levi nodded to himself in approval, as Eld had done his job spectacularly (as always). In about an hour, Jean Kirchstein and Marco Bott would be taking over the cashier while he cleaned the store. He barely glanced at the customer as he mechanically tapped his fingers rhythmically on the register, letting out the practiced “May I take your order?”

“Good morning! Could I please have a large sweet cream cold brew nitro? To-go, please!”

Something about her voice made Levi’s blood run cold. He raised his head to look at her. She was smiling at him, her eyes shining with excitement. Her bangs are parted in the middle of her forehead and the rest of her hair is tied in a lazy half-bun. By the greasy state of her auburn hair, it looked like she hadn’t bothered bathing.

For a reason Levi couldn’t explain (he would later argue that it was because he was so surprised to see that someone could live their life while having hair so dirty ), his body grew stiff as he stared at her, transfixed.

The girl tilted her head to the side in confusion. “Is something wrong?” she asked, looking at him. “Is my order not available? That’s okay, you know, I can just order something else—”

Levi interrupted her tirade as he regained control over his body once again, swallowing the odd feeling gnawing at his gut. “Name?” he managed to choke out, trying his best to appear calm. For some strange reason, his heart decided that now was the time for palpitations.

“Oh!” the girl said in surprise, “right, I haven’t seen you here at this hour before! Just put in Hange!”

His hands moved automatically to input her order. There really is something so . . . familiar about her, but Levi just couldn’t seem to put his finger on it. It reminded him of when he had first met Erwin. He felt like he had seen her from a dream long forgotten in the recesses of his mind, begging to be released and remembered.

There’s just one problem: he knows he’s never seen this girl in his life before. After all, someone who never washed their hair would make a very distinct impression on him.

“That’ll be four dollars,” Levi said through grit teeth, annoyed at himself for failing to maintain his own composure. Hange nodded fervently as she placed her five dollar bill on the counter.

“Keep the change!” she declared enthusiastically, before peering at him in concern. “You’re okay, right?” Hange asked. “Sorry, early mornings really aren’t for everyone, huh?”

He remained silent, placing the bill inside the cash register and shutting it close. Levi didn’t bother answering her question as he allowed his mind to get lost in thought. He continued the patterns of service he had long since memorized, his body on autopilot.

Levi was always in control of his mind, his body, his spirit . . . so why? There were a million questions racing through his head. ‘ Who the fuck is this girl? Damn, my heart feels like it’s going to pop out of my chest. This isn’t normal.’

He stole a glance at her lanky form, hoping that she wasn’t at the counter anymore and had taken a seat somewhere in the cafe. To his disappointment, she was still standing there, watching him make the drink. When she saw him look at her, she gave him a tiny wave.

Levi felt his eye twitch in annoyance. She didn’t look particularly special, but she entered (no, infiltrated) his cafe with bright eyes and all smiles, making him feel things that he never even felt before.

Which was, in his opinion, completely unacceptable. Levi Ackerman hated feeling out of control.

He poured the drink into a tall cup expertly before placing it on top of the counter. “Hange,” he called, her name escaping his lips smoothly, as if he had said the syllables a million times before.

Levi frowned, sensing the beginnings of a migraine in the middle of his eyebrows, so he pinches the area gently, as if the action could relieve some of the pain.

Hange walked over to the counter, looking a bit concerned. “Hey, Levi,” she started, and the man visibly flinched. Why did the sound of his name from her voice trigger a barrage of emotions he’s never even bothered to feel before?

Levi dug his nails into the palms of his hands. He was almost about to ask ‘how the fuck do you know me’ and ‘do I fucking know you’ before the rational part of his brain interjected that she had probably seen his name tag.

His silence gave Hange permission to speak again, so she continued. “Do you have a headache?” Without waiting for him to respond, she smiled. “I got just the thing! I’ll leave you this gift as my thanks for your service!” And with those words, she placed a painkiller on the counter as she gently took her drink. “Take it so you can have a good morning, okay?

Levi watched her actions cautiously.

She winked. “Oh, and don’t take it with tea.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at this point. The words Do I know you? burst in his mind and died at the edges of his lips. Instead, he muttered a clipped “thank you” to her small token of appreciation.

She grinned. “Take care, Levi!”

And with those words, she left, leaving Levi to wonder out loud, “what the fuck just happened?”

The body remembers what the mind has forgotten.

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