#but i hope i can start drawing again next week bc i have so many ideas for oc’s illustrations and comics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

author-morgan · 10 months

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i see your requests are open!! can you do something sweet with Harald? (and Halfdan if you’re comfortable with polyamory!)

Of courseeeee. Here is some Harald fluff (with a pinch of bittersweetness and angst). I was going to have this be polyamorous (bc those two come as a pair more often than naught in my fics lbr lol), but once I got started it just turned into something more Harald-centric. Hope you don't mind! (I went a little overboard for him again) Harald Finehair x fem!Reader

HALFDAN THE BLACK is the first to enter Tamdrup’s great hall upon returning from a successful raiding season. The doors swing open wide, and those gathered for the tribunal part, making way for the victorious. Rising from the seat of power, you go to him with open arms, smiling. “I see you brought my husband back,” you muse, watching Harald enter the hall at last, surrounded by a score of rowdy warriors and overjoyed denizens—rightfully so, they have returned with riches and have lost fewer than a dozen warriors during the raids.

“I fear what you would do if I didn’t,” Halfdan laughs, tossing down a heavy coin purse on the table before taking you into his arms.

“It is always good to see you again,” you smile, kissing your marriage-brother’s cheek. He is inclined to agree. After long days at sea and many weeks away, it is good to be greeted by a fair and familiar face such as yours. Halfdan clasps your shoulder as he steps around you, pouring himself a cup of mead—leaving you to his brother. “Harald,” you greet, and the hall falls silent as he approaches you.

His breath catches as he beholds you, standing before him regal as ever with a gifted silver circlet resting upon your brow. His wife. His queen. His heart. It is as though the rest of the world falls away when he stops before you, rough hands cradling your face with the gentlest of touches. “By all the gods” —he strokes his thumbs over your cheeks— “you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

Harald’s kiss is slow and soft—save for the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheek and jaw—and speaks of the months of longing to return to your loving arms. You kiss him like you’ve done a thousand times before, falling into the rhythm as though you never parted. Your fingers comb through his beard as you part, foreheads resting together, but then your smile widens as you wrap your arms around him, holding him tight. “I’ve missed you,” you breathe. But now he’ll be yours again until the next raiding season comes.

THE WHEEL OF time does not slow, and the harvest season fades into winter and then to the first buds of spring. Nigh all the Vestfold gathered in Tamdrup tonight for the feast to celebrate sowing the first seeds of the new crop and seasoning the turned soil with sacred blood. But that is not the only reason the jarls and fighting men have come all this way. In the coming weeks, Harald, Halfdan, and anyone else willing to sail will make their way to Frankia to raid Paris with Ragnar Lothbrok. Festivities last long into the night, but Harald comes to you soon after you take leave.

He draws lines over the length of your spine as you lay with him, head pillowed on his chest, listening to the slow rhythmic beat of his heat, bare legs entwined, but then you twist in his arms and lean up to kiss him—featherlight and sweet as the mead still on his breath—fingertips following the blue-black scrollwork of his tattoos. Then he tilts his head back, letting you trace the curving lines on his neck and down to the ones on his chest—only your touch could ever make him tremble.

“Paris?” You repeat, following one of the silver scars on his ribs with your fingertips. He’s spoken of the city to the south and of Ragnar Lothbrok before, but with the night’s feast, it became official. Come the spring, he would prepare his ships and set sail to join the farmer-turned-king on his second venture to Frankia.

“Yes,” Harald says, his voice a low rasp. He sees it in your eyes, a flicker of hope that maybe this time you will sail with him and his brother—that you will be able to visit the distant lands so many speak of—but now is not the time for you to venture into the unknown. Your life is not something he can risk so easily and carelessly. Harald curls his hand around yours, then kisses the center of your palm and holds your hand close to his chest. “I need you here, my heart,” he tells you, but you already know that.

“I’ll plan a feast and a sacrifice before you and Halfdan depart,” you tell him—it is what any good queen and wife would do to see her husband and people return safe and with victory. And then he takes your lips and your breath, holding you close. You sigh into his mouth, letting his tongue brush yours, fingers slipping back into his unbound hair. His kiss is reverent, and you cannot help but miss the cracked softness of his lips against yours when he parts, but it is only so he can hold you in his arms.

TEN DAYS AFTER Harald Finehair first sets sail to Kattegat, his brother and the remainder of the fleet are ready to follow. The last of the barrels and crates are being rolled and loaded into the longships when you arrive on the docks to bid everyone farewell and good fortune on their journeys. Six hundred men and shieldmaidens from the Vestfold have gathered over the last two moons, all to leave on this day to join Ragnar Lothbrok in his endeavors—but Tamdrup will feel empty without their presence. Though, there is already a newfound hollowness in the wake of Harald’s departure.

You find Halfdan amongst the chaos, checking the yellow-red shields secured on the side of one of the ships. “Halfdan,” you call, and he turns on heel to face you with a half-bow—nigh teasing in nature, but you are, after all, his queen. Before he can stand upright, you reach out and rest your hands on his cheeks, and he bends a little farther, accepting the kiss you bestow upon his brow. “Be safe,” you tell him, hands moving to clasp his. “Look after your brother.”

Halfdan squeezes your hands. “You know I will,” he assures you. That is something you’ll never have to worry about—the bonds of blood and brotherhood run deep. You nod, and he steps back down into the longship. At your hest, they will set sail for glory and, if the gods deem it so, Valhalla.

One of your attendants hastens to the dock, stepping forward to present the gift commissioned from the blacksmith and jeweler—it's meant to be a surprise in celebration of another year of marriage, but alas, such care and detail took longer than expected. It’s a necklace of bronze and silver with a pendant shaped into the likeness of Mjölnir clasped in the mouths of two silver dragonheads on a chain of alternating links. “It was not finished before Harald left,” you explain, placing the necklace in Halfdan’s palm. “Give it to him, please.” Halfdan nods. “And all my love.”

RESOUNDING HORNS ANNOUNCE the return of Harald Finehair’s fleet in the dark hours of the evening. You rise from bed and make haste to the docks—handmaids following close behind with slippers and a cloak, but decorum is the least of your concerns. So few have returned, you think, counting the dwindling number of ships gathered compared to how many set off. The first wave departs one of the docked ships, and there is no air of triumph in those who press past you—eager to return to home and hearth and for solid ground beneath their feet. “Harald!” You call as he steps from the longship and onto the dock.

But he does not embrace you as he normally would after such a long voyage, and the spark in his stormy blue eyes is faded. It is only when you see who the men are carrying off the ship on a crude stretcher do you understand the cause of your husband’s sullen mood. “Halfdan,” you breathe, looking between him and Harald. You step to your marriage-brother and lift the pelt of fur covering his torso, grimacing—the wound at his shoulder is a festered, blackish mess, and the sweat on his brow in the first chill of winter speaks of the fever that’s set in during the return voyage.

You turn to one of your handmaids. “Call on Mjöll,” you instruct, “quickly.” The years have seen you clean and bind both Harald and Halfdan’s wounds, but this is far beyond your skill, and an herbalist will be needed to call Halfdan back from the cusp of the next life. The girl nods and sets off to the healer’s hut. Looking back at the stretcher-bearers, you point up the way to the great hall. “Take him to the great hall.” In such a state, Halfdan will need several pairs of watchful eyes.

Dark shadows cast from torchlight and iron braziers shroud Harald’s expression—he does not understand how it is you can stand with so much equanimity when faced with such loss. Harald steps to you, and his shoulders fall, then wordless, he slumps into your arms, resting his forehead on your shoulder—another weight you must bear—hands twisting into the fabric of your pale linen shift. You smooth your hand over his back, following the length of his braid-bound hair. “I thank the gods you have returned to me, my love,” you breathe, unwilling to let him part just yet.

Mjöll works to prepare a cataplasm of moss and herbs into the hours of the night, and you kneel at the prepared pallet of fur and pillows, placing a cool, damp rag upon Halfdan’s brow. There is little else you can do for your marriage brother besides trust the herbalist’s remedies, pray to the gods, and hope they are merciful. Mjöll nods for you to leave and tend to your husband. She and her apprentice will care for Halfdan.

He is pacing the length of the foot of the bed when you enter your shared chambers—hands flexing into fists at his side. You step into Harald’s path, hands going to the ties and buckles of his leathern armor. “If the High One truly sought Halfdan’s company,” you tell him, setting aside his vambraces before turning back, “he would already be feasting in the Halls of the Slain.”

To Harald, it is poor consolation but consolation all the same. And deep down, he knows you are right. Shrugging off his worn and stained tunic, he goes to the washbasin and splashes water on his face and chest, scrubbing away a mix of sweat and salt spray, and blood too. Harald returns to sit at your side on the bed—he stares ahead at the flickering flames of tallow candles. “What happened?” You finally dare ask.

“The magic of Ragnar Lothbrok failed,” he tells you. The lingering taste of defeat is bitter on his tongue—the gods had forsaken them on that river, had forsaken Ragnar. As it happened to be, he was just like any other man. “We were humiliated and pushed out of Frankia with nothing to show for it.” He does not remember the last time he returned to Tamdrup, to you, with nothing to show for his travels. It will take time for the Vestfold to recover from such a defeat.

You touch his cheek, fingers combing through his unkempt beard, drawing his gaze to you. “You live, as does your brother.” The rancor in his expression falters, his jaw unclenching, and he leans into you—his nose just barely bumping against yours. Yes, he and Halfdan escaped with their lives. That is more than can be said for many who embarked on the journey to Paris. Ragnar Lothbrok may have lost the favor of the gods, but they still smiled upon Harald and his brother. “That is enough for me,” you say, softly. He kisses you then, and you meld against him with a sigh and a slight smile that he can feel on your lips.

HE SITS ON his throne—slouched to the side and staring into the abyss, twisting his shark-tooth crown in his hands. Your king has returned, yet still, it is only you shouldering the weight of the kingdom. You stop at the dais and extend your hand toward him. “Walk with me.” It is not a request. Harald rises and follows.

The path through the forest is well-worn, both into the Earth and memory. It carves a winding route through the forest and up bare rock to a promontory overlooking Tamdrup and the mouth of the fjord—a place you frequent to look for sails on the horizon when the men are away, a place where Harald promised he would marry you one day what now feels like a lifetime ago.

But the morning fog has yet to lift from the land, just as the fog of bitterness in the aftermath of what happened in Paris has yet to lift from your husband and king. There has been no feast to honor the memory of those lost since his return several days ago and no promise or mention of what comes next for the Vestfold. It is as though he is lost in despair, mourning his brother already despite the day-by-day recovery—just yesterday, Halfdan’s fever broke.

You sit atop one of the boulders there on the promontory. There’s space enough for him to join you, but, for a moment, he lingers and stares. In the morning the light and mist, you seem like one of the winged women—ethereal. A sight that makes his heart twist and ache given the dark thoughts and mood which have taken hold of him since returning to Tamdrup.

Harald sits next to you and hangs his head, letting his hand rest on your thigh—a gentle weight and warmth. “I fear I have not been a good husband,” he confesses. It is never an easy thing for a prideful man to admit weakness and accept his faults, less so for a king. But the failed siege, his brother’s injury, and the long months spent away from you, from home, have been a heavy weight on his heart.

It does not feel right, leaving you time and time again, each longer than the last, to rule over his lands and care for his people—duties which are his. But you rule so fairly, and his people love you for it. “I have left you too often,” he breathes, a new softness and the tremble of guilt in his voice. “And I have left you to carry a burden meant to be shouldered by two backs” —his hand runs across your shoulders, down your spine— “not one.”

You never expected being wife to a king—being a queen—would be easy. Least of all, the wife of an ambitious man with dreams of uniting Norway under a single crown. Harald Finehair is vikingr. To deny him that would be to deny his true self, and even on the loneliest and coldest of nights, you could and would never ask him to be anything other than who he is—the man you love.

“I knew what was expected of me” —you card your fingers through his beard, the first tinges of silver beginning to appear, and he can find nothing but underserved doting affection in your soft gaze— “of you, when we married.” Harald covers your hand with his own, the rough pads of his fingers pressing into your palm as his hand curls around yours, a sigh on his lips. “And I happily said yes, remember?”

He remembers the day you married well—the crown of spring wildflowers you wore, the blood-tinged kiss after exchanging rings, the bridal race with Halfdan and your cousins tripping over one another to get to the mead hall first. It is still the happiest day of his life—tied with every other day the gods let him wake up beside you.

Shifting, you lean your forehead against his and gently slip your hand free from his. “You will always have my love and support, wherever you may be.” Harald closes his eyes and curls his hand around the back of your neck, thumb stroking the soft skin beneath your ear. And you press your hand against the center of his chest—feeling the outline of the Mjölnir necklace under your palm. “And I will be here or at your side,” you tell him, a soft whisper dancing over his lips, “wherever you need me to be.” And now he’s certain—you are too good to him.

[Harald-Halfdan taglist: @ahotmesswithprivilege / @alicedopey / @certifiedlittleshit / @charming-merlin / @elluvians / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gearhead66 / @gossamarnie / @hc-geralt-23 / @hereforreadandwrite / @moonlightsspirit / @morganamayne / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @n0sferatus / @naaladareia / @queenyalo / @rigshak / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx / @yalos-writing ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Murder Bro taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form! if I missed you, I am sorry! but make sure to mention it in the replies or fill out the linked Google Form!

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cripple-council · 1 year

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Hey! I love your blog dearly! 🫶

I am a cane user with pretty serious chronic leg pain, and will be starting physical therapy next week and was wondering if you have any experience with how it works / what it does / if it helps any ! I assume it would but I know little to nothing about it so if you have any knowledge on how those programs work id love to hear you discuss them!

I was also wondering if the cool art drawing thing you were doing was still happening bc 👉👈 that sounds very cool and im a pretty interested in that bc it sounds very awesome :]

hey!

i’ve been in physical therapy for a while, but took a break and recently started it again. i have no issues with my legs though so i can’t speak on that but one thing i can tell you: it’s gonna hurt, i am in no way discouraging you from doing PT, but it’s something not all physical therapists disclaim lmao. be prepared that it will hurt in the beginning, it’ll probably hurt more than usual, but it is usually worth it. in many cases it will hurt a lot and then after a while get better! for some people it doesn’t help, but it is absolutely worth trying! do your PT as instructed, if you get exercises to do at home, don’t do it more often than you’ve been told, because of you over so it, it will not feel great😅

for me, i have PT mainly for my lower back since it’s my biggest issue. when i first started PT i was in so much pain and was sore after every appointment, but i did notice some changes. i didn’t notice much difference in my daily pain but after a while i wasn’t sore after every appointment. my stamina also got better. i used to have two appointments per week but now i’m gonna do most work at home, which is a bit harder because my motivation is pretty low and my memory is bad lmao. but i am trying to get better at doing the exercises haha.

a big reason to do PT is to strengthen your body, because it can help with the pain. in my case, my back muscles re-learned how to work around my pain, meaning that my muscles aren’t working as they should. they started working in a way that is wrong, to avoid the pain and now my left side is working double time to make up for my right side not working at all. now i have a really hard time just doing my exercises because they require both sides to do the work, when one one side is willing to do the work😅

i hope this was some help!

and yeah, i’m still doing the art series, feel free to send reference pictures in DMs :]

#ask #ace-idiots

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meiozis · 8 months

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jdlakdlakfd peach!!! i missed you toooo ive been really inactive on here cause school just started and it was all a rush and NOW IM SICK…….. idk if its covid and i dont wanna find out i just want it to be over 🧎🏻‍♀️ but whenever im on here again i always scroll thru ur blog to make sure to catch up on what i’ve missed ….You are like the weekly newspaper to me .! if u ever get around to doing the fanart and u post it pleaaaase tag me id love to see!!

ur hyuckisms are truly so real to me i saw haechan and then i was like 😀☝️ i need to hear what peach thinks…. HSKAKDKSK but also re: halloween asks i think it wld be super neat if u did a game or smth !! id love to participate and send smth in hehe u know i am ur biggest fan i have a Go Peach!!! banner under my bed ….Trust .

cat!!! hi!!!! i've barely been on here too since school started so i feel you </33 but im so sorry about the sickness, i really hope u feel better soon and i hope u can have some tea and get some nice rest 🥺🫶 but pleeease you're literally way too sweet </3333 im really running the silliest goofiest little blog on here, the fact that you scroll through my little posts is soooo 🥹🥹🥹 it always makes me so happy to see u on my dash and in my notifs <3 and if i ever bring myself to draw outside of school i'll def tag you hehe

i had so many more thoughts abt hyuck ngl but i held myself back to not seem Too Insane vsjvfvdvf but really my brain is a windows screensaver on 100x speed whenever i see him lately, its getting out of hand fr........ 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻 i might end up doing a little writing ask game bc idk when i'll finish my long fic, and i miss writing sm so that would be a good compromise until then :') maybe i'll post smth abt it next week-ish???

#i get little hearts above my head when i see u on tumbler #u are literally such a positive force on here like what would my dash be without u.... what would be the point....#i hope u are feeling a little better now and hopefully school hasn't been too bad </3 #but also!! do u know what you're gonna be majoring in?#i always forget in the us you can make it up as you go so it might be a dummy question but still im always a curious little thing <3 #ask #mutuals #cat

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rhizomehaunt · 1 year

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eeee thanks @yellghoul ily ˙ᵕ˙

1. picrew game

my hair is getting dangerously mullet-ish in the back (but not in the good kind of way) as I'm growing it out but this is pretty close. I live in soft and oversized clothes and especially a big black hoodie my girlfriend got from working on the set of POWER BOOK II: GHOST.

2. shuffle my on repeat playlist and post the first 10 tracks

1/ Too Close, Sir Chloe

2/ Flowers (Demo), Miley Cyrus

3/ Tisched Off, Bartees Strange

4/ Freakin’ Out on the Interstate, Briston Maroney

5/ To be honest, Christine and the Queens

6/ la chute (piano), Jean-Michel Blais

7/ Rät, Penelope Scott

8/ A Place To Lie, Art School Girlfriend

9/ Younger & Dumber, Indigo De Souza

10/ After The Earthquake, Alvvays

Honestly not a terrible overview of my listening habits, but there's definitely more classical that didn't make the cut asjsfhsfj.

3. this questionnaire:

Tea, coffee, or soda?

Coffee, black, several cups a day.

Dogs or cats?

cats always and forever <3

Can you play any instrument?

I haven't played piano in years but am hoping to get a keyboard and start again! I'm shit at sight reading but used to be good at chords and playing by ear.

What's your sun sign?

gemini (chaos)

First song lyrics that pops into your head?

And you got a lot on your mind / And your heart, it looks just like mine / There's no use in wasting your time, anymore

Do you have any tattoos?

I have three and want many more. a tattoo of a drawing I did of the chair in my grandpa's studio on my wrist, an ambiguous flower and two hands clasped by it on my upper arm, and then a big warped text piece wrapped around my entire right thigh reading the sweeteness of you carrying yesterdays feelings to tomorrow beyond what i knew before

Favorite place you've travelled?

Paris, because I took myself there for three weeks as I was breaking up with a terrible ex, amid a complete collapse of everything, and it was the first time I left the country, first time in my entire life I wasn't scraping by, and I did it alone, on my own, and just read and walked the entire time. I became friends with the local orange seller by the apartment I stayed, got asked out at the Louvre by a chef from Argentina while I drew an old man who was drawing a painting who I later spoke to in broken French (and he clasped my hand and cheered me on), made a friend at a bookstore who was writing her masters thesis on the same author I wrote my undergrad thesis on and we ended up having lunch and she gave me some of her old books, and also started talking with another solo traveler from South Korea who's a brilliant artist and musician at Musée de l'Orangerie and we wandered around and then met up for lunch the next day and are still in touch.

What's the last movie you've watched?

The Muse

What languages do you speak?

English and some very poor French

Do you have any hobbies?

I suppose baking?? It’s hard to distinguish what’s a hobby and what’s routine. I don’t really think of anything I do as a hobby any more, but that’s probably bc I’m always trying to do a million things.

You can hang out with one fictional character for an hour, who do you choose?

Camilla Hect, beloved.

these are always so fun, i'm tagging @zuko and @baezel2<3

#tag game #i look more tired irl

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seventhmoonforreal · 3 years

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EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS ⚠️

"You could be my baby

What's your star sign?

Won't you take a step

Into the lion's den?"

Okay aside from the lyrics from a silly song from my childhood (bonus if you guess it lmao), this is a kind of announcement i’m making.

It’s not like me to whine about my problems on social media, as I’m aware there are people who are suffering more than me — and I’m very ashamed rn — but this is something I had to say.

I’ll be on vacation next week, so i won’t probably be drawing/posting for three days (unless maybe some useless sketches).

But the point is that — once i’ll be back, I’ll open EMERGENCY commissions.

I’ve been drawing only in a traditional technique lately, even tho I think I am known for using a whole lot of different media.

All my collabs are suspended right now because well — I can’t draw digitally anymore.

My graphic tablet (a Wacom Intuos Pro II that has been my buddy since 2015) decided to say goodbye to me.

It is broken.

And I unfortunately don’t have the money for it.

I won’t ask my parents for a new device bc they’re already struggling with their jobs.

I have a job too but, as many youngsters are in Italy, I’m underpaid.

For now I can’t draw digitally, I can’t collab, I can’t take digital commissions or make those people who liked my digital art happy, i guess.

So, what I’m asking you, is that ONLY and ONLY if you want, is to give me a little hand.

I’ll work hard to get enough money for a new device (idk if its a tablet or an ipad or whatever), but in the meantime, if you want, you can buy a print from my already existent drawings, or commission me a traditional piece (i’d be willing to sell you originals.

I’m not forcing y’all to make anything of course.

Any share, any interaction will be helpful of course to spread the word.

I’m sorry again if I made you uncomfortable with this post.

I’m thanking in advance all of you.

Contact me here or on insta or check my redbubble if you want! It’s in my bio on insta

My insta: @_seventhmoon_

IM STARTING NEXT WEEK FROM THURSDAY

Also, I hope you’ll like this drawing too <3

What’s your star sign?

I’m a Sagittarius! My rising is Aquarius and my Moon is Virgo <3

#artists on tumblr #my artwork #my art stuff #my art #brian may #queen band #queen #queen art #illustrators on tumblr #fanart #freddie mercury #art commisions #emergency #commission #zodiac #john deacon fanart #john deacon queen #roger taylor #roger taylor queen

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 3 years

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Hi! I love everything that you write and heh I am a fan! 😄 tbh this is my first time requesting something on Tumblr! If you don't mind and if I am not being a bother...can you write about how the guys would react If MC suddenly starts making meme references? I don't know how I got the idea but I am REALLY curious. And love you! :D

Hiya! Tyvm for the kind words, and apologies that this took a while! I hope you have the chance to enjoy it regardless ❤️❤️❤️ Love you too, sweet pea! I promise to get to the next request you’ve sent ASAP~

Aight but this would be hilarious because the range of the reactions is just ungodly. I will be putting this under a cut after Napoleon so I don’t clog up everyone’s dash, but all the suitors are included below otherwise!

Comte is the one that recognizes a few, but didn’t really stay in modern times long enough to be as well-versed as a Gen Z kid might. Regardless he finds the wittiness and absolute chaotic fuckery to be delightful, and will 100% support the harmless nonsense. It never fails to get a laugh out of him

Mozart that first day be like: “Buzz off MC I hate you” MC, because she likes swinging bats at wasps’ nests: “Well that’s not very cash money of you” Mozart: ?????????? Comte, giggling in the bg like the secret fae he is This one’s just because I’m petty, but after the events of Comte rt I just imagine them encountering Vlad again and MC’s just “I lived bitch.” while Comte is flipping him off behind her lkjahgkjhdsg

Comte @ Leo when he finds the latter under his desk: Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you. MC: wheezing from the hallway as she’s about to give him his letters

MC: So how was your day, honey? Comte: Good, good--briefly had to go beastmode upon the punk that pilfered my lint roller MC, biting her lip to keep from laughing: So does Leo still have his kneecaps? Comte: for now.

Comte, @ literally anyone upsetting the MC: I won’t hesitate, bitch

Comte: Be careful with my emotional baggage, it’s designer

MC: What if I was evil and ran towards you at very fast speeds Comte: My arms are strong, I would catch and hug you

Leo and Dazai are the ones that don’t have a single reference point but are filled with so much dumbass chaos energy that they just. Understand immediately???? Nobody knows how or why, but they just catch on so fast--adapt the language in a matter of weeks. Never underestimate the power of combined boredom, depression, and humor

I swear to god I just see MC taking them their Blanc/Rouge and being like “here you go sir, one enslaved moisture” and they just go fucking hog wild from day one. MC starts impersonating Theo when he leaves the room around Dazai, like fake deep voice “you all only hate me because you do not like me and I am mean to you. grow up.” Or like the MC meets a baby on her travels with Leo around town and she holds them and says v seriously and sagely “So you are Baby? I have heard tales of your exploits.” and Leo about loses his shit right there. They both think MC is the funniest person alive--they’ve never been more eager to throw a ring at someone in their entire life.

Also a bonus for my beloved Dazai: MC, facing even the slightest inconvenience (like dropping her fork) in the most dramtic voice possible: Life is not daijoubu. Dazai: wheezing

MC, after watching Theo turn down a woman at the bar in the meanest way possible: bro quit letting the darkness consume you u r scaring the hoes Dazai, literally rolling around on the ground, half-drunk and dying:

MC, walking alongside Dazai and stopping to stare at her reflection in the River Seine. Dazai’s expecting some sad or twisted shit, since people often feel comfortable talking about those things around him, but instead she just: “Oh, it’s you. The source of all my problems.” And he about falls into the river from shock HAHAHA

At this point don’t be surprised if his next book is about an absolute madlad woman similar to MC

Napoleon finds it to be a delightful quirk more than anything? He doesn’t really understand it, but he finds it funny when they change their voice for effect or speak in exaggerated tones. If it’s just comprehensible enough for an outsider to understand--or Sebas gives him context--chances are it’ll send him into a laughing fit

For this one I just imagine MC singing that Ratatouille meme song obnoxiously bad while cooking, and Napoleon and Comte are just so wildly amused by it bc it makes zero sense and it’s only vaguely French at this point

MC @ Napoleon while they’re cooking brunch: Can I offer you a nice egg in these trying times?

MC, conflicted because she’s tired and wanted to sleep in but also got to see Napo’s cute sleeping face for a few hours: For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5AM on the day I can sleep in. Sebas: Early to bed and early to rise makes a person healthy, wealthy, and wise MC: early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch Napoleon: laughing in agreement

Isaac is the type to be bewildered and concerned at first (especially when he hears the more nihilistic ones hoOOOoooOO BOY) but eventually begins to understand it’s some bizarre attempt at humor (that hurts Zack baby). While some part of him laments that it reminds him of Dazai and he’s secretly jealous of how she and Dazai bond over it, he will sometimes join in the chaos when the mood strikes him and he’s feeling mischievous

Isaac: How are you feeling? MC: Oh, I’m not Isaac: seconds from dialing 911 Isaac: Are you okay? MC: Oh yeah dw I just suffer from that syndrome where your neutral expression makes you look like you’re an angry serial killer Isaac: say sike rn

Isaac, tutoring MC and correcting something: MC, muttering while redoing it: The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math. Isaac: unable to help a laugh

One time MC was avoiding Isaac for fear of hurting his feelings and he just confronts her like: Isaac: back by unpopular demand, me! What’s wrong, MC pls MC was so hecking proud of him

Isaac, telling MC about a recent discovery he learned at uni from another professor: bones typically heal stronger after they’ve been broken--so long as they’re set properly, of course MC, looking him dead in the eyes: So what you’re saying is that I should break every bone in my body until I become superhumanly powerful? Isaac: please do not, no

Mozart and Jeanne are just. Totally lost. Why are you talking like that??? Why are you making “crab hands”???? They don’t understand. Maybe never will. They reach a point where they just kind of laugh and shake their heads, endeared by the oddity after they’re used to it and have determined it isn’t a threat/insult.

MC: It’s a cold and it’s a brooooken, Waluigi. Waaaaluigiiiii...waaaahluigi..... Mozart: surprised, then starts snickering and playing along on the piano

Arthur, asking MC very personal questions out loud because he is an idiot sometimes: Soooo MC, are you a top or a bottom? MC: I’m a threat. (If he asks a second time, the response will be “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy.”) Jeanne, fighting a smile:

MC, about to punch an asshole: Your free trial of being alive has ended Jeanne, seconds from laughing for the first time in 100 years:

Also, because I genuinely can’t help myself. You know that knight meme like “Parry this you fucking casual.” I cannot stress enough that it is literally the personification of Jeanne’s entire character. I’m not even joking.

Arthur and Shakespeare are utterly fascinated by the rapid evolution of wordplay and the sheer hilarity. They will ask all about these so-called “memes” and ask for examples of them if MC can show them (either somehow accessing her phone or drawing them). MC draws Arthur the knife cat meme and he about a s c e n d s at the hilarity of it all, points and yells THEO IS HOLDING THE KNIFE. He is correct. They will be delighted and follow along eagerly, and--god forbid--will make their own based on late 19th century struggles.

Is this where Shakespeare got the idea for “What, you egg? stabs him” and “You are a saucy boy.”? I’m too scared to ask. Don’t even get me started on “The Fool jingled miserably across the floor.” That one is just too on the nose...

I can’t even imagine what would happen to Shakespeare if MC like translated vines and memes into Ye Olde English around him. Imagine she’s at one of those noble balls and hears rumors of these two guys living together and they’re so obviously gay and he says “And those gents w’re roommates.” And in the most false surprised tone ever MC just replies “oh mine own god, those gents w’re roommates.” Imagine having a wife that’s just as hilarious as you are and hits you with all the force of a bag of wet mice every time you speak in retaliation, he’s going into palpitations.

Every time Arthur does smth stupid MC just: “I Pretend I Do Not See It.”

Vincent is tickled pink by MC’s penchant for finding joy and/or amusement in nearly everything they do, and he smiles gently when he sees them muttering and laughing to themselves. He wants to be able to join them in what they love, but he has a harder time following along and understanding the darker humor sometimes. Mostly gets confused??? Please give him the easier ones to mimic and laugh when he tries--or just include him in your jokes MC. He’s babie your honor...

But he also. Will not. Stand any kind of self-deprecation or borderline verbal self-harm. He’s usually very easygoing and calm, but for whatever reason that stuff makes him go deathly quiet and upset.

MC, after something goes horribly wrong, hugging Vincent: Oh Vince, we really in it now Vincent: giggling a little despite his worries, relaxing

MC: Theo stop simping for Vincent that’s my job

MC, when Theo leaves the room and she gets Vincent all to herself: The evil is defeated.

MC: And this is where I would put my will to live...if I h a d one! Vincent: ;-; MC: oh shit, oh fuck, I was only kidding Vincent wait (MC was subsequently lectured and loved on for many hours)

Theo is conflicted because on the one hand, he loves to see you smiling and having fun. On the other, you’re clowning as hard as Dazai and Arthur and he can only handle so many monkeys in his circus. Most of the time he will roll his eyes and be the straight man of this comedy, but you might find him cracking a smile--or accidentally letting a chuckle slip past his lips now and again.

MC, after meeting Theo: I’m a nice person, but I’m about to start throwing rocks at people.

Theo, those first days: Oh? You’re approaching me? Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me? MC: I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer.

Theo: Every time I ask MC to explain “vibe check” to me she hits me with some kind of improvised weapon

MC, after the “incident” (you know the one): This year, I lost my dear lover Theo Theo, in the distance: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD! MC: ;-; sometimes I can still hear his voice...

Sebastian is last because oh boy. OH BOYYYYY I LOVE HIM. Okay so the way I see this happening with Sebastian is just. So wild. Because at first he’s t r y i n g so hard to be the proper butler man. He does not meme. But then he starts to drift closer to what Niles from The Nanny was, where he’ll quip and joke in private or when the situation is just beyond the amount of absurdity he can handle without making a snarky comment. Everyone in the house can’t fathom how Sebas and MC got so close so fast, but there are points where they’re just “Are they even speaking English anymore???” It’s 11 times funnier than normal because Sebas almost never smiles or laughs when memeing, the deadpan quality of his playing along sends MC every time

Has ABSOLUTELY said “HEY. PANINI HEAD. ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME???” jokingly when MC made a mistake in the kitchen. They laugh about it for y e a r s

MC: I can’t date someone who keeps a lamb as a pet, that’s so weird Sebas, brushing Lotte in front of MC: MC: MC: Okay, I will make an exception because she looks very polite

MC and Sebas, fully aware of the fame some of the men will reach in modern times: We will watch your career with great interest. (I s2g that’s like half of Sebas’ rt right there I’m crying)

Sebas rt with Lotte be like that 500 dollar Mareep meme: “sometimes a family can be just a boy, his gf, and their 500 dollar two foot tall Lotte”

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mikrowrites · 3 years

Text

andromeda

(vignettes cut from cottages of constellations; can be read as a one-shot)

c!wilbur x reader

summary: a series of memories from y/n’s perspective; the war, the death, the stars, the secret, and the meeting.

warnings: fluff, angst, violence, war themes, bad mental health situations, death, language, manipulation

a/n: this is basically a bunch of scrapped ideas from cottages of constellations that i shoved together bc i already had them written and have been hitting a writer’s block with pt 3. the only part of this you should regard as “canon” is the syndicate vignette, that will be in pt 3. enjoy!!

Y/n and Wilbur kept many secrets.

That was not something unknown by any, not a surprise to some. The two seemed to have words unspoken, existing between the glance of an eye or a brush of a hand, a nod of a head and a ever so soft sigh. Y/n and Wilbur kept many secrets to themselves and themselves only.

The cottage was one. A secret kept along a peaceful riverbank, until the price of TNT seemed higher than that forgotten paradise. There were some other secrets too. Some inconsequential, some almost burdening.

Y/n and Wilbur kept a secret they chose to not share with anyone. A secret that would be for the best if left unsaid.

But the price of freedom would prove higher and more demanding. The price for a tall brunette man to whisper the words into an enemy’s ear, for the enemy to relay it to someone who was once deemed an old friend.

The moment Schlatt spoke the secret out loud to Y/n with threatening intent, everything came crashing to the ground.

It was a secret Schlatt would die with.

—

The War…

Y/n arrived as the sun rose at dawn.

Wilbur was there to meet her, his uniform jacket unbuttoned messily and his cravat askew. As she approached him closer he smiled softly, but the smile was tired, aching, the light in his eyes dimmed by the bags beneath them.

What was the saying, “winning is easy, governing is harder”?

Y/n feared both feats were insurmountably difficult.

“Hello, love.” Wilbur sighed, striding the distance of Y/n’s approach and pulling her into his arms, holding her like a lifeline.

“Hey Wil, it’s okay, I’m here.” Y/n reassured.

He pulled away with a less tight smile, wrapping his fingers around her own, pulling her towards the majestic walls.

“Y/n L/n, welcome to L’manburg.”

And L’manburg was small, and undeveloped, and nothing quite impressive really. But it was her lover’s nation, and to Y/n it looked like a spectacle of heaven. “It’s wonderful.”

Wilbur led her into the camaravan, where battle plans and declarations had been hung and placed about, with an occasional empty bottle or a misplaced piece of weaponry.

Y/n had fought in wars before, in another life, far from this server. She had played the part of diplomat, of ally, of enemy. It was all a language familiar to her like breathing, and she suspected Wilbur was well aware, why else would he write begging her to join the front lines?

She hummed in thought, running her hands over a tabletop. “When’s the next battle, then?”

“Tomorrow.” Wilbur replied simply.

Y/n nodded. “Okay. Where do we start?”

Wilbur smiled once more.

—

The Death…

Y/n struggled against Quackity’s hold, screaming her throat raw. “YOU KILLED HIM!”

Smoke from the firework barrage still lingered on the execution box, Schlatt turning from his podium to Y/n. He smirked. “Y/n, my dear, he was a traitor. You know what happens to traitors.”

Y/n spat at his feet, the man laughing. “That’s cute. Remember Y/n, I hold all the cards in my hands. You don’t want to step out of line, remember? Who knows what secrets could get spilled.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Y/n glared, her eyes like fire as the two stood off against each other on the podium under Manberg’s watching eyes. “Because I am going to fucking kill you before you even think about it.”

Schlatt laughed loudly again, facing the crowd. “Do you hear that, folks? Miss Y/n is going to kill me!” He lowered his voice, leaning so he was face to face with her. “That’s treason, my friends.”

Y/n hardened her eyes, as Quackity let her arms go. She stepped forwards, her hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword. Everything was quiet, not the crowd’s jabs or cries were heard by her, not even Niki’s protests to spare her best friend.

Schlatt smiled, unsheathing his own sword as Y/n stood her ground, preparing to produce her own in hopes of taking down the tyrannical man once and for all.

“These were not the ideals of L’manberg.” Y/n shouted so the audience could hear her. “And Manberg should be no different. And I’m getting really fucking tired of you hurting everyone and everything I love. So yeah, I’m a traitor, because I value people over a country.”

“People you’d be willing to lose a life for?” Schlatt jeered.

“Time and time again, yes.” She verified.

Schlatt shook his head in amusement. “Y/n, the patron saint of L’manberg. You’ll fall as easily as any man.”

Y/n smirked, drawing her own sword. “Good thing I’m not a man then, yes?”

“STOP! Stop!”

The two adversaries’ heads whipped over, catching the glimpse of a tall brunette in a brown trench coat walking down the aisle of seats, hands out in a preventative gesture. “Stop.”

“Wil…?” The man who left her behind. The man who promised safety. The man who most importantly, loves her. The former President, to protect his former First Lady.

Schlatt’s sword ran through Y/n’s body. Wilbur screamed.

The girl gasped, grasping Schlatt’s shoulder’s with tight fingers, looking at him in shock. He had gotten the upper hand. Y/n had never lost a duel, yet this one was over before it had even started because she did the one thing she had been trained to never do in battle.

Y/n found distraction in a lover.

Wilbur would always be her hubris.

Schlatt leaned over with booze-tainted breath to whisper in her ear. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He then ripped the sword out of her, and everything went black. The last thing Y/n heard before waking up laying in the soft grass of a forest was the sound of Wilbur shouting her name.

Y/n was killed by JSchlatt

—

The Stars…

Long ago, in a world different from where she was now, Y/n’s mother had taught her every constellation strewn across the night sky. The young girl would marvel at her mother, eyes shining with curiosity and awe as the soft-spoken woman would point to each cluster of stars.

Life was simple then, before war after war Y/n was forced to fight and win. Before aching loss and hurt.

Y/n laid on the angled roof of Philza’s house, her lips parted slightly as her eyes traced designs of warriors and beasts and lovers. Her breath fogged into the night sky, the girl indifferent to the cold surrounding her.

“Kid, what’re ya doin’?”

She flicked her eyes down to where Technoblade stood beneath her, staring up at her form with disinterest but yet a glint of confusion or curiosity.

Y/n smirked, her eyes traveling back up to the sky. “Chasing constellations.”

Technoblade definitely had the right idea to be a tint worried at the sight of Y/n on a roof, staring off into nothing. It had been a week and a half since they had both blown up New L’manberg, and her mind was undoubtedly conflicted. Techno supposed if he were in the same situation, he’d feel the same perhaps. But now (though he’d never show it) he was just concerned of the well-being of his old friend.

So Technoblade was immensely surprised when Y/n patted a spot on the roof next to her and said: “cmon”.

The blood god was silent and still for a moment before pulling out his trident, using it to launch himself up and land gracefully onto the roof next to her. The girl didn’t flinch a bit, just turned back to the night sky.

Y/n looked tired, Techno noticed, but yet relieved. He hadn’t seen her this relaxed since their last war fought together away from this server, where she had spoken of a kindhearted brunette she was running away with after the battle’s conclusion.

Technoblade sat next to her, the girl sighing. “No more wars, Techno. I’ve fought my last one. I’m tired of being a pawn in someone’s game, of breaking myself for others.” Y/n huffed out a laugh. “I think I might try that retirement plan.”

“Retirement is overrated.” Technoblade groaned. “So if I made you an offer, you’d refuse?”

Y/n shrugged, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her kneecaps. “Depends on the offer. I’m pretty done being taken advantage of.”

Techno turned to look at her. “All these years and you don’t trust the proof I wouldn’t.”

“Can’t blame a girl for having trust issues.” She grumbled. “What’s the offer?”

“I’m putting together a group of people with common ideals. Anarchy, we’d be there to abolish these kingdoms’ governments before they can cause more death and destruction, cause more Wilburs.” Techno explained, the girl turning to him at the sound of her ex-lover’s name. “We’re called the Syndicate.”

Y/n murmured the name to herself, furrowing her eyebrows. “Who’s we?”

“Philza and I. Zephyrus and Prostileus. And, potentially, you.” He stated. “Codenames.”

She turned back to the stars, silent for a few minutes. Technoblade patiently sat in the quiet, letting the girl mull over her thoughts. It had been about five minutes when he spoke up. “So? What’ll it be?”

Y/n pursed her lips, before parting them with a soft exhale. “Andromeda… call me Andromeda.”

Technoblade smiled at his old comrade in battle, now considered an ally and friend.

“Welcome to the Syndicate, Andromeda.”

—

The Secret…

Y/n wasn’t sure how long she had sat in the makeshift cell. Had it been days? Weeks? She didn’t know. All she knew was locked away to stand trial for “aiding fugitives in escaping”.

Her thoughts drifted to Wilbur, as they usually did in moments like these, where she fought desperately to remember the sound of his laughter or his loving assurances. Y/n hoped he and Tommy were safe, and she knew they were smart so they would be.

But she feared for Fundy as well. They had spoken on the night he announced his campaign for president, their hushed voices behind the podium as the rest of the server were asleep.

Y/n met the boy in the shadows of the podium, Fundy looking at her for some kind of reaction. Would she shout in anger? Cry in sadness? Running against his father was a betrayal, he should be reprimanded by the closest thing to a mother he had.

Instead, she smiled, and hugged him.

Fundy tensed in surprise before wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder as his hands clutched the back of her jacket.

“You know I have to support and stand by your father,” she started, softly rubbing small circles into Fundy’s back. “but it will never overshadow how proud I am of you.”

“Thank you, mama.” He sighed out, Y/n smiling kindly.

“You are my pride and you are my joy, Fundy. There’s nothing you could do that could make me love you less. Don’t forget that, okay?” Y/n asked.

Fundy nodded his head against his mother figure’s shoulder, still embracing her.

He missed the tears in her eyes as she bit her lip to keep her walls up. Indulging in this moment wasn’t something she was deserving of, and she knew that.

She had chosen to forego this path, it would be unfair of her to try and act as though she hadn’t changed everything.

The door to empty room creaked open, Y/n looking up to meet the eyes of a man she had once thought of as an old friend, but now some who repulsed her more than anything on this server. The man smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Y/n. Long time, no see.”

“Schlatt.” The name sounded like venom on her tongue, Y/n glaring at the man with dark eyes.

“How are you, hm?” Schlatt pulled a chair over for him to sit on, Y/n scoffing in disbelief.

“I don’t know Schlatt, you tell me. What the fuck is wrong with you, you were our friend!” She shouted.

Schlatt sat back in his hair. “I’m no one’s friend here. I’m a president here to run this country.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall, the man smirking.

“I want you to join me.”

That made the girl start to laugh, shaking her head. “You are something else, Schlatt.”

“I’m serious, I want you to join me and Manberg.” Schlatt deadpanned.

“Fuck off.” was Y/n’s reply.

Schlatt sighed, standing from where he sat, and paced to another side of the room. “Tell me, does your little lover boy have an infatuation with TNT?”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “Not that I’m aware, and if I was I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Fair enough.” Schlatt said, his footsteps clacking against stone as he further paced. “Well, he recently made some deals with the devil and came into possession of a lot of fucking TNT. You wanna know what he traded for that much power? Secrets.”

She stiffened, eyeing Schlatt warily, her voice barely above a whisper. “Secrets?”

Schlatt hummed, grinning. “Oh yeah. Loads of ‘em. I’m a chronic eavesdropper, so I had to get the scoop. And you’ll never guess what I heard.”

Y/n stood slowly, like an animal bracing for a fight, her fists shaking. She uttered the man’s name in warning, Schlatt stopping and turning to her with a wicked grin.

“You have a child.”

It felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room, Y/n momentarily forgetting how to breathe. Her mouth felt dry, her body numb. Schlatt laughed, knowing he had her right where he wanted her.

“Fundy’s actually your son! Biologically and everything! And you never told him, you just left!” Schlatt exclaimed.

Y/n burst forwards, slamming Schlatt against the wall and lodging her forearm across his throat. She spoke with a low, dangerous voice. “I was young. I was stupid. And I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I couldn’t be the mother he needed.”

“So you left. And then you come back and you play the part of his mother, while the poor boy thinks your lover fucked a fish? That’s fucked up, Y/n.” He chuckled lowly.

Y/n pursed her lips, glaring into Schlatt’s eyes. “What do you want?”

Schlatt slowly removed Y/n’s forearm from his throat. “I want you to join me as one of my officials. I want you to betray Wilbur and Tommy. And if you don’t…”

“… I tell Fundy your big secret… and then I personally kill him until he’s dead.”

Y/n felt completely and absolutely defeated. She had never let someone have the upper hand on her. Not like this. She remained distraughtly silent, Schlatt nodding Ashe received his answer.

He reached into his pocket, throwing her comm device onto the floor. “Lover boy’s been trying to call you for weeks. You should call him back one last time and tell him to never call again. You know what’s at stake.” Schlatt then turned and walked towards the door. “I’ll have a fine pressed suit for you tomorrow morning and a more comfortable room, then the real work begins. Goodnight, Y/n.”

And he was gone.

Y/n fell to her knees, her body shaking with fear and guilt. Why did she have to be so stupid why did she have to create such deep-sewn weaknesses, why did she leave her son?

She reached for the comms device, her trembling fingers clicking a button as she spoke out in a terrified whisper. “Wilbur?”

—

The meeting…

Y/n hated parties with a passion she could not fathom. The celebration of another war won, a country saved. She was just a wandering soldier, moving from one battle to the next, finding celebration a little tone-deaf.

But nonetheless she stood in the banquet hall, her sash of medals and patches detailing her great accomplishments hung on her frame, with the world’s most uncomfortable dress covering her. Technoblade had told Y/n to liven up, drink and dance a little, though what a fucking hypocrite because he didn’t show up.

Y/n sipped her champagne, leaning against the bar top, a bored expression laid across her face as she traced circles into the wood with her finger. She didn’t register the boy standing next to her, eying her with curiosity before he spoke up. “One vodka neat, please.”

She finally indulged to meet his gaze, the tall brunette smiling and offering his hand. “Wilbur Soot.”

Y/n knocked back the rest of her champagne, before shaking his hand. “Y/n L/n.”

“You seem bored, Y/n L/n.” Wilbur observed.

She scoffed. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“So I can tell.” He quipped, Y/n beginning to question the audacity of this kid. But he just smiled widely, pulling a stool and sitting next to her.

“Look, I don’t know what you want, but if it’s getting in my pants tonight it’s definitely not happening.” Y/n bluntly responded.

“Woah there! Take me out to dinner before we discuss that.” Wilbur defended, retrieving his drink from the bartender.

Y/n couldn’t even tell if the man was joking, but she rolled her eyes anyways. He was silent, she could tell he was trying to size her up. Figure out what made her brain tick, how to read her.

Must be frustrating for him to know he can’t.

She sighed, pulling away from the bar top, smoothing out her despised dress. “Well, thanks for the chat Wilbur, but I’d best be going.”

“Of course. Have a good night, Y/n.” Wilbur raised his drink and tipped it towards her in a kind of toasting or saluting gesture. She was a high ranked militia official anyways.

Y/n nodded and walked away, Wilbur watching her as she left. What she didn’t know, was he could read her like an open book. He saw her pain, her guilt, her stone disposition. But he saw her kindness, her generosity, her beauty. Wilbur was intoxicated by the mere presence of her, and her mystery.

Wilbur just had a gut feeling they’d cross paths again. And when they did, maybe in a space she was more comfortable than the loud and cheering party, maybe he’d offer her a drink, or even a dance. The boy slammed his drink on the table before standing, and rushing across the room.

Why wait when you know?

Y/n felt a gentle hand on her wrist, the girl turning to see Wilbur. She raised an eyebrow in question as he released his soft grip, and held his palm flat out in front of her. “May I have this dance.”

She had seen years of pretty boys offering her drinks and dances and the world. Each disappointed, each never following through. But Y/n looked up at Wilbur, and she could see the world in his brown eyes, she could see hope and chivalry and mirth. She pursed her lips, the boy seeming to deflate at her monotone and silent response.

Y/n took his hand, to the boy’s surprise. “One dance. That’s all.”

They danced all night. And laughed all night, more than Y/n had in years.

Y/n had never felt more alive than the night she met Wilbur Soot.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot imagines #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #dream smp imagines #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #dsmp imagine #dsmp imagines #dsmp x reader #c!wilbur soot x reader

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a-wildemusing · 3 years

Text

The Three of Us: A Late Night at the Cafe.

word count: 1,676~

genre: Kenma x platonic!reader, Kuroo x Platonic!reader.

warnings: nothing I can think of. probably any mistakes.

summary: Y/n took the late shift at the Cafe they work at. It’s been a slow night until unexpectedly a whole volleyball team decides to get a late snack.

a/n: this is part of a series I’m doing, called the Three of Us. Its made up events and adventures with being best friends with Kuroo and Kenma. Hope you enjoy!

The Three of Us. ✨ Masterlist. ✨

The night was going to be a long one, you thought. As a courtesy to your boss lady, you said that you would take her closing shift so she and her family could spend the evening together. It was her son’s birthday. You wanted them to spend as much time with her family as possible. There was no class the following day, so it all worked out. You could sleep in and your boss lady can relax.

A few customers came in, but it wasn't overwhelming. Even at the last hour, you even told your co-worker they can go home early. You have done this many times before. Taking the closing shift wasn't anything new to you. The boss lady did not hesitate to trust you.

It was a quiet night. Only two people came in for drinks after your coworker left. They left after a short stay. You were on your own after that. From the front window of the cafe, you looked out. Occasionally, a car passed by. As the minutes passed, the streets began to clear. After catching yourself spacing out, you decided to keep busy and start cleaning a little.

You had your back turned from the door. Cleaning the counters a little while waiting for closing time. There were still forty minutes left. You were minding your own business. Humming along with the low melody of the song playing over the speakers.

This sort of quiet was sometimes enjoyable to you. However, it was beginning to feel a little overwhelming. You went too deep into your thoughts.

The past few months have been interesting. There were many things coming up soon. Summer break was just around the corner. Graduation was drawing near for third-year students. In the coming term, Kuroo will be attending university. Kenma and you were going to be third years. Everything felt a little overwhelming.

As you sighed, you began to organize some things. Your work routine slowly returns and you try not to space out again.

Your ears were alerted to the chimes from the door. A smile soon appeared on your face as soon as you turned around to see your smirking best friend. You had a slightly confused expression on your face, but the smile was still prominent. Kuroo was standing with what seemed like the whole volleyball team.

“Welcome!” You cheerfully said putting down the rag you were using the clean moments ago.

You smiled at Kuroo. “What are you guys doing here? I thought you guys had practice”

“We-

“Y/n, can I still order?” Lev interrupted Kuroo. Lev walked towards you with heart eyes. Kuroo rolled his eyes and sat at the nearest table. Kenma follows him. Both of them are watching you. Before giving Lev your full attention, you shook your head at the two.

“Oh. yeah! Of course,” You said cheerfully as you made your way to the cash register. “What can I get you, Lev?”

The rest of the team lined up behind Lev to order and offer a small greeting as well. After taking some orders, you take a short break to make the drinks or give the snacks to the boys. Even though they had practiced, everyone was so lively. Kuroo caught your eye as you glanced over at him. A smile spread across his face. It was as if he knew you needed the company.

Kenma finally came up to you to say hi when it seemed you had a small moment to yourself. You handed him a box to go.

“Hi, Kenma.” You smiled. “I saved that for you.”

Kenma opens the box to see a piece of apple pie. He smiles, and thanks you before sitting with Yamamoto. Then you went back making drinks again.

Once everyone had their food and drinks. You went around chatting with everyone. Yaku and Fukunaga were the two you ended up with. The two of them took care of you by protecting you from Lev, Inouka, and Yamamoto from simping too hard or bothering you.

All in all, it was a good time. You felt so much better. The thoughts you thought earlier weren't so bothersome to you anymore.

In time, the volleyball team began to slowly leave. Everyone said goodbye and thanks to you. Before leaving, some of them helped you stack some of the chairs on top of the tables. All that remained was to mop the floors and finalize the cash register.

Soon the only person that was left was Kuroo. Kenma was actually feeling tired and went home with the rest.

“Thanks for tonight.” As Kuroo grabbed the spare mop, you said softly, "I was kind of feeling weird." You moved the mop side to side as you slowly walked backward, not making eye contact with him.

"I remember you telling me you would be taking the night shift and we ended practice early. So why not.” Kuroo said while he mopped an area a little further apart from you. “But what’s up?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

“I am sure you do. How am I supposed to give you amazing advice if you don’t tell me what’s bugging you? How can your elder help you?” Kuroo teases you.

You shake your head with a small smile on your face. “You are only one year older than me... Shut up.”

A chuckle escaped Kuroo's lips. Then he taps your mop with his. Bringing your eyes up to look at him. As you hold the mop and pretend to be holding a sword, Kuroo follows your lead and does the same.

“I don’t know…” You softly tap your mop with his a couple of times. “What are we going to do without you, Kuroo?” You leaned the mop by the counter.

“What do you mean? I’m not leaving.”

“Yes, you are. This is your last year. Graduation is coming soon.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. We have been together since we were kids and I don't know... Maybe I'm just being weird.” You looked down.

“No. No. you’re not. To be honest with you. I thought about this.”

“Really?” You looked back up to meet Kuroo’s eyes. There was a seriousness to them.

“Yeah, really. I was thinking that I get one whole year without you and Kenma. How peaceful will that be.”

You nudged him playfully, “ Hey!”

Kuroo starts laughing, putting the mop that he was holding down next to yours. He leans on the counter to keep his balance.

Kuroo as he calms down. “It’s not like I’m leaving the face of the Earth Y/n. Plus, you are going to the same university as me.” Kuroo teases.

“I know! Okay…it’s just I-I’m... I’m going to miss you.” You give him a small smile.

But with that Kuroo starts laughing again.

“Oh come on, Kuroo let me be sappy for a second.” You sighed and gave Kuroo a shove. “You’re my best friend...my annoying older brother. God. Maybe, this is going to be a nice break from your teasing!” Your vision slowly started to blur. You shocked your head.

“I’m going to miss seeing you every day,” Kuroo said, as he walked towards you. He wraps you in a hug and you return the hug. “But don’t worry. It’s going to be like I haven’t left. I’m going to bug you and Kenma as much as possible.”

You rolled your eyes but hugged Kuroo a little harder. The both of you stayed like that for a bit.

“Hey, come on. I know you still have to finalize the cash register and it's getting late.” Kuroo lets go of you.

You and Kuroo completed the cleaning and you completed the cash register after your conversation. The cafe was locked. The two of you walked home together. It was a quiet walk and train ride home. Each of you taking a moment to ponder over the small conversation you both had.

There was going to be a lot of change. Getting used to not seeing each other every day was going to take some time. However, you knew Kuroo and Kenma would be your closest friends for a long time.

*Kenma and Y/n during the first two weeks of their third year*

Your alarm went off and when you saw it was the third special alarm you woke up so quickly. A burst of energy helps you race to get yourself ready and out the door. Your third alarm was your last warning before you were going to have zero time to make it to school on time.

You knew if you were waking up late, Kenma would be as well. Your hair was a little messy, your uniform wasn't tucked in completely, and there were some papers trapped in the zipper of your school bag.

“We're going to be late, Kenma!" You barged into Kenma’s room. Kenma is still lying in bed. Opening his eyes gradually, he gazes into the distance towards you by the door.

“Kenma! Let's go!" You threw his uniform at him. Despite still being confined to his bed, he slowly begins to rise.

“What do you mean...Kuroo is not here yet.” Kenma rubs his eyes.

After a brief pause, you turned your attention to him. Your face displays a sad smile. It's then that Kenma realizes what's going on.

“Oh.” He grabs his uniform.

Kenma and you were finally out the door and rushing to school. You both were able to catch the train. Both sitting down, you placed your head on Kenma’s shoulder trying to catch your breath.

“How did Kuroo manage to keep us from being late for so long?” You look up smiling at Kenma.

“I don’t even know.” Kenma takes out his handheld console.

You lifted your head from Kenma’s shoulder when you felt your phone blowing up with text messages. You smile to yourself seeing who was texting you. Kuroo was texting you asking if you made it on time and if you and Kenma were at school yet. You message him back and then put your phone away. Placing your head back on Kenma’s shoulder to watch him play his game.

end notes lol

~ Kenma and Y/n were so distracted by the game that they almost missed their stop. ಥ‿ಥ

~Kuroo is stressed af bc of Kenma and Y/n and he doesn’t even go to same school as them anymore lol

#haikyu!!#haikyuu!!#kozume kenma #kenma #hq #hq kenma #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma x platonic! reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #hq kuroo #haikyuu!! kuroo #kuroo x platonic!reader #platonic reader #haikyuu x you #a-wildemusing writes

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vennilavee · 3 years

Text

pink matter

pairing: levi x reader- grad school/boxer au (set in 2:58 AM//bare knuckles universe) summary: it’s levi’s birthday and you’re his present. word count: 4052 warnings: smoking (shisha), smut in the form of: oral (f receiving), fingering, grinding, oc is lowkey a pillow princess, oc cries (bc levi’s stroke game is too good), edging, spitting (dont @ me). 18+ !!!! a/n: ummm what can i say other than...happy birthday to my mans. and yes i listened to pink matter by frank ocean on repeat while writing this

Levi and birthdays were a tricky thing- he stubbornly refused to do anything over the top every year that you’d known him. His birthday celebrations have almost always been something that his friends have planned, or for the past few years, they’ve been celebrations that you have planned. His birthday fell during winter break, but this year neither of you were heading home. He was staying on campus for his internship and you were staying on campus to apply for jobs and give Levi company.

Besides, your family’s home wasn’t far from campus anyway.

He had had a boxing match earlier in the week, and had come out relatively unscathed with a few still healing bruises and welts over his knuckles. Despite your many attempts to dissuade him from underground boxing, none of them worked. He was good at it, great even, and he made more money underground boxing than he could ever hope to make at his internship. Besides, he had promised you that he was almost ready to quit.

You refused to let him splurge on you the way you knew he wanted to. If he was going to hurt himself to save up money for his mother, then every penny of his boxing money would go towards that.

Levi could splurge on you later, as you often reminded him when it was late at night and he would voice to you how you deserve more. You scoffed at him, telling him that he knew you better than that. Besides, his kisses, his touch, his time was worth more than anything. Him coming back to you unscathed was worth more than a pretty piece of jewelry.

That didn’t stop him from getting you a beautiful gold necklace for your birthday. He needed to get you at least one thing for you to show off. You had protested immediately- you were both struggling for money, to make ends meet as graduate students. But he had silenced you- “Let me treat you just this once.”

And you couldn’t argue with that.

So today, you choose to keep Levi’s birthday lowkey, just how he prefers it. Just you and him. He’s spending most of the day at his internship, and then will be meeting Erwin and Hange for a quick drink. And then he’ll be having dinner with you.

He had asked you several times if you had wanted to join him for drinks, but you waved him off. Telling him to spend time with his friends, and that you’d go to his apartment once he came back.

Levi had kissed you goodbye in the morning, letting you linger over his chapped lips for a few minutes longer.

You’re satisfied in letting him leave in the morning, as you had woken him up early with a birthday blowjob. The rest can wait until after he comes home.

You had given instructions to Erwin and Hange to keep Levi with them for as long as they could. After all, you had to finish baking the mini lemon tarts you wanted to make for Levi, make dinner, and get ready.

You were going to wear your baby pink satin-y dress. The one with thin straps. The one that Levi loved on you.

Anticipation floods through you as minutes tick by. You were multitasking- rolling dough, chopping meat, green chilis and vegetables up for the jiaozi and noodles that you wanted to make for dinner while checking the oven. Levi had given you his mother’s recipe for jiaozi, and you were eager to try it out.

Hopefully it came out as good as his mom’s.

You'd told Levi you’d be heading back to your own place to tidy up and fix up your resume, but really you had just snuck back into his apartment to start cooking with the spare key he had given you.

His kitchen smells wonderful and spicy mixed with sweet. A thin layer of sweat pools over your brow as you make sure that the broth is just right and the tarts aren’t too overdone. You’d even bought wine and whiskey- the wine mainly for you, and the whiskey for him.

Once the dough has rested for long enough, you add soy sauce, rice wine, salt and pepper to the meat and mix it. Then, you cut the dough into thin slices and add the meat filling to it. Before wetting the dough and folding the edges, you pull the tarts out of the oven.

Maybe you had prepared the tarts too early. Oh well, that’s okay.

You cook the jiaozi and pan-fry them, satisfied at the golden brown, crispy texture of them.

You make several servings of spicy Szechuan chili garlic noodles, to save as leftovers for tomorrow. You love noodles, and chili garlic noodles are one of Levi’s favorites.

Perfect. You still have around forty minutes left to get ready. If you move quickly, that’s all you’d need.

The small dining table in Levi’s extended kitchen is set with two plates, a glass of whiskey for Levi and a glass of red wine for you. You had strung more pink fairy lights around his living room and kitchen, giving the walls a faint, romantic glow.

Not that Levi knows what’s awaiting him. He’s not even expecting you in his apartment, but when he fumbles with the keys and sees the pink glow washing over his walls he knows you’ve been by.

But then he sees you sitting on the couch in his favorite baby pink dress with your legs crossed and a soft smile. You swirl your glass of wine at him expectantly, before setting it on the coffee table and greeting him at the door.

“Hey,” You murmur, smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt with your hands, “Welcome home.”

Levi can’t take his eyes off of the red of your lips. He plants his hands over your hips, drawing you in closer to him. He traces over the curve of your jaw, eyeing the necklace sitting nice and pretty at the base of your throat. Levi dips his head to kiss your clavicle easily.

“Hey,” Levi drawls, “You all pretty for me?”

“No,” You roll your eyes, “‘M all pretty for me. You’re just an added bonus.”

“Even on my birthday?”

“Shut up,” You laugh, swatting his shoulder, “Go wash up. I made you something.”

Levi palms and smacks your ass generously, swallowing your soft sigh with his lips before ducking out to wash his hands. You watch him walk away from you, enjoying the way his dress shirt clings to his narrow waist and his broad shoulders. You ring your own hands in slight nervousness, hoping that he enjoys the food you prepared for him.

You know he will. But still, you like compliments and you’re not above admitting that.

You refill your wine glass, nearly jumping when Levi wraps his arms around your waist. His hands are warm against your belly, sending a bolt of desire through your spine.

“Started drinkin’ without me?” He murmurs, voice low in your ear.

“No,” You shake your head, “I had a glass as I was cooking. That doesn’t count.”

Levi’s hand slips up the slit of your dress, squeezing your thighs and trailing up your leg. “You made us dinner?”

“And dessert,” You mumble with a nod, turning in his arms and gesturing to the dinner table. Levi’s eyes soften when he sees the set up of the dinner table- two neatly prepared plates with steaming food. How had he not smelled it when he walked in?

Probably because he was too taken with the scent of your perfume.

“It’s not much,” You mumble shyly, “But-”

Levi cuts your words off with a searing kiss, pulling you into his chest and cradling your neck. “It’s everything, angel,” Levi says, pressing his forehead to yours, “You’re everything.”

Your painted lips split into a bashful smile, and you push his hair out of his eyes to press a kiss to his forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

Levi kisses you again in gratitude, soft and chaste. His hands are rough over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He takes your hand and seats you in his lap in one swift movement, shifting you until you fit within the crevices of his chest.

You reach over for your plate and glass of wine, waiting for him to take the first bite of jiaozi. His eyes widen in appreciation, a soft hum coming from his chest.

“Tastes so good,” Levi murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder.

“Really?” You perk up, turning to look at him, “It was my first time, I wasn’t sure if I got them quite right-”

“Really,” Levi says, “Thank you for this.”

“Just wanted to do somethin’ nice for you,” You shrug, unable to stop the smile from spreading, “You deserve it, baby.”

Levi hooks his chin over your shoulder, patting your thigh to wordlessly tell you to eat with him. After a few bites, you admit-

“You’re right, I did do a good job,” You giggle, the noise almost high pitched with the addition of wine. Levi tugs your hand into his, admiring the soft lilac color of your nails as he takes a generous sip of his whiskey.

“You did,” Levi trails off flatly, nosing at your neck. You both finish your plates quietly with gratuitous sips of wine and whiskey in between respectively. The soft material of your dress is always within Levi’s touch- he loves this dress on you because it only just ghosts over the nearly hidden lines and curves of your body.

He thinks it makes you look ethereal.

By the time you finish your plates off, you’re feeling the effects of wine curling in your limbs. Making you a little more affectionate than normal, not wanting to let go of Levi’s hand. Always touching him, somehow.

Levi puts your plates away and washes them quickly as you box up the food for leftovers for tomorrow. “Hey, guess what,” You murmur, “I packed the bowl for us-”

You gesture to the living room, where your pink and purple hookah sits tall and pretty next to the coffee table. Your hookah has been your trusty friend for the last few years, and you had even introduced Levi to it. Your hookah has now made a home in Levi’s apartment as well. Even though you had taught him how to use it, he had slowly become the one to pack the shisha into the bowl whenever you both wanted to smoke and clean the water out.

You claimed that the shisha would stain your nails. He had rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. You were such a princess, but you were his princess.

“Oh wow, is it a special occasion?” He says dryly, with the arch of his eyebrow.

“It’s just some guy’s birthday,” You reply without missing a beat, earning yourself a squeeze of your ass. You sit next to him on the couch, legs tucked under you and give him the hookah pipe to take the first pull.

He blows the soft tuft of smoke above your head before taking a deeper pull. A larger cloud of smoke floats out of his mouth. You’re mesmerized by the shape of his lips and the way he holds the clear plastic pink pipe in between his long fingers.

Levi wordlessly hands you the pipe after a few pulls. You lean against his shoulder and thread your fingers through his as you take a few generous pulls. Smoking from your hookah has become something of a stress relief for both of you- sometimes you ended your nights with a nice pack and just sat with each other. It was a good way to wind down after long days and long nights.

It was a habit you knew you might be growing too old for, but you’ll deal with that later.

You start to feel a little lightheaded, a little tipsy and give Levi the pipe back. “Did you have a good day today?” You ask softly, cradling his cheek with your hand.

He hums, “Wish they were paying me more at the internship. But I’m here now.”

You understand his unspoken words- I’m happy to be here now.

“We’ll be okay soon, Levi,” You promise, “We’ll be outta here soon, baby.”

But for tonight, he only wants to think about you. Levi only wants to think about you, you in this pretty dress, you all pretty in his arms. So he puts the pipe on the table and drops the coal from the bowl, ignoring your noise of protest. Levi pulls you into his lap hastily, hands tight over your hips and wandering down to your ass.

“You should suck my cock,” Levi says bluntly, “It’s my birthday, after all.”

He’s only joking- really, he likes seeing the way you pout and protest at him. Like the princess that you are. “Levi,” You whine, “I did this morning, and I can’t get on my knees in this dress…”

“You’re right,” Levi muses, fingers tracing your sides, “This dress is too nice for you to ruin.”

“It’s your favorite dress,” You say. You’re proud of yourself and Levi finds it endearing. Levi draws you even closer and lays you over the couch with your back flat. He clasps the hem of the tight skirt of your dress and hikes it up to your waist and allows his fingers to graze the softness of your inner thighs.

Fingers instantly thread through his dark, silky hair, tugging at his scalp. He groans into your skin, eyes fluttering at the feeling. Levi draws himself up over your body, slipping the thin, pink straps of your dress off of your shoulders and dropping kisses along the column of your neck. You tilt your neck to the side in your hazy stupor, giving him an eyeful of your glowing skin.

You’re so pretty.

Levi kisses the spot behind your ear, the spot that never fails to make you sigh his name airily. He’s intoxicated by you, the sweet smell of your perfume mixed with his cologne clinging to your skin and wrapping you both in a pink bubble. Levi cradles your face with his hand, drawing your eyes towards him.

You leave him a little breathless- far more breathless than after a difficult boxing match. None of that has anything on the way you blink at him with hearts dotted in your eyes, or the way your lips are swollen from his kisses. And especially not the way you trace the hard planes of his chest with gentle calls of his name.

His eyes are blazing, adoration stamped in his grey irises. Levi ducks his head for a sharp kiss, drawing a loud whimper out of you when he puts a little pressure over your neck. He squeezes a little harder when you whine impatiently and lock your legs around his narrow waist.

His angel in pink is just full of surprises.

Levi could kiss you for hours, the soft, wet feel of your red lips against his is something he wants to drown in. He’s certain your red lipstick stains his skin, but he pays it no mind. He knows you’ll get a kick out of it, but right now, you’re only focused on peeling him out of his shirt. You toss his dress shirt on the other side of the couch, where it lands on the armchair unassumingly.

Levi hisses when your lips brush over freshly healed bruises on his chest, but he doesn’t mind the slight sting. Levi firmly pushes you back towards the couch, an excited gasp ripping from your throat.

You like it when he shows off his strength for you. Specifically, when he manhandles you a little bit.

“Be good,” Levi murmurs raspily, taking your curious hands in his, “You gonna be my good girl? It’s my birthday…”

You nod instantly, eager to please, “Y-yes. ‘M your good girl…”

“Then keep your hands to yourself, angel,” Levi says and you pout at him. But you listen, struggling not to touch him.

Levi pushes the top of your dress down and unclasps your lacy black bra in quick succession, your tits spilling out easily. Your entire body pulses when his lips plaster over your chest, his lips sucking and tongue soothing as he slides down your body.

He looks up at you from in between your legs, pleased when your eyes are hooded. You’re doing your best to listen to him, to not touch him. Just because he said so and you want to be good for him. Levi hooks his hands around your hips, pulling you flush against his face.

You buck your hips towards him and hope he doesn’t notice. He does, but says nothing, only pushing the skirt of your dress higher up on your waist. Leaving your legs bare and your clothed pussy in front of him for him to devour. Levi dots your thighs in kisses before his head disappears in between your legs and rubs his thumb over your clothed clit. He presses a kiss there and you shudder, wanting to run your hands through his hair.

But you keep your hands to yourself.

Levi hums when he finally peels your panties off and puts them in the pocket of his pants, not wanting them to get dirty. You choke at the action, feeling your face heat up. Levi spreads your legs apart, hiking them over his shoulders and licks your core teasingly. His tongue is so wet and warm that you can’t help but buck your hips for more with a whine. You tighten your thighs around his head as he gathers your wetness with his thumb and circles your clit in the same motion.

You grip the sofa cushions in an attempt to ground yourself. Your thighs tremble at the first swipe of his tongue over your folds and when he continues to circle your clit. Levi sucks your clit and pushes a finger into your dripping pussy, and you let out a strangled sort of noise. He pumps you a few strokes, your walls already clenching around his finger.

And then he just stops. You whine in annoyance, your brow furrowed and your lips pursed together in a pout. He only smirks at you wickedly, adding another finger into you and holding still. You try to fuck yourself on his fingers, but he won’t have that.

“Thought you were gonna be my good girl,” Levi murmurs, palm flat against your hip.

“Mmm-please, baby,” You mumble, eyes beginning to fill with unshed tears, “I love you, please touch me-”

“Alright, angel,” Levi acquiesces easily. He only wants to please you, wants to maybe see you cry on his cock, come apart with his hand wrapped around your pretty throat. “You know I love you.”

Your eyes light up at that, pout dissolving into a soft smile. Levi kisses your thigh once more and dips his head in between your legs. You move your foot so it’s flat against Levi’s back for more leverage, letting out a loud moan when his tongue presses into your pussy. You rock your hips into his face, nearly choking at the sight of his dark hair in between your legs.

You don’t even realize how lewdly you’re calling his name, as he grinds his tongue into you as if you’re the sweetest honey he’s ever had.

Which you are. Because you’re his angel. You do well with being obedient, not allowing your hands to graze any part of him. So he looks up from in between your legs, your wetness dribbling down his chin and gives you a look that makes your pussy flutter.

“Good girl,” Levi murmurs and ducks his head down once more. The soft praise shoots straight down your spine and Levi tastes it. He threads his fingers through yours and you gasp at his touch, squeezing greedily.

“You feel so good, Levi,” You babble, “Love you, I love you so much-”

You cut yourself off with a wretched moan when Levi presses his tongue flat against your pussy and strokes you with two long fingers in you. Levi knows when you’re close, when your thighs begin to tremble and when you start babbling to him as you are now.

He pumps you slowly, alternating between slow and fast as you gush for him on his tongue. Levi groans in between your legs, the sound reverberating through you and he eagerly laps up another wave of wetness.

“Look at you, angel,” Levi murmurs, pulling his tongue away to play with your clit as he presses kisses on your inner thighs.

“Yours, ‘m yours,” You slur, “Please, baby, make me cum, I’m so close…”

And since you asked so nicely, the lilt of your voice coated with silky adoration for him and him only, he presses his tongue to your pussy once more. Your back arches instantly, thighs beginning to quiver when he sucks your clit and presses two fingers into you again.

“Levi, baby, please,” You beg with tears gathering in the corner of your eyes and dropping down your cheeks, “Love your mouth, love you so much. Wanna be with you always, wanna give you everything…”

God, he loves you so much. The way your eyes water when you’re close, the way you wrap around him perfectly like this. There’s nothing that can compare to your softness meshing with all of his rough edges.

“Cum, baby,” Levi murmurs hoarsely, scissoring his fingers inside of you. He shifts so that he’s over your frame, his fingers still inside of you and kisses you harshly. You taste yourself on his lips, moaning into his mouth. You don’t have the strength to pull away as your orgasm is within reach once more. You clench desperately around his fingers before he’s about to slide down your body again but you stop him.

“N-no,” You mumble, “Kiss me, want you to kiss me.” You yank him down to you, pushing your lips to his impatiently as you rock into his fingers. You look up at him with your lips parted and with heated cheeks, as he rubs your clit with his thumb.

“C’mon angel, cum for me,” Levi says, a soft demand. The headiness of his voice and his blown out eyes make your toes curl. With another few rubs of your clit with his thumb, stars explode behind your eyelids, your heart is about to beat right out of your chest and Levi holds you steady as you ride out your high.

Levi slides down your body to lap up your wetness and you close your legs instinctively from oversensitivity. Your thighs jump at his sudden touch over your clit and you try to shove him away but he pulls off of you himself, hovering above you and settling in your arms.

You give him a dazed, happy smile. Levi licks his lips, letting saliva gather on his tongue and presses his thumb to your chin.

“Open, angel,” He breathes. When you part your lips eagerly, red lipstick long smudged, he drops a ball of spit onto your waiting tongue and watches the bob of your throat as you swallow eagerly. Levi kisses you, coating your bottom lip with spit, just the way you like.

You grin at him, a little messy, a little in love. Levi’s cock jumps as he looks at you below him.

“You’re messy,” Levi says fondly, cradling your cheek.

“You like me messy,” You wink at him and wrap your legs around his waist to push him down to your chest. He rests his weight on top of you and you can feel the hard press of his cock against your thigh. You grind into him teasingly, lightly scratching at his undercut.

“I made dessert for you,” You say forlornly, “Made lemon tarts. With blackberries on top.”

“Lemme have you on top and then we’ll eat your tarts,” Levi says, earning himself a smack to the chest.

Levi carries you to his bedroom after that, and you don’t end up eating the lemon tarts until most of the city has fallen asleep and flurries begin to come down from the sky.

tags: @simpingmaize @captainchrisstan @alrightberries @bbygrgu @phen0l

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x you #snk x reader #aot x reader

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rahleeyah · 3 years

Note

Hi! I want to tell you I am in awe of your writing. It’s powerful and moving and so true to characters. I’m always curious…what is your writing “process?” If you don’t mind me asking!

Oh this is a great question!!! We haven't had a writing question in a while.

My process is not something I usually think about; when I first saw this question I was about to say something like mostly what I do is I just sit very still and let the words come out. And that's true but not fair; that's only one piece of the puzzle.

The first piece is routine. I write at the same time every day. Weekdays it's first thing when I come home from work, weekends it's first thing when I wake up. Always the same time, always sitting in the same place - on my porch, away from distractions, with fresh air and a glass of water and some smokes. That last part is not recommended.

It is hard to write if I miss a few days. One day is fine, but if I go more than 2-3 (which I don't think I've done since Christmas) I'll be out of step and it'll take a while to get back in the groove. So that's the practical part, is I've got a time and space set aside to write and that makes it easier.

The next piece I guess is where the ideas come from. I rewatch a lot. I find watching helps me keep the character voices, but it also helps me make new connections or find new moments to explore. I'll post thoughts here or share them with friends and the back and forth helps flesh things a lot. Most of the time an idea for a story is like a lightning strike; it feels as if it's come out of nowhere. But it isn't completely organic; I spend a lot of time thinking about ideas. In the shower, in the car, before bed, in snippets on tumblr. You have to cultivate the idea generating part of your brain. Sometimes I'll play with a story in my head for weeks and it won't go anywhere; sometimes the whole thing just appears fully formed in my brain like Jesus air dropped it to me. But you gotta be open to the spirit before the spirit can move you, you know?

So we have a place to write and we have an idea, how do we make a story?

A story is like a road. It is going from point A to point B and we gotta lay the pavers to get there. A story like hov is easy; it's set in canon so there's episodes to draw from, and there's a clear linear progression from not pregnant to pregnant to baby. There's a time frame and there's built in milestones. Something like let's take long way down, madam Jean, for example, is gonna be totally different, bc it isn't set in canon and there is no roadmap to get from strangers to happily ever after.

A lot of the time I don't look at the big picture bc it's overwhelming. It feels insurmountable, if I think about how many chapters it'll take and how much time it'll take. I'm eating this elephant one bite at a time, just like my mama said. So we write the first scene. The first paver that goes down is the Problem.

Not to be all freshman English class but every story is centered on conflict. Those conflicts can be anything; it doesn't have to be a "fight", an actual literally good guy vs bad guy. It just has to be an issue. Liv is pregnant but Elliot is her partner and they're not supposed to sleep together. Lucien works for the police but he's intrigued by the local madam. Eli doesn't know who Liv is and he's worried about his dad. Bernie Stabler shows up unannounced. All of these are Problems.

Once we have a Problem, we can start working on the Solution. We do this one step at a time. We do not rush.

So every day, I read over the last chapter I wrote. Where are we, what's happened, what are the Conflicts, what is the next logical step? How do we address it in one scene?

Lucien saw the madam, and she asked him to look after a pregnant girl. Ok now he has to go back to the brothel in the next chapter. That moves the timeline forward and moves us closer to the end goal, bc while Lucien is looking after the girl he talks to Jean, and we plant the seeds of them falling in love. It also gives us one piece of action to work on, one moment in time to write. I sit down, I write Lucien going to the brothel, I write him examining the girl and talking to Jean, boom there's one scene we're done. We tie those two things together; logical progression of Plot events, and the emotional undercurrent. I like it best when a chapter has both.

Themes come out naturally most of the time. Matrilineal, for example, was just me sitting down to write about Bernie and I used Amanda bc I love an outside pov. But as I was writing I'm thinking you know, Amanda has a complicated relationship with her mom. Shit, so does Liv. And they're both mothers now. And so is Bernie. And the emotional threads come out naturally as a result of who these people are. The piece wasn't gonna be about mothers but then it became obvious that it had to be.

Motifs appear the same way. The first chapter of bury my heart, I used this is love. That wasn't originally intentional, but when I did it the second time I thought there it is, and kept using it, and that's where the gut punch of the final line comes from; the meaning has changed from joy to sorrow and it is only impactful bc of the repetition and our previous connection to it.

I use a lot of imagery, and a lot of it tends to be religious - Jean is very Catholic, and so is Elliot, so for both Blake and svu there's room to play with it there. I like similes, I like metaphors, I like synecdoche - there's a fun one. I like to play with putting words together in different ways but that stuff doesn't happen in the car, or the shower, or on my lunch break; that usually only happens when I'm writing. I have to sit down and be still and let my brain go.

Conflict, themes, motifs, images, characters, these are the ingredients that make a story. And the more you work with them the easier they come. It just takes practice. But one of the best ways to improve is to read. See what's possible. See how other people have put words together. Someone commented once about how sometimes I say a lot with very few words; that is something I picked up from two very different places. Stephen King is great about short, simple, powerful sentences that knock your socks off. And there's a recurring line in my favorite series, the Belgariad, where when things are bad the man character goes to his aunt, who has raised him since he was a baby and is essentially his mother, and she holds him, and everything was all right again. It is a simple, repeated phrase about love, and comfort, and how no matter how terrifying the world can be, love brings healing and hope. There are quotes scattered throughout my work. Olivia quotes Heraclitus to herself in bury my heart; yes I am a classics major but my connection to that quote comes from the film the emperor's club. Inspiration is everywhere; draw on all of it.

This is. Probably more information than you were looking for but once I got started I couldn't stop.

#anonymous

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cherryyharryy · 3 years

Note

this request went above the character limit so basically the one with 🌸 is the continuation.. my request is basically an angst to fluff where y/n and harry are together the fans know it’s not confirmed but everyone knows they’re together and she’s been getting lots of hate recently and she’s frustrated and upset harry won’t defend her and she’s pestering him why in a fight and he says something along the lines of “ i don’t want people to know i’m with you” meaning he’s scared if he confirms...

don’t from the one ending in confirms .. he’s basically scared if he confirms y/n is his gf the hate will get worse but she takes it to mean he’s embarrassed by her and essentially gives him an ultimatum kinda ( idk a better word than that) of either he sticks up for her and tells them to stop hating on her or she’s breaking up with him bc she can’t be with someone who can’t bother defending her

*****

Thank you! I liked this idea, but I still feel like I suck at fluff lol. But I hope it’s okay

WC: 1.4K

*******

The starchy scent of cigarettes replaces the bite of pasta you slip into your mouth. You choke down the food and subtly cover your nose, although it does no good.

“Okay?” Harry squints across the table, the spring air catching on a few curls laced together across his forehead.

You nod, but roll your eyes, angling your head to the man sitting not far enough, with a coffee and ultra lights. His face is hidden by a newspaper when you turn to catch a look, smoke escaping from behind. “I can taste it.”

“Yeah that’s kinda rude.”

You wait a moment before speaking. “Yes. It is.”

When you look again, a plump, hairy arm extends across the table to dig the bud into a tea plate. You let your irritation slip away and continue eating, only to double up on your anger when you hear the flick of a lighter once again.

“I’m gonna ask him to stop.”

“Wait.” Harry catches your hand before you stand up. “We can just go inside.”

“What? No, we shouldn’t have to move because he’s being inconsiderate.”

“We’re outside, love, not much anyone can tell him.”

“I can tell him to stop being an ass.” You push away from the table, but Harry grabs your wrist.

“Baby, please, just let it go. Don’t start a scene.”

“A scene?” You settle back into your chair. “Are you kidding?”

“What?”

You suck in a breath, regretfully, as it’s filled with smoke. “Do you have any idea how many times you’ve said something like that to me in the past month?”

“I just don’t want you to draw unwanted attention to yourself.” He shrugs and sips his coffee. The tips of his ears are red, he’s clearly uncomfortable, but you’re in no mood to let him off. “Don’t want you to have to deal with it.”

“Is that so?”

He nods, unsure if answering you is what you even want.

“I’ve had to deal with a lot of shit,” you lower your voice and lean over the table, “and no one even knows for sure that we’re dating.”

“Shhhh.” You see his brows dip down below his sunglasses, frowning behind the tinted frames.

“Oh I’m sorry. Forgot how to act for a minute. Y’know, maybe you should write up a list of rules you want me to follow so I know how to behave.”

You don’t wait for a reply, successfully leaving the table this time as you march off the patio and towards Harry’s car parked down the block. In an alley. Where the two of you waited until foot traffic died down before going to lunch thirty minutes ago.

The door’s locked so you lean against it, shuffling your feet so you’re not in the sun, or in sight of any passersby.

The car beeps before you see Harry round the corner. His head is down until you’re both inside, turning the air on and pulling out onto the street without a word. Until he can’t take it anymore.

“Listen, I know I make things harder, but it’s only for security.”

“Security of what exactly?”

“Us…”

“I’m not sure what security you’re referring to, because I’ve gotten more death threats in the past two weeks than I would have liked.” You roll your head to look at him, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Know that.” He grips the wheel and exhales through clenched teeth. “But it could be worse.”

“I doubt that.” You pull up instagram and scroll through some of the latest comments you’ve gotten, looking for one in particular. Clearing your throat, you recite the message. “I don’t know why you bother with him. It’s sad, how clingy you are and obviously using him. How does it feel to have a dollar sign as a boyfriend? Pathetic. Use that car he gave you to do something useful and run yourself over.”

“Baby, please stop—”

“No, Harry, you have no idea what kind of fucked up things are sent to me. And we haven’t even confirmed anything!”

“I do know! You think I haven’t gotten shitty messages? Like I haven’t been through all this before?”

“Then what’s the point! Why even bother hiding our relationship if none of this goes away? It really hurts when you don’t at least stick up for me when someone makes a snarky comment when we’re in public. Girlfriend or not, I’m a human being, and you just let everything slide so we don’t cause a damn scene.”

“I do too stick up for you!”

“No you don’t! You just suggest we leave. One time you walked away and left me in the middle of a store.”

“I just don’t want people to know we’re together!”

Silence.

Not another word, not another sound until the gate to Harry’s private property screeches open and he pulls up to his house. You’re out of the car before it’s even parked, storming inside with no plan other than to get away from him before you say something you’ll regret.

He calls after you, your name echoing through his huge house, as you make your way up a set of stairs and into a guest room. You slam the door and fling yourself onto the bed, finally letting the tears fall.

He knocks at the door but doesn't wait for your answer, barging in with one last cry of your name. He deflates upon seeing you, crumbles upon hearing your sobs. “Baby.” His hand settles between your shoulder blades as he leans down to brush your hair from your face. “I didn’t mean it like that. Not like it sounds.”

“What the hell could you have meant?” Your words are choppy and tight, catching in your throat before you force them out. “If you’re not gonna defend me, then I can’t have this. Us. I’m not gonna be with someone who cares more about protecting the feelings of complete strangers than his own girlfriend.”

“I do care about you—”

“Like hell you do. That’s why you buy me all kinds of stuff. Make me over so I’m presentable. If you’re that embarrassed to be with me, why would you even ask me out?” A sob takes over. Harry tries rubbing your back, but you shake him off.

“What—embarrassed? The last thing I am is embarrassed. I’m proud to be with you. I love you, and I only buy you stuff because I can afford to do so.” You turn to face him, your vision blurred with tears. “Then why can’t you stick up for me? I’m not asking you to fight with everyone who leaves a negative comment, but something, Harry. I need someone who’s on my team.”

His voice stutters. Similar words he’s used before, referring to the two of you as a team, strike a nerve. He blinks away a few tears of his own. “You’re right. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry I’ve been letting you down.”

You shuffle up on your knees, encouraging him to join you on the bed, and in a hug. “You’ve never let me down. We just haven’t been on the same page with all this.” You sigh, wiping away a few remaining tears. “I understand why you haven’t wanted to say anything, but I think we’re past the point of keeping us a secret.”

“Was tryin’ to hold onto that as long as I could.”

You both climb off the bed, and Harry takes your hand, pulling you into his chest.

“We can have privacy without secrecy.”

He kisses your head. “May not be as private as you think.”

“I know…” You step back to look up at him, letting your hands slip down his arms to rest in his palms. “But it’ll take a little pressure off.”

His brows raise in thought, and he drops your hand to pull his phone from his jacket. Without a word, he scrolls through his photos until he finds one he likes, holding it up for you to see. “My favorite.”

Next thing you know, he’s posting the picture of you two from a few weeks ago—when you’d gone out to dinner with Jeff and Glenne, all dressed up with less than sober smiles on your faces—to Instagram.

“It feels weird now,” you mumble.

“Don’t tell me you change your mind?” Harry chuckles.

“No, no—I’m happy. Proud to call you mine.”

“Never gonna let you feel like I don’t have your back,” he leans down to kiss your nose, “ever. Promise.”

#requested #harrystyles #cherryyharryy #harry styles blurb #requests

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ackerfics · 3 years

Text

your eyes still shined, like pretty lights — mikasa ackerman

— mikasa ackerman x female reader (modern au)

— request by anon: ooh how about some childhood best friends to lovers with mikasa? also based from taylor swift’s mary’s song :)

— warnings: none? just too much fluff and a hint of angst :))

— summary: you never knew that being childhood best friends with mikasa would lead to you finding forever within her gray eyes.

— word count: 6.3k words

— author’s notes: i am so happy that this is my first request !! thank you for requesting this and i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i loved writing it. i never knew writing mikasa would evoke feelings i was so familiar with back when there were face to face interactions with people. i will be forever grateful for the request !! you are a gem.

i reposted this bc it seems like this didn’t appear in the tags :(( i hope this works now :”((

> just two kids, you and i

The scent of apple pies drifted across the Ackerman household, ensnaring the girl of black locks and starlit eyes inside her room on the second floor. It wasn’t a regular day in their neighborhood. For starters, there was a moving truck parked at the house beside them, men shouting for the furniture to be lugged inside the walls of the empty home one by one, and the quiet atmosphere was interrupted by what was ensuing in the neighboring house of the Ackerman’s. Mikasa, the only daughter of the household, wanted to satisfy her curiosity, which flared, even more, when her mother baked one of her special apple pies. Throwing away the homework her first-grade teacher gave them, the young girl padded across her room, opened the door with a bang, and ran towards the kitchen in an excited rush.

With wide eyes, she stood on her tiptoes and peered at the edge of the countertop. There was flour everywhere, or was it powdered sugar? Mikasa will never know unless she will have one taste of it. Just a little taste. And so she carefully reached out one arm to swipe the white ingredient off the counter.

“Mika, don’t even think about it.”

Mikasa froze in her tracks, looking up to meet her mother’s eyes. “But I wanted to know if this is powdered sugar.”

The older woman smiled endearingly at her daughter. “You could’ve just asked, you know? Besides, I think these apple pies are much better than the powdered sugar.” She turned to get one of the pies from the oven with her mittens, then facing Mikasa with a proud smile. “So what do you think? Will our new neighbors love it?”

“Everybody loves your pies, Mom.”

A laugh came from the woman’s lips, letting the delicacies cool down before putting them in a box for their neighbors to enjoy. What her daughter said was true. Every time the light of the Ackerman household baked treats for the neighborhood, she would always receive remarks that she needed to open her bakery, saying that every single one of her treats was divine. She wanted to open her bakery, even to the point of helping out one of her nephews who was starting to have a tea shop as a dream. Her daydreams were interrupted when she saw something move in her peripheral vision. Mikasa was once again reaching out to swipe the caramel apple toppings. “Mika, you will have your share later. For now, we’ll have to be patient, okay?”

The little girl pursed her lips in annoyance. She was getting tired of standing on her tiptoes anyway. She had nothing else to do — she ditched her homework, she was told to wait before eating the dessert, and she was bored out of her mind. The silence stretched on for a couple of minutes, all spent by Mikasa thinking hard on what interesting thing she should be focusing her attention on.

“You know, our new neighbors have a little girl your age, why don’t you introduce yourself to her?”

That was the only catalyst for little Mikasa to make her way to her room, getting the toys she wanted to show, as she brightened at the thought of making new friends. In her elementary school, nobody wanted to be friends with her, knowing that she was known for being blunt and introverted. She was trying her hardest but nobody lasted longer than a few months — they always found a new circle of kids to share their stories with and Mikasa will be left alone again. Her older cousin, Levi, always teased her (in the least condescending way possible) that she should get rid of that permanent frown on her face (like he was one to talk). But it was never Mikasa’s fault that their classroom was always stuffy, with the air conditioner not functioning well. Mikasa doesn’t like being cooped up in a room, sweaty because of the humidity. The little girl rather preferred the coolness of the library, which the other kids didn’t like at all. They wanted to have fun and run around the school’s playground the whole hour of their recess and lunch breaks.

So now, it was an understatement that Mikasa was excited. She even brought some of her toys with her to share with her new neighbor. She hoped the girl liked toy soldiers (it was a gift from Levi on her birthday last year).

The little girl her mother was talking about was sitting on the front porch swing bench.

You were smaller than she and Mikasa wondered how you ever sat in the high swing. Your head was hung down and it looked like you were coloring something, with the way your hands gripped the red crayon. The black-haired girl wanted to call out to you but she doesn’t even know your name. Taking a deep breath, the little girl of gray eyes mustered up her courage and tried quelling the pitter-patter of her heart.

Why was it beating so fast?

The moment she stepped on the lawn of the house next door, Mikasa was sure she was seeing the constellations in your eyes when you looked up to meet her expectant stare.

> take me back to the house in the backyard tree

Mikasa was eight when she had this crazy idea inside her head.

In the two years that the two of you were friends, you always talked about a little safe haven tucked from the eyes of the world. A place where the two of you can be yourselves. A place where magic can happen even in the smallest space. Your eyes would light up blindingly when you talked about the things you will put inside your safe space, Mikasa matching your starry eyes with her own, staring at you silently as you poured out your beautiful dreams to her. The last time the two of you had a sleepover, you were chattering about a hidden library that only opens at certain times at night. The next second, you were off narrating how the stars were the most amazing things that gave you comfort on nights where you miss one of your parents because they were working so late. Then, you were relaying the possibilities of having a little art studio where you’re not afraid of drawing one of your prompts.

Mikasa let you ramble with a smile on her face. She was always a listener, afraid that the shine in your eyes would die down when she would interrupt — you just look so beautiful. However, there were times where you asked her things like her hobbies and likes, almost as if you were listing them down in an imaginary notebook in your head, and it will always catch Mikasa off-guard. Stutters accompanied her answers to your questions, not used to being the center of attention when it should be you. You were just too bright and full of sunshine. When Mikasa mentioned this to you, you only grinned, “Then you’ll be my Moon, Mika. I’ll let you glimmer through the night.”

She never slept that night, staring at the moon through her open window while thinking about your words.

Now, her mission led her to her father’s study, face set in adorable determination.

“Mika? What brings you here?” Her father placed his hands on her waist, lifting her until she was situated on his lap. His focus immediately went to his laptop on his desk. Mikasa’s eyes went from her father’s face to the gadget’s screen. She knew her father’s job was something hard and fun at the same time but looking at what was displayed on the screen, she instantly thought that drawing houses was harder than it looks. There were lines that she never knew were supposed to be there, a sprinkling of equations not suited for primary school was scattered around the blueprint, making Mikasa dizzy enough to place a hand on her forehead. “Complicated, isn’t it?” Her dad asked her in amusement. “This is what your Dad does for a living, Mika.”

“You like drawing houses, right?” Mikasa looked up at her father, gray eyes twinkling.

Her father hummed, ruffling her hair before squinting at his laptop. “Yes, I do.”

“We have a big tree in the backyard, right?”

The man furrowed his brows. He looked down at his daughter who was still in a daze in front of his laptop’s screen. “Yeah, it’s pretty hard to miss, you know?”

Gray eyes matched his own as Mikasa lifted her head and squeezed her hands on her lap. “How about building a treehouse in our backyard?”

Her father’s sputter was the only thing she received as a reply but that didn’t stop Mikasa from smiling smugly, your haven becoming possible by the minute.

And nothing can compare to your star-struck face the moment you laid your eyes on your little castle with Mikasa months after it was finished.

The midnight-haired girl swore she once again saw the entire cosmos in your irises, sending her heart in a confusing tangle of beats.

> said you'd beat me up, you were bigger than me (you never did)

Mikasa was eleven when she realized that she will do anything for your happiness.

Friday afternoons were always reserved for your and Mikasa’s many traditions: watch the movies the two of you borrowed from the rental shop downtown, snack on Mikasa’s treats and your mom’s sandwiches, immerse yourselves in video games until dinner was called. It was a celebration for surviving the end of the week — something that kept the two of your going. Your mom never lets you watch television throughout the week, the time was only spent studying and focusing on academics, which must be why you were one of the top students in your primary school. Fridays were your breathers, it reminded you that there was still happiness lingering after a week of pouring everything to not disappoint your parents. And you were happy that you get to spend this with Mikasa of all people.

The movies you two watched were all romantic comedies that your mothers suggested. You were a crying mess while Mikasa only stared at the television with a blank face. She never understood how everything in the movie moved you so much when it was just a pair of people expressing how much they meant to each other. You have that in your life — your parents, your two friends who you recently introduced to her, your dog, and her. Mikasa has always told you how much you meant to her through the littlest of things, the animated little girl when you were kids becoming a soft-spoken pubescent that supported you with little actions. And now, Mikasa didn’t want to see you cry because it didn’t sit right with her. You should be smiling because that’s when you were the most beautiful for her.

“Here, figured the movie would make you cry,” the black-haired girl told you, pushing the box of tissues in your direction.

You sniffed, lips pursed and wobbly. You took out some tissues from the box and proceeded to blow your nose, Mikasa’s hand forming a pattern of soothing circles on your back. “They died together. It was so bittersweet.”

Mikasa thoughtfully stared at your hands that were fiddling with the box of tissues. “At least she remembered him.” She lifted her eyes to meet your teary ones, breath hitching and thoughts forgotten as she blinked at how the lights from the television made your irises have silver flakes on them. Looking away without moving her head, Mikasa cleared her throat. “But they can still do everything as long as they love each other. I guess it’s not a sad ending, it’s not a happy one, either. I think it’s fitting for the two of them.” She carefully reached out a hand and wiped away a stray tear at the corner of your eye, lingering her palm against your cheek. “But if the movie made you cry for varying reasons, it means you understand their feelings, of the characters, I mean. Plus, your tear ducts are still functioning.”

A bubble of giggles came from you. You stared at her with soft eyes that pinched Mikasa’s chest. “What would I do without you, Mika?”

“Probably die in a ditch or something.”

“Hey!” You playfully pushed her side, Mikasa’s slight chuckles tickling your ears. “That’s mean. I never knew our friendship could amount to a thing such as bullying.”

She ruffled your hair with a small smile. “It’s a once-in-a-blue-moon experience.” The black-haired girl then turned around, rummaging for something besides the box of movies you rented for the rest of the day. Two video games were presented in front of you with a faux look of seriousness painting your best friend’s face. “Now, how about we play some games to alleviate the sad atmosphere brought by the movie we just watched?”

“You’re on.”

A few rounds of racing games later and you were becoming agitated. Mikasa always won against you at any type of game you two dedicated your time on. At the moment, you were ranked second, meters away from Mikasa’s selected car model. You were always brushing off your poor gaming and strategic skills, blaming your loss on the equipment you picked, saying that the stats are the absolute worst because Mikasa always took the best-looking car in the choices. All of the cars present in the racing game were all good and it depends on the gamer on how they’ll manage with the listed specs. You maneuvered your red racing car to one of the shortcut routes, your side of the screen displaying a forest terrain that neither of you ever ventured in before. You can see Mikasa glancing at you from the corner of your vision, making you speed up, only for you to be thrown off course by some traps plugged in by the developers. There was a standby screen flashing in front of you, not knowing how Mikasa slowed her car.

When the countdown finished, your car was able to move again and this time, you tried to take it slow since Mikasa might have won the game by now. To your surprise, your name was the one displayed on the screen instead of your best friend. She was awarded third place instead of the second when you could’ve sworn she was just a few meters from the finish line. You looked at her curiously, wondering what happened.

She glanced at you before looking down on her controller thoughtfully. “I guess I messed up, too. I thought there are no traps in front of the finish line but it turns out a bomb was implanted at the side of the track.”

There were no traps in front of the finish line and your giddy smile was picture perfect as you celebrated your first win against Mikasa.

> i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

Mikasa was fourteen when she realized that her heart was beating for you, something that wasn’t appropriate between best friends.

“Okay, for this small party, we’ll be playing Truth or Dare!” Connie exclaimed, the smell of his father’s stash of beer coming out of his mouth.

Your little world with Mikasa extended and created a universe with unlikely people that you never imagined would be your friends.

It all started with Armin and Eren, the two boys who became your friends in primary school. Armin was one of the smartest people in your middle school, already getting a sure spot in your town’s high school, being the candidate for valedictorian. Meanwhile, Eren was one of the members of the school’s soccer team, which in turn brought along his teammates, Reiner and Jean. The latter person in Eren’s little circle in his soccer team claimed that he and his two friends, Sasha and Connie, were a package deal. It was funny because Sasha was befriended by you and Mikasa way before the two of you knew she had some connection with the soccer player. The brown-haired girl was your seatmate in History. When you heard her stomach grumble (the subject was set before lunchtime and everyone was practically hungry after the morning hours), you offered your bar of chocolate to her. There you found your other best friend, her hugs and gushes of ‘I love yous’ made the first interaction unforgettable.

The small party held in Connie’s house was thrown because you were all graduating the following week. The short boy was ecstatic while planning out the mini-event, even threatening to kick out Sasha when she became hungry while preparing the snacks. Since the party was not limited to your friend group, Reiner invited some of his friends — Annie, Bertholdt, and Ymir. Connie was overjoyed that he was finally getting popular, to which Ymir shut down, saying that she needed the booze (she fought with Historia, her on-off girlfriend, leading to their nth break-up).

“Ugh, man,” Eren groaned. “Do you even remember what happened the last time we played Truth or Dare?”

Jean snorted. “Nobody asked you to do the dare, idiot. You could always take the shot.”

“Well, I don’t want to smell like booze when I go home, horse face. Mom’s going to kill me.”

“Who in their right mind would jump into the freezing lake naked then, Eren?”

You chuckled, remembering how Eren talked your ear off when he went home after his retreat with the soccer team. He claimed that his dick was numb to the point that he couldn’t feel anything while jerking off. Mikasa had to cover your ears while he went to that part and Armin was begging for the brown-haired boy to stop tainting his mind.

“Okay, can you guys stop arguing for just one minute?” Sasha pleaded through a mouthful of hash browns. “I’ll start spinning the bottle now!”

The game started quite well. Armin had to perform a dance number in front of all of you because Sasha wanted to let everyone know how awesome Armin was at dancing. Jean chose truth and was asked who he found hot among the girls his year. (Nobody missed his subtle glance at Mikasa, who was focused on the drink in her glass.) Reiner was asked who he last hooked up with and surprisingly, he downed a shot instead of answering. When Sasha chose dare, Reiner thought it was a good idea to witness the girl put as many marshmallows in her mouth without stopping. (Sasha managed to empty the bag.) Annie was dared to text her crush and the next second, Armin’s phone dinged with an incoming message. You and Sasha cooed at the blonde boy’s burning face. Mikasa also chose truth and drank her shot when she was asked by Annie about the person she likes. (Jean perked at this but quickly deflated when the black-haired girl held no hesitation in drinking the shot.)

Then, the bottle landed on you.

Your eyes met with Mikasa, knowing that she will be the one asking the infamous question of ‘truth or dare?’

“Dare.”

Sasha and Connie ooh’d at the background.

“I dare you to kiss the person you’re thinking about a lot.”

It was a masked question. Mikasa wanted to ask you about your recent crush but she had to be conspicuous about it. Of course, she noticed how you and Eren became close these days. Always sitting with each other during lunch and how the green-eyed boy always offered his jacket whenever you felt cold. She had to confirm it. She didn’t want Armin to pick up on her nerves every time she witnessed how Eren looked at you like you placed the stars in the sky. She was only worried for you since Eren had the most experience when it comes to dating among the four of you, having only dated one person the whole duration of middle school.

However, Mikasa didn’t expect you to place a hand on her cheek, your face inches from hers.

The entire circle became silent, jaws dropped at the scene unfolding in front of their eyes. Mikasa didn’t pay them any attention. Her eyes were wide while yours were hesitantly trained on her lips. She didn’t register that you whispered along the lines of only kissing her cheek. Her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest. Her face was burning with a beautiful shade of rouge. Her mind was muddled, panicking that you were so close to her. Mikasa remembered the times you left her breathless. They were unexpected moments that only occurred in a mundane situation but it was you. You were different from the people in Connie’s house right now. You were a force to be reckoned with, always interrupting Mikasa’s focus during class because you were there in her thoughts. You were a sight to behold, having a fair share of admirers, one of them being Mikasa, to which she was never aware until now. You were everything held tightly in a small body that fit exactly against Mikasa's when the two of you hug after a bad day.

You were so beautiful.

But Mikasa couldn’t handle the continuous pounding of her heart.

She turned around and immediately darted to the bathroom, leaving you frozen along with your gawking friends.

Oh, how Mikasa regretted running away the moment the door was flat on her back.

> take me back to the time we had our very first fight

Mikasa was eighteen when she heard the words she dreamed of coming from your lips.

“Why don’t you go back to Eren?” Mikasa grumbled, her eyes glaring at the road in front of her, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. “Why would you even go home with me? He was offering to drive you back and you’re here sitting in my car.”

There was no reason why she was being angry right now. The past years in high school were pure torture for Mikasa and the soccer game that happened hours prior was the cherry on top of the sundae. When their school’s soccer team won at the final game of the seniors, she had to watch Eren pick you up, laughing while twirling you around. Everybody knew how much Eren liked you since he wasn’t afraid of expressing his feelings to a crowd of people. However, even with Eren’s efforts of wooing you, you always brushed it off, saying that he is still one of your best friends. There was no denying that Eren was courting you with the whole school as the witness. It was like a love story waiting to hit its climax — two childhood friends intertwining their fates together until they found forever with each other.

Mikasa had to suppress a groan at the thought. Maybe she watched too many romance movies to think straight at the moment. She honked the horn too loudly, making you flinch in the passenger seat. Her gray eyes were a raging storm and even the biker at the side of the street wasn’t safe as she turned her head to the window, shouting, “Hey, there’s a bike lane for a reason!”

“Mika, calm down,” you pleaded.

She scoffed in disbelief, remaining silent even though you were expecting to hear her answer.

“Why are you so angry right now? I don’t know how to fix this if you’re going to be so quiet over it.”

The car stopped in front of your house and you didn’t even notice how Mikasa practically broke the speed limit. It was a good thing there weren’t any cops doing their patrols on your side of town. Now that there was finally time for you to ask her questions, you turned to face her. You pursed your lips at the sight of her stony visage, face still so beautiful that it made your sketches of her look like nothing.

Mikasa has been ignoring you the past few weeks. You noticed that it was only when Eren was around. You looked away at the thought, heart-pounding that maybe Mikasa finally realized her feelings for the green-eyed boy. You never fail to notice how she was constantly hovering around the boy, reminding him of the schoolwork he was missing or his forgotten lunch. It always squeezed your chest too hard.

You tried reaching for her hand, only to be swatted away. “Mika,” you whispered brokenly.

“Do you like Eren?”

Oh, so that was it.

You schooled your expression in a blank one, licking your lips in nervousness. She wanted to make sure there was nothing between you and Eren so that she can finally tell him her feelings. “Why are you asking that?”

“Stop answering my questions with another question.”

You had enough of this. “Then what do you want me to say?”

Mikasa threw her hands up in the air, shrugging her shoulders in disbelief. “I don’t know! Your honest answer, I guess. It seems to me like you do like him. With you, all cuddled up with that long-haired idiot every single day. Is it the long hair? Do you like people with long hair? If that’s the case, I’ll grow my hair! Just give me a few years at most.”

You looked at her in confusion and frustration. “What are you talking about, Mikasa?”

She flinched. You never called her by her full first name. It was always Mika for you. She was always Mika for you. You were the only one allowed to call her that aside from her parents. Mikasa turned abruptly, taking you by surprise as she placed both of her hands on your arms, firmly grasping them to make you meet her desperate eyes. “I’m just making sure that you don’t like him because...” She faltered, not knowing what to say next. Is she even confessing to you right now? Years of pent-up feelings beginning to rise and overflow because of the stars gradually appearing in your eyes. Her mouth was running on its own and she was beginning to feel the shame bubbling in her stomach.

“Because … Eren is not the only one who looks at you like you placed the stars in the sky. He’s not the only one wanting to keep you warm on a cold day. He’s not the only one experiencing euphoria whenever you’re around.” She blinked away the tears building in her eyes.

“He’s not the only one in love with you.”

“You are so dense, you know?”

“What?”

Mikasa reeled back but your hands finding their way on top of hers stopped her from backing away any further. Now, you were the one looking at her like she created the entire universe in front of your eyes. You were looking at her like she’s the first snowflake making its way on top of your nose. You were looking at her like those times you were inside your treehouse, under the fairy lights hung on the walls. You were looking at her as if she was euphoria personified. Because she is. Mikasa is so breathtakingly ethereal, your surroundings becoming more transparent by the minute as you focused on her. Gently transferring your hands on her cheeks, you pulled you close until both of your foreheads were tenderly pressed against one another.

“It’s you.”

Her breathing hitched.

“It has always been you, Mikasa Ackerman. Since that day you rejected my kiss when we were fourteen.”

Tears became more prominent in both of your eyes.

“Not Eren or anybody who was rumored to be going out with me.”

She closed her eyes tightly.

“I’m in love with you.”

Mikasa opened her eyes, revealing the entire cosmos you adored.

“I love you and only you.”

It’s not a dream, the two of you sharing your first kiss that was more than what the movies described.

> they never believed we'd really fall in love

Mikasa was twenty when she had the courage of telling the entire world you’re the love of her life.

“Oh, my God, I knew it!” Sasha screeched inside the café you and Mikasa chose to have your group study session. Most eyes inside the café turned to your table since Sasha planted her hands on your table with enough force to attract attention. You laughed nervously and apologized to some of the people inside the café but the brown-haired girl still showed no signs of sitting down. You can see Mikasa placing a hand on her forehead, sighing at the third member of your trio. Sasha, however, was experiencing the milestone of a lifetime. She flickered her gaze between you and your girlfriend, eyes sparkling in obvious excitement and adoration. “And thank God you two finally got together! I had to endure Mikasa moping around during high school.”

“We are dating for two years now,” Mikasa dryly stated. “We didn’t get together recently.”

You placed a gentle hand on hers, smiling at the black-haired girl before turning to Sasha. “We tried keeping our relationship a secret for two years but judging from your first statement, it seems like we couldn’t conceal it that well.”

Sasha finally sat down, picking up her fork with some unattended carbonara on her plate. “I had a hunch. Well, not only me, Connie and I. Ever since I got to know you, [Name], I always admired your friendship with our Mikasa here.” She pointed her fork at you and Mikasa. “Yes, Mikasa treated all her friends in some special way. For me, she tells me not to eat too much.” Mikasa eyed Sasha’s plates of lunch. “For Armin, she tends to be gentler, I mean, you know Armin, softest boy on the planet. For Eren, she’s like his mother.”

“Somebody has to do it.” Mikasa rolled her eyes, making you laugh. “He never listens to Carla any more.”

“But for you, missy,” the brown-haired girl leaned forward with a teasing smirk, “Mikasa becomes all of these. Who would’ve ever thought that that childhood friend story circulating between you and Eren became you and Mikasa instead?” She leaned back and shrugged. “I never liked Eren for you anyways.”

“Same,” the black-haired girl simply stated, taking a bite of her pizza before offering you some. “I heard you wanted this café’s pizza.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking a bite of the pizza Mikasa was holding in front of you. “Annie’s right, the pizza in this restaurant tastes amazing.” You felt your girlfriend’s thumb brushing at the corner of your lips, wiping the pizza sauce smeared there.

The brown-haired girl sitting in front of you two squealed with hands covering her mouth. “You two are so cute together!” Yours and Mikasa’s face flushed, making Sasha gush again. The gray-eyed girl sighed deeply, placing her head on your shoulder to cover her red face, making you laugh at how adorable your partner is. “Wait, have you talked about this to your parents?”

You and Mikasa looked at each other, that Thanksgiving dinner flashing through your minds at the moment.

You were supposed to be enjoying the scrumptious feast your and Mikasa’s mothers prepared but you and your girlfriend were too stiff to participate in the casual talk flittering the table. The previous night, Mikasa opened the idea of telling your parents that you were dating each other. At first, you disagreed because you have seen how this would affect Mikasa. There was a time where some old woman looked at you two while you were on a date, yelling that you two should break up and find some man instead of finding comfort with the same sex. The black-haired girl nearly broke down when you arrived at your shared apartment and you reassured her that their opinions shouldn’t matter as long as you have each other. But now, these are your parents, of course, their perception of your relationship will always matter. Those worries soon vanished when your fathers rejoiced, the negative thoughts replaced with tears of relief rolling down on your and Mikasa’s cheeks.

“It’s about time, you know,” your dad smiled.

“We were supposed to place a bet but we were scolded,” Mikasa’s father sheepishly admitted.

“You shouldn’t bet on the girls’ relationship!” Mikasa’s mother replied, her playful expression turned soft when she turned to you two. “Don’t ever think we would go against this. We have been watching you two grow up and we always knew that there was a possibility that you’ll come into terms with your feelings for one another.”

Your mom perked up with glee visible on her face. “So … when’s the wedding?”

You shared a laugh with the love of your life. “They’re planning a wedding as we speak.”

“Make me one of your bridesmaids please!”

“I think you’re suited to be [Name]’s maid of honor instead.”

“Hell yeah!”

> we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee

Mikasa was twenty-three when she knew you are the constant in her life.

Graduation was only a few months ago and you have never felt so happy in your life. Gone were the days slumped in front of your laptop way past midnight trying to perfect your thesis papers. Gone was the day where caffeine was the only thing keeping you going during exams. Gone were the days you had laboratory periods that span the whole half of the day. All the stress was piling up on your shoulders the past four years, molding themselves in a huge ball that made you think you carried the entire world as Atlas did. Now you got your degree and you were ready to settle with the person driving the car with ease along the road leading to your neighborhood. As you stared at her side profile, you smiled, knowing that she has been in every part of your life, in your downtimes and zeniths brought by your achievements. You vaguely remembered how the car stopped in front of Mikasa’s house, the two of you immediately making your way towards their backyard.

Years of care were seen in her mother’s flower and vegetable garden but the only thing that took your breath away was the treehouse she surprised you with when you were both eleven. You blinked at the pristine condition of the small castle in the canopy of green, your smile pulling on the corners of your lips. “I can’t believe it’s still here.” A hand made its way on the small of your back, its warmth seeping through your French chiffon floral dress. You looked up at Mikasa, her casual ensemble of her gray suit and white shirt sending your heart in a frenzy. You pulled on her collar, your lips meeting hers in a slow dance, her hand on your back transferring around your waist.

When you pulled away, Mikasa placed her forehead against yours, her breath tickling your face. “Let’s visit our castle, shall we?”

The inside of the treehouse was still the same as ever. Aside from the thick layer of dust covering every surface of the small abode, it still gave the same feeling when you first laid your eyes on it. The knick-knacks you and Mikasa placed were still in the same position as you left them. The star projector you brought when you were thirteen was placed in the middle of the treehouse. You made your way to it and a sea of stars filled the crevices of the treehouse after gently turning it on. A myriad of purples and blues painted themselves on the ceiling, swirls of galaxies accompanied the constellation map you knew by heart when you were a kid. You faced Mikasa, only for your breath to hitch at the sight of her kneeling on one knee on the dusty floor. The first thought coming to your mind was how the dust would cling to her gray slacks. But that quickly erased itself when Mikasa tenderly presented a small velvet box.

“You made me believe in love, magic, myself, and the universe,” Mikasa whispered things meant for your ears only. “The way you love me and the way I look at you makes life worth living. Every single minute I’ve spent with you, I wanted to stop time to preserve it in my memory. I wanted to swim in your divine because I swear, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I promise to give you everything to make you the happiest woman in the world. I’ll still look at you like the stars that shine no matter how many years go by. You deserve the very best, someone who will back you up without limits, let you grow without borders, and love you without end. So, [Name],” she opened the small box, revealing the most beautiful piece of jewelry — a golden band with a sparkling diamond at the center of smaller gems shaped like stars, at the sides of the huge gem were crescent moons, “will you let me be the one?”

You were crying now, you never thought that this would happen.

The woman of your dreams was kneeling in front of you and there was only one answer that will seal your fate with hers.

“Yes, Mikasa, always and forever.”

> we'll rock our babies on that very front porch

Mikasa was twenty-five when she wanted a small family with you.

“How about using Eren?”

“Mika, why would you suggest that!”

“I mean, he has the hots for you.”

“I can’t believe you’re selling me to one of our friends.”

“Don’t leave my side. Here’s a kiss as an apology.”

“You’re lucky I love you, Mika.”

“And I love you, too.” Mikasa paused, turning the laptop to you as she opened the tab for one website she found. “How about adopting a toddler?”

You looked at a website displaying one of the orphanages in the city, chest filled with butterflies at the next step in your life with Mikasa.

“I think that’s a perfect idea, Mika.”

“I think so, too, Mrs. Ackerman.”

#aot #new aot writing blog #aot x reader #attack on titan #snk #snk x reader #mikasa #mikasa ackerman x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #rorywrites

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kim-monsterlings · 3 years

Note

Hello! Is it okay if I ask for a monster match? If it isn't just delete request!

So em... Biologically I'm a/my pronounce is a she/her. I'm 5'3 or 5'4 (not sure). I'm a heterosexual (but I look gay as f-). I love studying arts (music, architecture and etc.). A bit of history nerd and sometimes (almost every time) overthinker. I keen watching TV shows, anime, documentaries and honestly anything. I'm a wierd combo of introvert & extravert. Prefer staying at home and living my 'raccoon in the dumpster' life. Veeeeery touchy (with concent ofc). That type of a person to hold a frog, call it Garry and claim that it's your knew friend. (Love snakes, spiders and a lot more of wild animals that a lot of people dislike). Good looking flying living creatures are my weakness.

A bit about my look (spoiler I'm fabulous) ((maybe)). I have short dark brownish hair. Blue and green eyes. Small chest and a good looking 🍑. Prefer mens clothing (POCKETS AND FREEDOM TO THE WAIST) but I don't mind feminine.

I'm searching for someone a bit of opposite of me (looking opposite too but honestly doesn't really matter), so he could push me sometimes when I get too lazy or smt. And sometimes to walk me bc my home is my fortress (again home dumpster racoon). Preferably WAY taller then me (I need a pillow). Someone that can tolerate my sometimes (a lot of times) childishness. I don't really care about what type of monster he is. As long as he ok with me being me.

Thank you ahead! ♥️💓

Levi - M Harpy x F Human (Reader) // SFW Monster Match

Anon monster match <3 I hope you love him!

Matches under the read more!

Content: SFW/Citrus; flirting, intimate embraces (cuddling, kissing), mentions of dating/courtship, creating a nest, use of endearment “sweetheart”, allusions to sexual intimacy

Masterlist // Monster Match Info + Masterlist // My Ko-Fi

Headcanon

Levi approached you first.

Though after his confession of being captivated by you - returning to the old museum in the hopes of stumbling into you once again, no recollection of him came to mind, and you would have remembered him.

Who wouldn’t?

Delicately feathered, shimmering with navy tips and darkened to near ebony closer to his chest. Long legs with talons clicked on the polished floor, but only the presence settling carefully beside you had roused you from staring toward the hanging artwork.

As rare as days out were of your own volition, you would never tire of reading the plaques and learning more with each visit. You hadn't moved for almost an hour when soft feathers tickled against your arm and in his attempt to create distance, they ruffled and stroked closer.

He may have approached you first with his chest puffed out and his head turned to focus only on you, but you were the one to speak, undeterred from staring at the wall opposite.

"Do you like it? This piece?"

His breath left him in a quiet exhale, enough to finally lure your attention to the broad expanse of his frame - failing in curling himself smaller, tracing the gentle sloping of his forehead down to his nose with a warmer stare.

In a voice as gentle as him, the stranger, as he was then, rasped, "sorry?"

"It's nothing special, is it?"

Rising from the low bench had you leaning against him - for the slightest and most fleeting of moments, relishing in the heat of his feathers, before he stood with you.

So close, his wing extended like a guiding arm, you couldn't help but reach to trace over them until he trembled.

Overstepping hardly made the best first impression, with little idea of how sensitive his wings may be, but the harpy stepped closer, lips curling. "Walk around with me?"

Your decision was made even before asking, "how much do you know of the artwork?"

"Very... very little."

"Perfect."

Many afternoons passed in a close embrace, though you were hesitant to have him accompany you home. For however much you adored a day out, you loved time spent indoors far better, and the evening came around by your invitation to share your favourite films with him.

Even still, you doubted he enjoyed them.

(You had a slight suspicion he watched them not only to have you tucked against him, but to see your delight in whispering the memorised script.)

The incredibly brief tour of your open-plan home led you into your bedroom to change into something comfier, hesitating there too long.

You returned to a sight you'd never forget, and one reinforcing the love you had for him.

"Do you mind?"

Levi bounced unsteadily on his thin legs, surrounded by a mess of cushions and blankets; a hastily arranged nest. Using those same sheets you had readied earlier on the sofa, too, and you were struggling for words.

"We've had our days out," he murmured, extending an arm to draw you close. "Now, I just want you. Is that okay?"

You tiptoed to whisper, "perfect."

Drabble

Some weeks felt longer than others. Little could rouse you now beyond the dimensions of your bed - not even the quiet ringing of your phone. The screen would brighten with the warm photo of dappled feathers, your boyfriend reminding you of your plans for the day.

You hadn't forgotten.

He never left your mind.

Though the gentle knocking at your door made you turn deeper into your pillows. When the door creaked open, your smile tucked into the sheets soon to be pulled from your body.

Not too long ago - not long enough after your first date, really, you had gifted Levi a key of his own. His courtship passed quickly and you were smitten, but he had opened the hastily folded tissue paper and frowned.

"Oh. Oh, I... thank you."

By reflex alone, you moved to snatch the key, already rasping, "it was a mistake-"

Feathers tickled your cheeks, lips soft against yours. His laughter never failed to soothe your nerves and he spread his arms wide around you. "I already have a key. I walk you home almost every night. Who do you think unlocks the door?"

With it official then, it warranted a sweeter kiss, and the same greeted you now with warm hands coaxing you from the sheets. His quiet sigh resonated like a sharp twinge in your chest until you remedied it by stroking up through his feathered chest, just how he liked.

"You coming out today, sweetheart?"

Little more than a whine was your answer, a pout beckoning a kiss. Routine warned of quiet tutting - of pleading and compromise (often in your favour), but today you wanted nothing more than to finish the documentary you started the other night with him, not to go outside.

Arms slipping beneath you earned a scowl. "I'm not going."

Levi grinned. "Looks like you're going somewhere."

This became the compromise; an understanding that though you loved to waste the day drowsy and warm, the nest he added to with every visit in your lounge welcomed you both. There was less chance of talons dragging against your legs, and more space for him to nestle tight.

"We'll have a quiet day today," he murmured. "Next weekend, we're going somewhere nice. My treat - you can't say no."

"We'll see." Levi pinched your waist and you smothered your smile into his wing, only for it to widen when his breath caught. You slipped your fingers lower down his stomach. "That's next weekend. Right now, we're laying together, and I still have too many clothes on. Want to help with that?"

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writesowhatnext · 4 years

Text

what’s a little healthy competition? // oliver wood

Summary: Oliver Wood loves two things in this world: Quidditch and Hufflepuff!reader

Request: Have you ever thought of making an Oliver Wood or Percy Weasley oneshot? Maybe the reader is a bubbly and an outgoing hufflepuff and just pure fluff?

A/N: thank you for requesting oliver oml I love him (I chose him over percy bc I like him more)

Reader: unspecified, Hufflepuff

Warnings: none, I think?

“Did you hear, George? Harry’s our new seeker,” Fred said at the Gryffindor table during lunch, smirking.

“Nice one, Harry. So, you’ve met Wood then,” George continued, mirroring his brother’s expression.

“Yeah. He’s very…” Harry trailed off, frowning.

“Intense?”

“Mad?”

“Obsessed?”

“Deranged?”

“Scottish?”

George snorted at Fred, clearly impressed with the last description. Harry nodded slowly, remembering the way Oliver had wrestled that moving ball to the ground as if it was alive.

“All you need to know about Wood, Harry,” Fred started, crossing his arms. “Is that he loves two things in this world.”

“Quidditch,” George raised one finger, shooting a look at Fred before raising another. “And Y/N.”

Harry’s frown deepened as Ron sat down next to him, clearly disgruntled about something or other.

“Y/N? Who’s Y/N?”

George pointed behind him at the Hufflepuff table where Oliver was sat with someone he didn’t recognise, obviously a Hufflepuff themselves.

“Word to the wise, Harry,” Fred said, his smile audible even as Harry looked the other way. “You thought hearing Wood go on about Quidditch was bad, wait ‘til you get him started on Y/N.”

Oliver Wood, you had discovered in your fourth year, was an extremely competitive person. The first time you met him was on the pitch before your very first game as Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, a title you were honoured to be given.

“You two ready?” Madam Hooch asked, blinking at you with her yellow eyes. You nodded and turned to Oliver, decked out in his ruby red Gryffindor robes. He was tall, you noted, and more handsome than you’d anticipated.

“I hope you have a good game!” you said, smiling. He was struck by the lack of malice in your voice and the sweetness of your smile and for a moment, he forgot he was about to play Quidditch.

“You too,” he said quietly, frowning.

“Wood?” Madam Hooch said, growing impatient.

“Yes,” he said, before coughing and lowering his voice. “Ready.”

Your smile widened listening to his accent and almost immediately you took a likening to the guy.

Never in your life had you been as glad to be a chaser than in that match. Scoring goals was a speciality of yours, it had to be, really, and so you found yourself on your broom, opposite the Gryffindor Captain, with a quaffle in hand on more than one occasion. He was good, you’d have to give him that, and though he seemed to want to focus very hard on the game at hand, you noticed him watching you every so often. Whenever you scored, soaring into his blind-spots and catching him off guard, you’d shoot him a wink and relish in the delightfully bashful way he’d smile and look anywhere but you. It was a fun match and you didn’t even mind that their seeker caught the snitch.

You congratulated your team on their efforts, trying to turn their disappointed frowns upside down.

“Don’t worry, guys. You played incredibly and it was the most fun-“

Someone clearing their throat behind you drew your attention. Standing there, flushed and cheerful from his victory, was Wood, the Gryffindor captain.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, leaning forward and swallowing nervously, maybe because of you, maybe because of your audience. “I just didn’t catch your name… before, when we started the match.”

You smiled and he swore the clouds parted.

“Y/N. My name’s Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N,” he stood up straight, smirking a little with a new-found confidence. “You were excellent out there.”

“Clearly not as excellent as you,” you replied. He was pleasantly surprised at the lack of bite to your teasing.

“Well,” he smiled, looking to the ground and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “You did knock in a few blinders.”

“Cheers, Wood-”

“Oliver,” he said softly, mirroring your sweet smile.

“Oliver.” You repeated, enjoying the shape of his name on your tongue. “Your team played a brilliant game.”

You sent him one last grin before turning around, getting back to your players. He nodded at your back, exhaling rather shakily and returning to his celebrating team, trying to contain his smile.

He didn’t see you again until a few weeks later when he was taking his team out to practice on the field. You, with your bright yellow robes and radiant grin, were coming the opposite way, your own team in tow. Despite your eccentric coloured uniforms, you almost bumped into each other at the corner of the courtyard.

“Oh! Sorry,” you said, stepping back and meeting the eyes of none other than Oliver Wood.

“Not a bother,” he couldn’t help his immediate grin upon seeing you again before a frown creased his features. “Are you heading out to practice?”

“I noticed no one was out there so, I figured I would haul my team together.”

“We were thinking the same, actually.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment, both your teams uncharacteristically quiet at the standoff. You caught the eye of one of the Weasley twins, not unaware of his shit-eating grin.

“Well-“ you began, frowning.

“You can practice, we’ll book it another time,” Oliver said, earning a round of groans from his teammates.

“You sure?”

He enjoyed the way your eyes lit up at his offer and was eager to recreate it as many times as he was able.

“Of course,” he said, a smirk lifting his cheek. “You need the practice, anyway, don’t you?”

Your mouth dropped open at his teasing, tonguing your cheek and asjusting your grip on your broom.

“I’m going to let that go,” you whispered, leaning closer to him. “Because you are being so very kind.”

You stretched to your tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, enjoying the way his skin flushed under your touch.

“See you around, Oliver,” you smiled, walking past him to the pitch, your team following, whispering between themselves. As you left, quite pleased with yourself, you heard the Gryffindor team erupt into teasing jeers, only serving to widen your grin.

It was a week later that you strolled up to the Gryffindor table, trying to suppress your grin at the sight of Oliver in his coned hat.

“You alright there, Y/N?” one of the twins asked when they saw you, drawing attention to your approach.

“Cracking game yesterday,” the other added with a grin.

“Cheers, boys.”

“How’re you doing today, Y/N?” Oliver asked, turning around on the bench to face you, an easy smile on his lips.

“Brilliant, actually. I’d be even better if you asked me to Hogsmeade.”

Your response stunned him into silence for a second before a smile tugged at his lips.

“Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

“What a fantastic idea; I thought you’d never ask.”

With that, you kissed your teeth and nodded, trying to hide your smile.

“I’ll swing by your common room at eleven?”

“Sounds perfect.”

That Hogsmeade trip was the best one you’d ever had, filled to the brim with laughing and talking and smiling. He even held your hand, his little finger fishing for yours until it curled around it, far too sweet to be casual. He showed you all the secret places you didn’t know about and in turn, you got him a discount at Honeyduke’s, thanks to the owner being a family friend. In all, it was almost the perfect date. He walked you back to Hogwarts, hand in hand, chatting the whole time. You could listen to him for hours, his accent like music to your ears.

“Oliver?” you asked, interrupting his rant about some Charms essay as you reached the castle. You turned towards him, grabbing both of his hands.

“Yes?”

“You know what would make this date even better?”

A smirk played on his lips.

“I could hazard a guess.”

With not a single moment’s hesitation, he leant forward and kissed you. Chaste, light and sweet, you couldn’t help but grin. You nudged him with your shoulder when he mirrored your expression and you started pulling each other along through the castle corridors, hand in hand. The start, you decided, of a very lovely relationship.

You and Oliver had been together about a year when Harry Potter ran into you in the corridor, scattering papers and ink pots and feathers everywhere.

“Oh!” you huffed, reaching to grab him before he fell backwards. You were much taller and much older than him and you’d almost sent him flying backwards. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, reaching down to collect loose pages of what looked like a Transfiguration essay. “It was my fault.”

He frowned when he looked up at you, staring far too long at your face. You realised, at that moment, that you had nearly body-slammed Harry Potter, the boy who lived.

“You know Wood, don’t you?”

You snorted, a smile playing on your lips.

“I should hope so,” you said, scraping together pieces of blank parchment and offering them to him. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh, I know.”

You raised your eyebrow in a silent question.

“He never shuts up about you.”

You exhaled sharply out of your nose, unable to hide your smile. Oliver could be such an idiot sometimes.

“I can tell him to stop-“

“No!” Harry insisted, his eyes growing wide. You raised your eyebrows at his shout, mouth parting into an incredulous smile. “If he’s not talking about you, he’s talking about Quidditch.”

You rolled your eyes, pursing your lips and nodding.

“That I can understand.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking around awkwardly. You chuckled, remembering how scared you would’ve been had a fifth year talked to you as a first year.

“You’re a great seeker, Harry,” you called, walking away to save him the awkwardness. “Keep it up.”

It wasn’t until your quidditch match against Slytherin that same day that you saw your boyfriend, all frantic eyes and incomprehensible muttering.

“I heard you’ve been talking about me,” you said, crossing your arms across your yellow robes and smiling. His muttering about your team and the game-plan ceased immediately and his brows dropped into a hard frown.

“Who said that?”

“So, you do talk about me!”

“Well…”

You shot him a dry look.

“Of course, I do,” he said, pulling you closer to him by the hand until you were chest to chest. “I’m completely in love with you.”

Your face heated up at his words and you were sure he could feel it as his hand cupped your cheek and he pressed his lips against yours.

“That’s a lot of sweet talk,” you whispered, your nose knocking against his as you pulled away. He tilted his head to the side, shrugging as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s sort of what I’m known for.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, of course. What else?”

“Your competitive streak?” you offered, pulling away so you could finish putting on your quidditch uniform. “The accent? Slight quidditch obsession?”

You could’ve carried on but he rolled his eyes, messing with your robes as you turned back to him. He adjusted your collar, letting his hands rest on your shoulders.

“Now,” he said, shooting you a smile. “Who’s the best quidditch player in the world?”

“Me?” you asked, knowing full well it would not be you.

“No,” he smiled. “That’s me. You, however, are a close second. And so, you’re definitely going to win today.”

“You think?”

“Oh, of course. You’re the best chaser I’ve ever seen. The most beautiful too.”

You tilted your head, expression dry. He shot you a charming grin.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Indeed, I am. Your idiot, though.”

You folded your lips together, looking at him with undeniable adoration.

“You’ll see me in the stands,” he said, nodding and stepping back, letting you get psyched into the game.

“I’m sure I’ll hear you.”

“Oh, you will. I’ll be the one shouting ‘Go Hufflepuff!’” he jested, shooting you a wink and disappearing from the changing room. You smiled as he left, unsure how you got so lucky.

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