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travlersjoy444 · 2 years

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Midnight Dreary (Beast! Wirt x Witch! Reader)

Pretty much just what it says in the title. 2k-ish words, mostly fluff (?)

Gender neutral reader, plus a semi optimistic perspective on the bad end friends' Beast Wirt.

*******

There was a knock on the door late at night, as the cliche goes.

It was past midnight, and the rain lashed at my windows. I sipped my tea, the scent of the roses I dried over summer wafting through the air. The knocks returned.

I sighed, admitting defeat. Whoever was out there was determined. There was a piercing squeal as I pushed my stool away from the counter and slid across the cold wood floor.

The door swung open to a shadowy figure, veiled by the darkness outside. But not even the night could hide its glowing eyes. It’s colorful eyes that seemed to swallow me…

I closed the door. I didn’t want to deal with the beast, not tonight. It would return, it always did, but maybe it would spend the night in the town and come back for me next October.

It knocked again. I froze. Usually it would resort to trickery, lure me out with the face of a child it had swallowed, but not knock after I closed the door. It never did that.

I cursed my stupidity, but stepped towards the door again.

“What do you want?” I sighed, making sure to stay on my side of the threshold.

“Shelter.” It whispered. I was prepared to turn it down when I realized how high its voice was. The beast always had a deep voice, one that seemed to trap you in his web of darkness and lies…

But this voice was higher. It was said with a hint of elegance, as if it belonged to someone who was once incredibly civilized. Mostly, it sounded defeated. Sad. Too sad, too real.

“What are you?” I whispered, staring at its familiar eyes.

“Wirt.” He murmured. “I’m Wirt. I’m not quite myself nowadays, but I need a place to stay…”

I sighed. I must be the stupidest person west of Pottsfield.

“C’mon in, I guess.” I sighed, retreating to the counter.

He unlaced his mismatched boots and sat ridgedly on the couch. His edelwood antlers scraped the ceiling- the boy wasn’t very tall, but the antlers made up for it easily.

“So, why’d you need shelter here anyways?” I started, but when I looked at him again, I saw he was asleep.

I went upstairs. Sleep came quickly for me, and I fell into a dreamless rest.

*******

I opened my eyes to an overcast sky, as per usual for autumn. I laced my stays and tied my apron, nodding at the mirror. This would work fine. I pinned my cloak and grabbed my basket. I was going to forage today, one of the last trips before winter.

I wondered how my uninvited guest was doing. Perhaps he’d be gone when I came downstairs.

I found him asleep on the couch, body curled and lantern held close. I felt bad for disturbing him, but it had to be done.

“Oi, Wirt, wake up. Y’can’t stay here forever, lad, and the rain has stopped. Out.”

His eyes blinked open, revealing his colorful scleras.

“Right-of course, Thank you for letting me stay here, really.” He murmured, awkwardly rising from the velvet couch.

I nodded. “Not a problem. Do you know your way home?”

He nodded too fast. “...Yes. It’s…uh…Pottsfield. Yeah, Pottsfield.”

“It’s a long walk to Pottsfield from Kenops Bay, you know that? I’ll pack you some things.”

I surveyed my items, and gave him a cloth bag full of bread and herbs. Then I led him out of the forest.

He thanked me and left, and I returned to my homestead. What a strange boy.

*******

Well, I thought that would be the last I saw of him. But a few weeks later, I found myself awake at night again.

It’s hard to sleep on full moons, with the wolves howling and light shining through the window. But when I heard a human sounding scream, I had a funny feeling that sleep would be the least of my worries.

I lit my lantern and pinned my cloak. Humans got lost here often, and I had taken it upon myself to guide them away from the wolves. It was my duty. I made sure my satchel was full of herbs and potions- one for shock, one for nerves, one for physical ailments- and laced my boots.

I shoved the door open. Into the unknown.

It wasn’t a very good night to be lost. The fog was heavy, and the creatures were restless…Luckily, it wasn’t too long before I found footprints that resembled boots. They’re fresh. Thank goodness.

There was another shriek in the distance. My heart raced, and I began to run. The trail of footsteps led me through the woods, and the smell of something metallic filled the air. I reached a clearing.

Wolves.

“Oi!” I screamed. The largest wolf turned towards me. “What did I say about humans?!”

...To not hurt them. The wolf answered. But this one isn’t human, (Y/N). This one reeks of something darker.

“We’ll see about that.” I decided. The wolves stepped aside, revealing an unconscious body. I moved closer, recognizing the antlers.

“Wirt?” I whispered. What was he doing here?

Are you going to drag him back to the hut? Asked one of the wolves.

“Is he dangerous?”

Not to you, not anymore. But if you’d let us…well, he’d be delicious-

I sighed. Wolves have incredibly one-track minds.

“No, you idiots. Go raid Ms. Brimsby’s pie stand or something if you’re hungry.”

It’s still open?! One of the wolves barked, leading to a chorus of excited barks and howls.

I rolled my eyes and took a swig of a strength elixir. Time to carry Wirt home.

*******

I reached the house at about one in the morning.

The rain pattered on my roof, and I lit the fireplace. Time to figure out the extent of the damage. I propped Wirt’s unconscious body up on the couch. I unbuttoned his cloak, and hung it to dry near the fire. There was blood dripping all over, and I tried not to cringe as it hit the ground and soiled my floors.

Well, the first order of business was cleaning him up and surveying the damage….

Woah…it’s pretty bad. I winced. He’d probably be here for a while….

*******

I awoke to a panicked yelp.

Naturally, it’s pretty panic-inducing to wake up in a house decorated with skulls and strange bottles decorating the shelves, especially if the last thing you remember was getting attacked by wolves. I snorted. There was an extra couch in my potions room, and I thought it would be funny to have Wirt wake up there.

I dragged myself out of bed and pulled my stays on over my shift. I looked presentable, I guess. I wrapped a soft orange shawl around my shoulders and headed to the potions room.

“Welcome back.” I waved, leaning on the doorframe.

“Oh- It’s you. Did you save me or something?” After the initial moment of panic, he returned to his quiet and emotionless monotone.

I thought back to chastising the wolves.

“...yes. And it was…very dangerous and perilous. Yeah.” I lied.

“Thanks…um, I’d best be going. Sorry to inconvenience you.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, that isn’t happening. You really shouldn’t start fights with wolves-check under your shirt.”

He glanced at me weirdly, and turned towards the wall to unbutton his freshly cleaned top.

“Oh god.” He muttered, staring at the bloody bandage wrapped around his stomach.

“Your arms aren’t a lot better, so…careful.”

He stared at his forearms, and then looked back at me. He looked ill.

“Where’s my lantern?” He whispered, eyes wide.

“Downstairs. I re-lit it, I hope you don’t mind.”

He nodded. “No, that’s perfect.” He still sounded strained. (Should I say something?)

There was a beat of silence. He picked at his bandage. “So…uh..thanks.” He finished, shrugging.

I stared at him for a few seconds.

“...are you okay?” I asked, taking in his pale skin and eye bags. “You seem rattled. I can make a shock potion or something to help with it- I know it isn’t every day you end up at a witch’s house, I get why you'd be scared-”

“No, n-no, it isn’t you- I mean…I guess I’m just….well, I’m just…uncomfortable in general lately. It isn’t personal…I mean, maybe it’s personal against me, since I’m judging me- Ahem. Sorry. I’ll just….um. Stop talking and stuff. Sorry.”

I smiled lightly. The scary beast of the woods was being a total dork.

“Nah, don’t do that. I’m gonna whip up a potion to speed the healing process, and it gets a bit boring here…so yeah, please talk. For my sake.”

He watched me, raising an eyebrow. “Uhh…okay. Cool. Cool, cool. I can do that…sorry. I haven’t actually talked to…well, anyone in a long time…”

I shrugged, reaching for the asphelroot. “Start there then. Why haven’t you talked to anyone?”

“Well, because I’m scary. And…well, apparently evil? Which I’m not! I’m just scary…I wasn’t always like this.” He said glumly.

“What were you like before?” I asked, stirring the mix.

“Well…I was a boy…”

“You are a boy.” I pointed out.

“Yeah, well…I was a human boy. And I had normal brown eyes.”

“What did you do? That’s to say…what were you like, what did you enjoy doing, y’know.” I said absentmindedly, flipping through the tome in front of me.

“Well…I liked interior design?” He began uncertainly. “And…uh…stupid comics- not the cool ones with superheroes, but the ones with dumb teens being unrealistic yet entertaining.”

I nodded, not sure what comics were.

“And…poetry. I miss writing poetry.” He continued, sounding less shaky. “I recorded my poetry on a tape recorder- but you don't know what that is, do you. I…I’m sorry. I’ll talk about something else…”

“What sort of poetry?”

“Oh, y'know…just sappy…um romantic stuff…for this girl I liked…”

“What was she like?”

“Oh, she was really cool, and really cute…” He continued.

I smiled softly as I stirred the potion, listening to him ramble.

...Maybe having someone else here wasn't so bad after all.

*******

Author's note: Sup Wirt simps! If you follow my other stories, then you already know that I'm actually not into boys...but y'know, I like the comfort of writing these. I've been absent in the fandom for a while, and I miss it. It's nice here.

#over the garden wall #over the garden wall x reader #otgwxreader #wirt #otgw wirt #bad end friends #beast wirt #beast wirt x reader

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c4p7ch4 · 1 year

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One-shot: Basta (Inkheart) x OC (Zera)

I've got no excuse for this except I was bored

Warnings: english is not my first language, also: might be out of character, it's late and I can't think straight; also also: fluff and vulnerability (that shit hurts)

"I feel terrible"

"Well, you look terrible, too." Zera said jokingly to Basta, who had just woken up from his feverish slumber. But Basta was in no mood to joke around.

He caught a cold two weeks ago that got pretty bad due to his poor immune system, and he's been bedridden for five days now. The symptoms slowly subsided, but since Basta hardly slept the entire time he was sick, he was incredibly exhausted.

Especially the last two days he could hardly rest, his thoughts were constantly circling around that night and he was unimaginably nervous whenever Zera was around. Neither of them spoke about the kiss, Zera didn't know that Basta was wide awake when she fulfilled his birthday wish and Basta didn't dare to bring it up.

"Come on, stop whinig around and sit up. Breakfast's ready." Zera said and put down a tray with bread and eggs on Basta's lap. When Zera left for the kitchen and came back with a cup of hot coffee, he still hadn't touched any of the food.

"Why aren't you eating?" asked Zera, confused. Basta didn't look up as he mumbled: "I'm not hungry." even though his stomach was gurgling with emptiness, as if it wanted to digest itself.

He didn't feel like eating. He felt awful, not only because he was hungry and tired and sore from lying around in bed so much without getting any rest, but also because he felt dirty. He couldn't remember the last time he had taken a proper bath and he hasn't been able to shave in the last few days, so his face was covered in stubble. He felt disgusting. And ashamed, especially because Zera had to see him like this.

"Of course you're hungry, you've barely eaten anything in two days. Your body's just sending you mixed signals because you're exhausted. I could fetch you something else, if you don't feel like eggs-"

"I said I'm not hungry!" Basta snapped at her and threw the tray off his lap, sending the plate of food flying onto the floor. He regretted his outburst immidiately and finally looked up to meet Zeras eyes, expecting an anxious or maybe even furious expression on her face. But instead, she looked neutral, almost indifferent. She looked Basta straight in the eyes and stared at him, he felt more and more uneasy until he realized that she was contemplating.

After what felt like an eternity, she said, "You should shave. And you should go outside, you didn't have any fresh air since you got here.". Then she took the chair which was standing next to Basta's bed and left for the bathroom. Basta heard her rummaging around at the sink but didn't know what to do, so he just stayed seated on his bed, staring at the mess he created, cursing at himself. He clawed at the blanket beneath him, he wanted to kick himself, angry as he was. His rising fury fizzled out when Zera stepped out of the bathroom, standing in front of Basta, startling him.

"'Think you can walk?"

Basta nodded puzzled and got up without asking any questions. Zera led him to the bathroom and gestured him to sit down at the chair she put in front of the sink. Basta couldn't surpress the brief look of shock when he saw himself in the mirror. He really did look terrible.

"You know, it could be worse," Zera started when she caught Basta's look, "you could look like Cockerell."

Basta huffed at that, but he had to smile at the joke. Then he went solemn again "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

Zera turned away to get the materials she prepared. "No I'm not. I'm not that nice."

She came back with a make-shift shaving set. There wasn't any shaving cream, but she managed to mix something up out of the soap she had at hand. She put a towel over Bastas' shoulders, startling him with the sudden movement, and placed the shaving set on the sink. Basta hadn't yet processed what was happening when Zera came to stand between his legs, leaning against the sink, soap in one hand, Bastas' chin in the other, spreading the soap on his face.

His face felt rough beneath her fingers, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, she almost enjoyed tracing the sharp edges of his face. The enjoyment faded when she noticed Bastas wide eyed look, like a deer staring at the headlights of a car, not knowing wether they meant danger or not. There was something else to his gaze she couldn't name. She stopped her movements and stepped aside to make room for Basta to shave himself.

He took the blade with a shaking hand. At first she thought he was shaking out of nervousness, then she realized it was probably because of his weak condition. She stopped his hand and took the knife from him before it touched his cheek.

"Wait, let me do it." she said, shaking her head.

But Basta recoiled from the knife, first anxious, then furious.

"The hell you are doing! You really think I'd let you get that close to my neck with a knife?" he shouted at her, standing up to make himself bigger. He couldn't let her realize how weak he really was. Unfortunately, Zera wasn't intimidated by Basta, especially not when he looked like a rabid dog, with all the foam on his face. She would have laughed at the sight if she hadn't been ireful herself.

"And you really think I'd kill you or watch as you kill yourself, shaky as you are? You know damn well that Capricorn will have me killed if his second in command dies on my watch! Either you let me help you or you can go back to bed." Zera shot back, arms crossed.

Basta stared her down angrily, but he knew she'd stand her ground no matter what, and he didn't feel like fightning, right know he wasn't strong enough for that. Exasperated he yielded, sitting down, arms crossed, tilting his head away from her. Zera came to stand between his legs again and he squirmed, when she took ahold of his face. His breath quickened along with his heartbeat and he had to fight the urge to draw away.

"Relax, I'll be careful." Zera whispered and began to draw the blade gently across his face.

Basta hated to admit it, but he found pleasure in her caresses. Of course he couldn't let her know that.

He hated how weak she made him at times, and if she knew, she'd use it to her advantage, undoubtly. That is, if she didn't know already. She had to know, why else would she be so caring towards him? She's manipulating you already, idiot! On the other hand, she was caring towards everyone. That's something he hated and admired about her. She was tough and fierce, but also caring and attentive, even to those that did her harm. Even to those stupid brats, that were intentionally clumsy just to have an excuse to come see her and be babied by her. Even to him. Of course she takes care of you, that's her job! She's got no other choice! Yet... her ministrations still felt good to Basta, even if they were forced.

He struggled to keep a stern expression, but secretly he was in heaven. His hard stance gave way for a second as the gentle touches made his body tired and his head heavy, so he leaned into her touch. Zera surpressed a soft giggle and used her hold on his face to tilt his head the other way and shave the other side of his face.

She felt that this form of self-care was good for him, despite his stiffness and tough demeanor, and that he desperately needed it. She didn't take it personally that he lashed out at her. Apart from the fact that he was very temperemental in general, he was also very weary at the moment, which made his fight or flight instincts kick in early on. He was on constant survival mode, that's something she noticed about him early on. She supposed that's bound to happen when you live in a hostile environment such as Capricorns community, and as far as she could tell, no one had Basta's back. He was cross with everyone, most likely even with himself. That drains a person, isolation and loneliness, and even though he would never admit it: he longed for company. That's probably the only thing both of them shared.

Basta's cheeks and mouth area were shaved smooth, now only his neck was left.

"Tilt your head backwards" Zera said as she cleaned the blade.

Basta blinked rapidly, as if waking up from a dream and taking in his surrounding again. He eyed Zera for a moment before he did as she bid. Zera took hold of his shoulder and shaved his neck. She saw him swallow hard, he brought his hands down to his legs and clawed into his trousers. It must have been really hard for him to be in such a vulnerable position. Zera decided to try to lighten up the mood.

"Have you heard what happened to Scipio yesterday? He and some other boys did some arm wrestling and he managed to break his arm. I didn't even think that was possible, but yet here we are. Sometimes I wonder how some of them made it this far down the road. They seem like the kind of people who would cut off their ears to find out if they could still hear when they did."

It made Zera smile to hear a low chuckle from him.

"And the other day Amario wanted to give a flower to one of the kitchen maids, but he picked something poisonous, both his hands were red and swollen and then somehow he got it in his eyes too, he looked like a blown up tomato."

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The mood did lighten up a little and soon Zera was finished with the shave. Basta dried his face with the towel and looked into the mirror with satisfaction.

"There, all nice and smooth." Zera commented, leaning against his shoulder, content with her work, "I kind of miss it, a little stubble suits you." Zera gestured Basta to leave the bathroom and started cleaning up. Her last comment upset him a little and he almost regretted letting her shave him, but he felt better than before none the less. He stood in the doorway for a moment and looked back, contemplating what to say. He rarely ever thanked people, but he felt this was the right time to do so. Still, he couldn't bring the words out, he just stood there, mouth open but no words coming out.

Zera beat him to it and said "You're welcome. And now clean up the mess you made outside."

#Zera is a girlboss #by the way: I headcanon Scipio from 'The thief lord' to join capricorns army cuz he's young and stupid and a runaway #Zera and Basta adopt him #and they both take his last name Fortunato since it means luck/lucky #just imagine it: Basta Fortunato #he'd be so happy to have a name like that #ofc the other blackjackets would make fun of him #it doesn't matter #he's got his wifey and his weird man-son with the body of a grown up and the mind of a teenager #pls let them be happy #inkheart basta #inkheart #basta x oc #basta #inkheart oc

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recurring-polynya · 1 year

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Writing/Art Update 1/24/2023

Well, I had my break. Mostly, what I did was download a new phone game where you run a restaurant, and wasted an enormous amount of time on that. No regrets.

I said last week was my break, but it's not really a break because I'm trying hard to only do stuff when I feel like it. I did start a new art piece which is going...slowly. It's going slowly because I'm taking my time, though, and I spent a million years on hands.

I would like to write, and I have two different things I am enthusiastic about working on, but unfortunately, if I sit down and try to write, my head just goes completely empty. This happens sometimes. Hopefully it will pass. It usually does. I've been trying to take care of other chores in the meantime, so that if my inspiration eventually returns, I'll be able to take advantage of it.

I've been trying to re-read some of the older parts of Heart is a Muscle, in preparation for writing a new part. I used to really like re-reading my writing, but I haven't been feeling it, to be honest. In art, there's a thing where your eye improves at a different rate than your hand, so sometimes, all of sudden, everything you draw looks like shit, but it's because you've leveled up in the ability to perceive art, not because you've gotten worse. I don't really ever think about myself as getting better at writing. I am a lazy writer and I do what I want, and I do not strive to improve my craft. I think I maybe have improved (or maybe just changed?) over the last three years, though, which is why my old writing feels so crusty. It's also possible that I'm just sick of my own voice. Kinda surprising it took that long to happen, tbh.

In other news, my aluminum plant cuttings have been growing roots! I'm so proud of them! I might repot them soon, and try to take some cuttings from my fittonia, and possibly my daughter's peperomia (because I want one). She's going on this houseplant journey with me, plus her room has some of the best light in the house. She took one of the pups her paddle plant made to school and gave it to her teacher. 😭😭😭 You have to understand that this is possibly the first time either of my children has had any interest in the things I care about. It's nice.

I made a sourdough bread today that was significantly better than last week's sourdough. I did make the mistake of proofing it in the oven, because the house was cold. I guess it was still a little too hot (I had heated it up to as low as it could go, and then turned it off again), or I should have spritzed my loaf with oil instead of water, or maybe just re-spritzed it every ten minutes or so, but the dough dried out a little and formed a skin, which meant that it couldn't rise and caramelize properly when I baked it. It was pretty ugly, but it tasted good and was very soft and squishy on the inside. The children, apparently, really like the dense, gluey rock I baked last week; they said both loaves were equally good. Whatever, my tasteless children.

I have been trying to keep my sourdough starter fed more regularly, so I've been looking for more things to do with discard (I already do pizza, pretzels, waffles, English muffins, and bagels). This week was sourdough morning glory muffins, which were very good, as morning glory muffins go (Mr. P loves morning glory muffins). It looks like that blog has lots of good discard recipes, so I may try out some more of them.

I guess that about covers it for this week. Will I do anything next week? We'll see!

#writing update #art update #burnout recovery update

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chocolatepot · 2 years

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I was tagged by @not-nervous-jester and @sassygwaine to find the words sigh, sweet and taste in my WIP! I don't have much of the next chapter of Prisons of Our Own Perceptions written, so this is all going to be from the published bits, which I think counts.

Sigh:

“Oh …” With a sigh, Stede lowered the spyglass. “That’s too bad – I was really hoping to get to see you and your crew in action.”

It took all of a moment for Ed to find himself saying, “You know, this would be a great time for us to show you a fuckery, actually.”

Sweet:

“Iz,” he ordered, and jerked his head to indicate the wheel. Still clearly ruffled, Izzy took over for him while glaring at Stede the entire time, his body language like a cat threatened with cold water. “This is really good! I didn’t know Sharkey had it in him.”

“Roach, my cook on the – on the Revenge,” Stede began, faltering. “Well, he was a dab hand with sweets. I wish I could give you some of the marmalade he used to make.”

Taste:

The food had looked like ordinary enough fare when it was served – well, ordinary in a relative sense; it had looked significantly better than what he’d become used to in recent weeks – but it turned out to taste extraordinary. A thin-sliced roast beef that was butter soft inside and just the right shade of pink, with a well-seasoned crust; fingerling potatoes, fried in fat until their skins were perfectly crisp; and a chunk of warm brown bread with just the right balance of density and rise.

I tag @chaotic-neutral-knitter, @stripedroseandsketchpads, and anyone else who wants to do it!

#writing #prisons of our own perceptions

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introverted-imagineer · 2 years

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Collateral (Vikings Valhalla Imagine)

Disclaimer: Violence, Gore & Swearing. Please take care when reading!

This series is purely for my own enjoyment, I just wanted to share with the fellow vikings fandom that might take pleasure in reading this too :)

Discription: Reader is a servant under Æthelred II who unintentionally finds themselves at the events of the ‘Viking Solution’.

Part 1

Wake

Clean

Feed

Sleep

Wake

Clean

Feed

Sleep

Everyday was the same. For most, the idea of living within the holy grounds of Æthelred II was a privilege. That was, for the most part, true…as long as you knew who to pay off. The sad truth is that unlike most of us under direct service of the king, the devil himself probably ruled with a kinder hand. A sovereign appointed by god, diplomatic, just, sensible. Such traits would be better applied to the castle livestock than ever would Æthelred. There was no trust…no sincerity, no stability. We servants know how to survive…keep your head down, do as you're told and don’t trust anyone. Why do you think they pair us off? Could you really trust one another? Mathilda was alright…fragile to say the least. She’s the closest I have to a friend. Annora and Celestine were the cheeky ones, outspoken. Let’s just say, they knew how to use their beauty to their advantage…and when to slip the stronger liquid into the mens drinks when their rage, ravenous nature or violence came out. ‘Sleep helper’ it was nicknamed. While not deadly, it could make your chosen drop like a fly.

The castle was quiet, for having not so many admirers, this was normal for Æthelred’s court. Us servants were told to be on standby, the King had some ‘special visitors’ but assured that their visit would only be brief. So we did the standard, prepped some ale and wine, got the good goblets from the kitchen, prepared some bread and cheeses incase the meeting went on longer than intended, which was prone to happening. Our job as servants would be to wait outside the grand dining room which the King would host his meeting and wait in silence until our presence was called for. While the King holding court was normal, the inhabitants of the castle could sense something was wrong. Æthelred the Unready seemed to be defying his well known reputation and supposedly seemed to be in control of his affairs the past few weeks. He ordered and changed guard duties, almost doubling what was about the castle recently. While this would usually suggest some sort of warfare, for the most part, England had been rather civil and peaceful. Maybe he was planning a celebration, maybe tensions in the North were rising? We had simply gotten used to it, and so after a few weeks we continued as normal with the new changes.

The five of us, Annora, Celestine, Mathilda, Ellyn and myself, waited outside the grand dining hall. The sounds of horse hoofs from outside echoed through the long and lifeless corridor. The rustling of the gate and the shouting of men could be heard, indicating the opening of the gate. And then the sound of hoofs got louder until the grand entrance doors could be heard bustling open. Nine strange men entered, looking at us intently. “We are here to see the King” exclaimed their exasperated deep voices, a slight accent to them. They were not native to England. Ellyn walked to the door and slowly opened it to allow the men in. “You two wait there” exclaimed one of the men to two others from their fleet. With a groan of dissatisfaction, and then noticing the attentions of Celestine and Annora, suddenly they didn’t seem so fussed with waiting. The door closed, and the insouciance sound of chatter commenced inside.

While we waited silently outside, the two men admiring Annora and Celestine with great interest, the rest of us stood silent, waiting for the meeting to end so we could retreat to the comfort of our quarters. Suddenly the distinct sound of restlessness emerged from the room. The door vibrating, the sound of shouting. Backing up against the cold bricks of the corridor, you and the other servants taken aback by fear. Footsteps running towards the door, and just when they opened one of the men who came in fell dead to the floor, crimson oozing out of his front while an arrow lay nestled in his back. Suddenly the sounds outside the castle became chaotic too. The sounds of horses neighing, men running, shouting as loud outside as there was in the hall. The two men who stood outside ran in, whilst you and Mathilda cowered behind the open door in the hopes of avoiding being amongst the chaos, or even worse, like the visitor on the floor.

As more men ran into the grand dining hall, one of the visitors violently emerged eagerly looking around where we had just stood. We took our knees to the ground in a pathetic attempt to hide. Our only solace pressed between the thin gap of the open door, and the castle wall. While he stomped away, the deafening sound of screaming came from the other side of the door. “STAY THERE YOU BASTARDS” he exclaimed. The sounds of footsteps took off down the corridor towards the door. Mathilda and I peeping through the crack of the door that concealed us to see the bottom of one of the servants dresses sprinting away. The sound of a loud grunt emerged from the man and something went flying through the air. The sound of a crack and then a falling body. Ellyn…with an axe prominently lodged in her skull. Then the sound of more high pitched screaming, the man stomped down the hall with Annora and Celestine grabbed by their long hair, pain and fear could be sensed from their cries. “Y/N! MATHILA! HELPPPPP” Annora screamed. The strange man as violently as he had lodged the axe seamlessly and unnervingly dislodged his axe and turned his head in the direction which Annora had screamed. With a loud grunt, he begrudgingly stomped towards our hiding space. Slamming the door shut, concealing the violent sounds that continued inside he grabbed us by the scalp of our hair “DAUGHTERS OF WHORES” he screamed and violently towed all four of us out an unguarded door off the castle. “Why God?” You whispered to yourself…but then again, you didn’t have much faith anyway. The way your life played out, what was there to be so grateful for? The brisk cold air shocked you from the lungs, and the almost ripping out of a bunch of you hair, and the flaying between your four bodies forced closely in tow together, there seemed to be no escape.

Fear stricken, there seemed to be nothing worse in that moment. Until the yelling from afar came. The foreign language made one thing clear, nobody was coming to your rescue. “You bitches are dead” our captor silently spat in our ears. In the matter of seconds he flung his arm and let our hairs go, and before we realised it our bodies smacked against one another, and into the stone wall of the outer castle. The distinct taste of blood filling my mouth, the sudden dizziness washing over me. Gently putting my hand to my head, the feeling of warm liquid gushed from my temple. Annora and Mathilda slammed to the ground, Celestine unconscious completely. Then the approach of horses could be made out between the fuzziness of consciousness and more strange men, with their strange language jumped down from their steeds. A sense of urgency came from the strange men, the look of bloodied swords hung from their hands. Sitting up on my knees as best I could, holding onto the wall for stability the men spoke. While they aggressively yelled at one another, the words foreign to you, there was one word you did understand. “Collateral”. Without even a hint of hesitance, one of the men stomped over to you, taking the hilt of his sword and confidently and swiftly beat it against the side of your head.

Suddenly the sound of yelling, and the silent muffling of Annoras cries depleting, the world went black, then silent.

To Be Continued...

#vikings #valhala #imagines #vikings x reader #harald sigurdsson

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turtle-steverogers · 3 years

Note

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

#i did not proofread this at all so i just kNOW im going to read this back later and find a whole bunch of typos oops #stucky #stucky fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #idiots in love #sad stevie aw

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Note

CASHIER LEVI AND LIKE THE READER IS THE CUSTOMER AND IT’S LIKE THEY HAVE A CRUSH ON EACHTOHER

author note :: honestly not my best at all..... like at all..... this was actually pretty good but the entire draft got deleted and i just lost all my effort but i felt bad for starting it and not completing it for anon so you may take whatever i have managed to salvage. i hope u enjoy it :’( i am extremely sick rn and yeah writing is the only break i am currently getting from anything :-) SO AGAIN I’ M SORRY ANON..... i may write a 10k + word fic on this though so i can redeem myself bc this is just disappointing 😭

word count :: 3.3k

every single thursday you stop by ackermart. maybe it’s because the day is convenient for you or perhaps it’s because of a certain cashier that works the evenings...

HAHA it’s got nothing to do with a cashier why would it have anything to do with a cashier? :-)

today is like any other. you walk through the fresh produce aisle then proceed to make your way towards the bakery section picking up a loaf of bread

it’s stupid, you know it is but... you think you’ve worked up enough courage to speak to him today!!

and who is him you may ask?

levi at till number four. his tired eyes always happen to pierce into yours and his calloused thumbs brush past your skin when you hand him your rewards card

levi is what his bright red name tag says and although he doesn’t look like a levi you’d like to think your crush isn’t stealing someone’s identity so you believe that it’s his real name

anxiously fiddling with your basket you’re beginning to think this was a horrible idea

the girl ahead of you is flirting up a storm with him and although he’s not reciprocating it by any means you still feel deterred

levi bags the last of her groceries and looks up at her when she asks for a way to contact him. he doesn’t look mad... just bored?

“ma’am. this is an ackermart i don’t think it’s appropriate you ask me for my number. the customer service line is listed on our website.”

the woman raises a brow looking completely flabbergasted. okay, if everything before this wasn’t a warning THIS sure was

she stomps off when she realises levi isn’t kidding and you think you’d feel bad for her maybe if she was more respectful about it

“next customer.” levi calls over his shoulder and you shuffle forward pretending to be engrossed in your phone

“cash or card?” he asks plainly.

you hear the BEEP of your groceries being scanned and think on it for a while before replying with “cash”

you’re clearly pretty good at your pretend to be totally into your phone act because levi tries to get your attention but you don’t hear what he has to say till the third time he repeats himself

but even then you’re still unsure what it is he’s said????

looking down you see his hand is stuck out in front of you and now you’re even more confused

faltering for a second you look at his palm and then speak

“um, i guess your hand is nice? it’s pretty big compared to the rest of you actually.”

“i was asking for your cash?” he says and now you look at his palms in mortification

gasping you yANK your hand into your purse as you laugh awkwardly fishing around to find your money

“oh, OH i knew that. just kidding!! i mean- i meant that thing about your hand?? but i thought it was- i funny? yes the joke funny? i’m-”

he leans back into his spinning chair and sighs contently. “you’re not making much sense peaches.”

“pe- peaches??” you repeat. no way you’ve heard that correct

levi lazily points at the abundance of the aforementioned fruit in your grocery bags

“you must love em.”

“i, well yeah i do like peaches but i also like...” um??? what food would make you look sophisticated and professional?

OH YEAH

“FRENCH CUISINE :-)!!!!” you say rather proudly

“...cool. i guess.” levi hands you your grocery bag which is basically an invitation asking for you to get out

he doesn’t seem mad but he’s definitely going to look back at this encounter and laugh his ass off at how stupid you are

hanging your head down low in embarrassment you make your way out towards your car

there’s always next time!! maybe you can practice in the mirror yeah that does sound like it would help!!!

okay so.

it is officially next time.

actually you never got the opportunity to practice in front of the mirror because you chickened out of looking like an idiot even if it was in the privacy of your own home

but!!! you did try to practice some cool pick up lines because who doesn’t like a good pickup line or two??

the two mini milk cartons in your hand and the pack of doughnuts you have tucked under your arm aren’t too heavy so you aren’t too worried about having to wait in the line

for some reason the guy in front of you keeps turning around and glancing at you as if you don’t even exist

you are not casper the ghost

also casper is a little boy and you definitely aren’t a little boy

finally after a good five minutes the man ahead of you is having his stuff scanned but he’s STILL doing it. even levi notices and gives him an odd look which borders annoyance and anger.

“can i pay for your groceries? maybe walk you to your car?” the stranger asks suddenly

so that’s what this is, he’s simply taken an interest in you

my god this is new but it is uncomfortable and you’d rather say no

“oh, i actually walked here and no thanks i can pay for my own. enjoy the rest of your day!!” you hope your white lie is enough to fool the man but instead of agreeing as any other person would he looks majorly deceived

“i saw you in the parking lot.” ok this is getting a bit too uncomfortable for your liking

“c’mon i’m offering to buy your shit too?”

his voice is raising and you’re not sure what exactly you can do but thankfully for you the manager steps in and takes him away before any more threats can be made

the man had taken up so much of your attention you almost forgot levi was even there until you turned back around

“do you want a member of staff to accompany you to your car? it’s getting dark out.” levi’s comment helps ease your nerves and you try to laugh off what just happened

“i’m good :-)” you say shaking a little. you’re unsure if it’s the cold or the fact you still haven’t completely calmed down

“you sure peaches?”

“i haven’t bought any peaches this time.”

“you’re still peaches to me.” your cheeks flush at his confidence

wait, maybe this is your chance. you’re the last person in his line and they’re closing up for the day so...

“could you walk me to my car?”

and to your surprise even before you can take back what you’ve said levi agrees

it stays like that for a while.

every thursday levi walks you to your car by the end of his shift, all the while the two of you exchange a few words together

like last week you asked him what his favourite colour was (he said purple) you’ve learnt about his hobbies (he’s a decent cook), you’ve even found out about some of his own personal problems. he had mentioned suffering with insomnia in passing.

to be honest each and every time he walks you to your car he has to notice that you begin to park further and further away from the front entrance. but if he does notice he doesn’t say a word about it

“is that all you’re checking out?” you ask with a cheeky grin plastered across your face

looking down at your new dress your lopsided grin is far from fading away any time soon. you especially picked this one out after asking levi what his favourite colour was last week

god. this is so embarrassing but never actually have you had a crush this huge

levi who’s sat behind the counter shoots you a look which almost seems to be on the verge of uninterested. he isn’t entertaining this at all or this is just his typical bored face, you can’t really tell

BUT..... you still have a huge crush on him and you aren’t one to give up this easily

for the record you don’t harass him or anything, just the occasional hint is thrown around but he’s either really dense or doesn’t care

his expression does you no favours, you can’t tell what he’s thinking half the time

“you’re always buying energy drinks... might want to cut down on those they’re no good for you.”

warmth blooms in your chest. he’s just saying it to make small talk but the fact he even thinks to bring that up has your heart fluttering

“i- well- yeah i will!! just have a few overdue essays to get over with :-)” twiddling your thumbs together you think that makes your nerves too obvious so you begin to scratch at the back of your neck

if anything is a dead give away it’s your constant neck scratching, thankfully levi hasn’t picked up on it

“so you wore purple today?” his eyes linger on the thin straps of your dress and you feel the goosebumps rise up onto your skin immediately

“oh yeahhhh-”

“did i tell you yellow was my favourite colour last week?” he asks holding up a neon yellow pack of crisps and for the first time you see him smile

he looks so ?!|>\€|^ pretty ?!/)/&

wait?? yellow??

“didn’t you say purple?”

“no?” he crosses his arms playfully over his chest thinking for a bit

“maybe i did but no it’s really yellow.” he says as he hands you your bag

nodding your head you smile “yeahhhh sure it is.”

damn, now you’re going to have to find a yellow dress just to make him revert back to purple because who even likes yellow?? that’s a deal breaker right there??

update

it’s been two weeks!!

and a yellow dress has been found and secured B-)

it’s been a pretty rough day at work and you need to desperately collect a pack of green tea and get going

you don’t know when exactly being a secretary meant you had to babysit your boss’ children but that’s what the last week has entailed

being made to work overtime to this extent has had an effect on you and you’re ready to head home as soon as you swing by ackermart

not seeing levi for a week made you a little :-( because to be honest he’s the highlight of your thursday evening BUT!! you’ll be able to see him today at least

walking in through the entrance you’re met with connie smiling right at you, he holds the door open for you and smile back greeting him

“so you didn’t come last week...?”

it’s weird for him to ask that, after all you don’t really speak to anyone here apart from levi, you’re surprised you’re enough of a regular to be known by name

“oh i didn’t think anyone would notice? but yeah i had to work overtime you know what boss’ are like.” groaning you crouch down and look at the pot noodles on display

“i didn’t notice it. boss man did.”

“boss man?” you ask feeling out of loop

“levi.” connie answers as he hops into the backroom

????

isn’t he just a cashier??

“you still look confused.” connie remarks as he heads back out with a cardboard box full of pringle’s tubes

“levi’s the boss man, this is his store. he literally only ever mans the cash register on thursday evening because of you.”

at that you start laughing because it makes no sense at all to you

there’s no way connie is being serious

“good one.” you say as you stand up with a chicken flavored noodle in your hand

“i’m not kidding?”

turning around you give him a skeptical look

he sighs and shakes his head.

“listen. me and the part timers are tired of making bets on when he’ll give you his number and i bet that it would happen today so if you could confess to each other that would be perfect!!!”

“who said i like-”

“anyone with a brain can tell you both like each other.” he’s rolled his eyes so far into the back of his head you begin to take him a little more seriously now

“i... did i make it that obvious??” you’re directly facing him trying to get out as much information as you can

“yeah. very. at least levi wasn’t as bold.”

“i think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick he definitely doesn’t like me.”

connie gives you an “are you fucking with me?” look and you look away trying to distract yourself with the the canned goods lining the shelves

“he was worried sick when you didn’t come in for the entire week. he even asked me if he scared you away.”

“maybe i’m just his favourite customer?”

“favourite customer my ass he has a crush on YOU. confess.”

playing around with the ends of your sleeves connie sees he’s fighting a losing battle unless he gives you definitive solid proof

“please... i’ll get free barbecue if i win the bet and i’m kinda broke rn :-(” okay, you do want connie to eat well and be treated and maybe this is a good thing. if levi doesn’t like you then you can move on!!

“i’ll think about it.”

before connie can continue talking you make a beeline towards the tea aisle whilst throwing a “see you next time!” over your shoulder.

by the time you’ve gathered all of your groceries your basket is full to the brim. you’ve been lingering as much as you can out of fear but you think you’ve collected just enough courage to ask for his number

looking at the cash register levi is sat there and your shoulders slump. he’s probably going to say no and you’re going to look like a huge loser.

right as you’re about to take a step towards him levi finally spots you and gives you one look before standing up from his seat

“hi!” you wave at him

“...hey!” he smiles wide but he bites it back pretending it was never there in the first place

placing your basket in front of him he eyes what you’ve got

“hm... lots of peaches as per usual peaches.” the nickname that rolls of his tongue makes you tremble a little. will he call you that after you fuck everything up with this stupid confession?

his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek when he gets to the heart shaped box of chocolates

“a gift for a friend? didn’t know you had those?” he teases as he scans the barcode

“gift for a crush!” you reply back enthusiastically as you dig through your wallet looking for your card

levi doesn’t respond for a few seconds and an awkward silence fills the air. you glance up to see him looking at you open mouthed in shock

“good luck.” he murmurs under his breath he’s not even returning your gaze at this point and is hurriedly scanning through your barcodes

“you okay?” you ask worrying about his mood

“yeah, yeah. great.” he’s quieter than usual.

the rest of your encounter is the same, levi silently bags your groceries and you can’t tell if this is a good or bad response.

just as he’s about to place the heart shaped box into your plastic bag you lunge forward holding his wrist to stop him

“no i don’t need those.”

he cocks his eyebrow upwards trying to analyse your expression and gain an understanding of your thoughts

“don’t tell me you’re chickening out. whoever it is will say yes.” he scoffs as he places the chocolates into the bag handing them over to you with a warm smile

there it is again. the fear returns and you swipe your tongue over your slightly dry lips.

no way.

is he telling you to confess to someone now? so he must not like you?

taking the bag away from him you scratch your neck out of habit and huff feeling frustrated

“he keeps giving me mixed signals.” you say hoping he catches your drift

“give him the chocolates and let him put two and two together. don’t even say anything.” his advice would be great if he weren’t the guy you were trying to confess to in real time

nodding you reach into the bag and bring the box back out before gently placing it in front of levi

“are you serious?” he asks and your face drops seeing the possible displeasure in his eyes

great, connie and the part timers just over analysed he doesn’t like you, obviously he doesn’t like you, why would he like you?

without looking back you hurry out, the embarrassment is eating you away now and the thought of ever returning to ackermart isn’t even feasible in your mind

at this point you may as well change your name, identity, dye your hair, have a few children and wear sunglasses the next time you come back so you look like a soccer mum and not the foolish y/n who thought they had a chance with their cute CASHIER???

god, you probably look like a creep

the sound of footsteps can be heard behind you and labored breaths follow before levi calls out for you

“please wait up.” he grumbles. slowing down your pace you let him catch up to you. he grabs at your wrist and sighs in relief

turning you see him savour the air

is this the part where he confesses he likes you too or—

“your receipt you forgot it.” he gasps as he opens your hand for you and places it into your palm

oh.

fingers clasping shut onto the paper you feel the humiliation seep into your pores

this.

is.

the.

worst.

moment.

of.

your.

life.

“open it.” he offer you a boyish smile and your nerves don’t let you find comfort in it

you grimace as you fold it open, you’re imagining he’s charged you an extra £100 for having unwanted feelings for him and if that’s the case you’ll die on the spot

but instead your eyes light up in joy. you’re pleasantly surprised

...

inside of the receipt is his phone number haphazardly sprawled across in black biro - you even double check by comparing it to the number for the customer service helpline

hello??

HELLO.?.!/)£ HIS NUMBER???

“if you just wanted to return the chocolate this is embarrassing.” he’s the one who’s now scratching at his neck and you find that he’s endearing this way

the streetlight from above illuminates him, the shadows cast over his face and his brows aren’t furrowed as they usually are

you open your mouth to reply but connie cuts you off unintentionally. he can be heard YELLING into his phone ecstatic that his plan has worked out

“I WIN!!! HA BBQ’S ON YOU JEAN!! MUST SUCK TO BE YOU.”

you and levi look at each other and laugh, reassuring the other of what has just happened.

well...

you guess this is the start of something new? maybe??

:-)

526 notes · View notes

poisoned-peppermint · 3 years

Text

Part 4 of incorrect quotes because i feel obligated to make more due to the sheer number of people who liked it

Dream: My dearest beloved fuckos, is a fun, gender-neutral way to begin a speech

George: See also, esteemed bastards

Bad: Gentlefolk, Ferals, and Domesticated cryptids.

Sapnap: My fellow yees and haws

~~~~~~~

Techno:Hey I know skyrim is revered as a classic but are we just going to ignore the fact that the entire game only had like 3 voice actors

Wilbur:Stop right there criminal cum

Techno:My ancestors are smiling at me, bastard, can you say the same

~~~~~~~

Foolish:When's your bedtime :)

Purpled: Whenever I next collapse in purely up to the gods

~~~~~~

Ranboo:Human skin is a fursuit for skeletons

Tubbo: i’m going to debone you like a fucking trout

~~~~~~

Bad:You’re enough

Bad: love yourself!!!!!!! or suffer my wrath!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dream:And by wrath I mean love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bad:no I mean wrath!!!!! You reading this, if you don't love yourself I’ll beat you with a stick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~

Bad:I hope everyone is today well! And tomorrow!!!! After that you’re on your own.

~~~~~~

Bad:what am I supposed to do all day while you’re at work

Skeppy:I don’t know, what do you normally do while I’m gone

Bad: wait for you to get back

~~~~~~

Velvet:For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5am on the day I can sleep in

Ant:Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Velvet:Early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch

~~~~~~

Tubbo: 3:23 AM make a wish

Ranboo: I wish that you would go to sleep

Tuddo: Yeah well I wish I grew an inch taller every day as you get an inch shorter until you’re as flat as as a piece of paper and I’m 11 feet tall

Ranboo: You’re going to die of a mixture of skeletal instability and heart disease.

Tubbo: Yeah but I’ll look good while doing it.

~~~~~~

Bad:Disrespect me again and I’ll determine your bodies resonant frequency and play a jaunty horn solo that boils your miserable organs inside out

~~~~~~

Quackity: If I were dating you? Well, heh. Let’s just say horses wouldn't be called horses anymore

Karl: hey what the honk does this mean…..I’m shaking what does this mean!

~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you ok?

Bad wrapped in a burrito blanket drinking his 6th cup of coffee: Yes, this is exactly what mental stability looks like

~~~~~~

Sam: My hands are cold

Ponk: *holds their hands*

Ponk: better?

Sam: My lips are cold too

~~~~~~

George at dream’s funeral: can I have a moment alone with them?

Sapnap: of course *leaves*

George leaning over dream’s casket: Now listen, I know you’re not dead.

Dream: yeah no shit

~~~~~~

Skeppy, jokingly: I should have Bad kill you for that.

Bad, peering around the corner: Who do I need to kill?

Skeppy: Wh- no, I was just kidding around.

Bad, pulling out a switchblade: No, who’s bothering you

~~~~~~

Bad *watching the news*: Some idiot tried to fight a squid at the aquarium.

Skeppy *covered in ink*: Maybe the squirt was being a dick.

~~~~~~

Peacock: *spreads feathers at Bad*

Skeppy: It’s trying to attract a mate

Bad, extremely confused: *shyly lifts top*

Skeppy: No!

~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl, do you eat olives? My dad wants to know

Karl: No, I hate olives. Olives are the spawn of satan. I hate olives so much my mom forced me to live in Mount olive for the rest of my childhood as a curse from the olive gods. Do you understand how much olives have ruined my life? I'm so offended that you asked me that have some consideration for people who have been abused by olives please!

Sapnap: K A R L ……….they’re just olives!!?

Karl: JUST OLIVES EXCUSE!

~~~~~~

Tommy: If you’re bored you can simply close your eyes and rotate a cow in your mind. It’s free and the cops can’t stop you

~~~~~~

Wilbur: is there anyone even named sheldon irl?

Tubbo: my class turtle from 6th grade :)

Wilbur: that’s a turtle

Tubbo: When god sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

~~~~~~

Ranboo: No bcuz why do ppl like salad?? What’s so good about it

Tubbo: chew leaf like god intended

Ranboo: No

Tubbo: Abandon god and see what he does next time you lift your hands in prayer

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Wilbur, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

~~~~~~

Quackity: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

~~~~~~

Puffy: If you had too, what would you give up food or sex?

Bad: Sex.

Skeppy: Seriously, answer faster.

Bad: I’m sorry honey, when they said sex I wasn’t thinking about sex with you.

Skeppy: It’s like a giant hug.

Puffy: Ant, what about you? What would you give up sex or food?

Ant: Food.

Puffy: Okay, how about sex or dinosaurs?

Ant: ……...Oh my God it’s like the movie Sophie’s Choice.

Gumi: What about you Velvet? What would you give up sex or food?

Velvet: Oh… um… I don’t know, it’s too hard.

Gumi: No, you gotta pick one.

Velvet: Um, food… no, sex… no, food…sex… food. Ugh! I don’t know! I want both! I- I want Antfrost on bread!

~~~~~~~

Tommy, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Why are you guys acting like this?

Boomer: Oh, we’re not acting. We really are like this.

~~~~~~

Techno: Dream has only knocked me out three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re pathetic!

Wilbur: You’re pathetic-er!

Techno: You’re both losers.

~~~~~~

Bad: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Skeppy: Bad, please!

Bad: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

~~~~~~

Tubbo: Why did you leave Wrestlemania on for Michal?

Ranboo: They need to learn how to protect us.

~~~~~~

Antfrost: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

~~~~~~

Bad: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.

Skeppy: Go the fuck to sleep Bad!

Bad: LANGUAGE!!

~~~~~~

Ranboo: Tubbo, please calm down.

Tubbo: I asked for two large fries!

Tubbo: *dumps fries onto table*

Tubbo: But all they did was give me a MILLION FUCKING LITTLE ONES!

~~~~~~

Bad: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.

Skeppy: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

~~~~~~

Wilbur: When you’ve been on the internet for as long as I have, you develop thick skin.

Tommy: Navy blue isn’t your color.

Wilbur: Navy blue brings out my eyes you prick! *Chases after Tommy*

~~~~~~

Bad: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere*

Puffy: Where did you get that?.

Bad: My pocket.

Puffy: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket?

Bad: Skills.

~~~~~~

Tubbo: I will come to your house after work and knock on your window at 11 AM. You will not open the curtains, knowing full well what awaits you, but the knocking only grows louder, more demanding. Finally it stops, your ears ringing. You nervously let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You're safe now. Minutes pass by and you start to relax. And then you hear a knock at the front door. Like before, you stay still and clutch the blankets around you. You try to tell your self that it's just your imagination. Maybe the milk man? But why would he come so late? Everyone else was asleep, save for Naomi who was playing video games down stairs. To your relief, the knocking stops after a few. Minutes and you breath easy once more. Until you hear a knock on your bedroom door. You don't move. It's just your imagination. She isn't here. She can't be here. You tell yourself, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to sleep. The knock comes again, but with horror you realize that it came from the closet inside your room. You know that you have no choice. You get up, climbing out of bed with shaking limbs. You walk to the closest, trembling, and holding back the tears threatening to spill over your porcelain cheeks. You hesitate with your hand over the closet handle. Maybe it's just your imagination? She's not really there. You can go to sleep and laugh it off in the morning. Your naive thoughts are cut off by another, more demanding knock on the closet door, inches from your face. You know what you have to do. You open the closet door, and there she stands. Chuck e cheese, the mouse looms over you in the dim light. It's soulless eyes boor into you. It raises its arms, and you flinch as it begins to floss at lightning speed. Tears spill over your cheeks. This is the last thing you'll ever see.

Ranboo: Wait, Chuck e cheese’s pronouns are she/her? Trans Chuck e cheese? Good for her.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Would you like something to drink? *They opened the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-

Quackity: Spiders?

Bad: Spiders it is then.

Quackity: No, that wasn’t-

*But they were already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders…

~~~~~~

Puffy : Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Velvet : Make his dick hard not his life.

Punz : Break her bed not her heart.

Skeppy : Play with his boobs not his feelings.

Ant : Get on his dick not his nerves.

Bad : Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Tommy: Bet you I can!

Phil: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~~~~~~~

Ant: We need a way to lure in new customers?

Ponk: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Skeppy: Badboyhalo bath water.

Bad: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

~~~~~~~~

Fundy: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Wilbur: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Mint is just cold spicy.

Pummel party Squad: …

Gumi: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

~~~~~~~~

Quackity: Isn’t it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

Phil:

Phil: Why are you eating dirt?

Tommy: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.

Quackity: You’re too young to have enemies.

Tubbo: You don’t even know.

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Puffy: What’s up your ass this morning!

Bad: *walks in* …Hi!!

Puffy: Hmm… nevermind.

Skeppy: WAIT NO!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Ha! Don’t you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper?

Skeppy: I must be losing it, I’m quoting Bad.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad, I sense hostility.

Bad: Good, because I hate you

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you a painting?

Skeppy: What-?

Bad: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Skeppy: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG ME OR SOMETHING-

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re giving me a sticker?

Phil: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Tommy: I’m not a preschooler.

Phil: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Tommy: I earned this, back off!

~~~~~~

Dream, sweating: George, there’s something I need to ask you-

George: Finally! You’re proposing!

Dream: How’d you know?

George: Dream, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

George: I even picked it up once

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy looking at a locked gate into a park*

Bad: Aw. :(

Skeppy: You know what they say.

Bad: Please don’t-

Skeppy: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate*

Bad: Frick-

~~~~~~~~

let me know if ya’ll want more <3

299 notes · View notes

angryinternetduck · 3 years

Text

oh to stay

About 4,900 words on cold beds, waltzing butterflies, and stupid rules. Harry doesn’t do relationships, neither do you; he’s a coward (but not really), and you are too. Lots of crumby bread puns. Alcohol consumption and mentions of cheating. Friends with benefits to lovers. Enjoy!

The bed’s cold.

You shouldn’t be surprised, not really.

But part of you was hoping.

You started hoping a lot recently, you notice, and it’s kind of becoming a problem. You and Harry are friends. With benefits, of course, but friends don’t cuddle. Friends don’t wake each other up with kisses and giggles, and friends don’t spend sleepy mornings in bed with each other.

You’re comfortable under the duvet, if you’re honest, if not a little lonely. You curl into yourself, wishing despite everything you had a warm body to lay with, and close your eyes. Harry’s behind your eyelids, of course, all dimples and green eyes and soft kisses, and you open your eyes again.

Mornings are interesting. They come with a bit of regret, a touch of satisfaction, and a shitload of loneliness. And the bed’s cold. It’s always cold. He’s never there. He wakes up early and runs, or works, or does yoga.

He’s so good at leaving, at being gone before you open your eyes, that you sometimes wonder if he even sleeps with you at all. Sometimes, you think he waits until you’re dead asleep and then runs to his own room.

Then you wake up in the middle of the night with his arms around you and realize he’s just an early riser. Despite yourself, those are the moments you love best. There’s something calming about being in his arms, about feeling his chest rise and fall behind you, about feeling his hand under yours.

It’s a shame neither of you do relationships.

It takes a while, but you get out of bed eventually. You eye one of his discarded shirts on the floor, tempted to break one of the rules, and then decide against it and pull on your clothes from the night before.

The floor’s cold beneath your feet. It’s hardwood, freezing, and you regret not wearing socks before remembering you wore heels last night, without socks. You scowl. They were uncomfortable. You’d only worn them because you’d gone out, hoping to get laid, hoping to get your mind off of him.

Him, who’d called you, whose bed you ended up waking up in.

Did a great job getting your mind off of him, huh.

He’s standing at the stove, flipping an egg. An image flashes through your head of creeping up behind him, hugging him from behind, feeling his warmth, kissing his cheek, his neck, him spinning around and kissing you back and dancing with you and -

He turns around. Smiles. “Morning,” he says.

You swallow thickly and smile back. “Morning.”

“Sleep well?” His smile tugs into a smirk, and you sigh. He asks that every morning. You were so flustered that first time, stumbling over your words, completely at a loss, and he’d asked that. You’d frozen, stared at him, eyes wide…

Then you’d fainted.

He was so nice about it, too, which almost makes it worse. If he’d been a prick, if he’d just dropped you and never spoke to you again, it would’ve been easier. But no, he just acted like the perfect gentleman he was.

He just gently woke you up, made sure you were okay, gave you water. Laughed when you apologized. Said it wasn’t your fault he was such a damn charmer, said he’d love to make you faint again, as long as you did it closer so he could catch you in his arms.

Now, you sigh and sit at the island and answer, “Never better,” like every morning.

He slides an egg on your plate without you asking. It’s just how you like it, and a flash of irrational anger surges through you. “Look nice,” he says quietly, and you look up. His back is towards you. Coward.

“Thanks,” you say.

“Out last night?”

You bite your lip, sliding your egg around your plate. “Yeah,” you say.

He turns back around and comes around the island. Sits down. “Anything interesting?”

You look up at him, send him a smirk of your own. “I’d call last night interesting,” you purr, and he laughs. “Fuckin’ hell. I meant before that, genius.” You put your elbow on the island, prop your head in your hand. “Hm. No.”

“Not a thing?”

“What, jealous?” you ask, wiggling your brows.

He scoffs. “Of what?”

You shrug, looking down at your plate. “You know. All the beautiful boys I’m picking up.”

“You mean… me?”

“Oh, please,” you say, laughing despite yourself.

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel his gaze on you. It takes more self-control than you’d like to admit to keep your gaze on your plate for only a few seconds, and then you look up. He’s looking at you, all right, green eyes intense, bottom lip between his teeth.

And he’s totally unabashed when you catch him. He just smiles.

“You’re staring, Styles,” you sigh.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs back. He stands up, pushing his chair back with a squeak. His plate’s barely touched. He puts it to the side and hops up onto the counter. “Going home?” he asks, legs swinging, even though he knows the answer.

“Yeah.” You stand up, come around the counter. “Looks nice,” you go on, thumbing the top of your outfit, “but uncomfortable as fuck.” His eyes follow your fingers, drift over you, come back up to your eyes, a shade darker than his usual green.

You can see him struggle, see the offer on the tip of his tongue.

Wanna stay? Borrow something of mine?

The unasked questions hang in the air for a second.

He’s sitting right next to the sink. Slowly, you step closer to him. Closer, closer, even closer. Soon you’re close enough to kiss. Close enough for his hands, folded between his legs, to graze your dress, your stomach. His finger twitches, but he doesn’t move. “Kiss me, Styles,” you whisper.

He holds your gaze, the challenge dying in his eyes as he loses composure.

He’s not breathing.

Neither are you.

He closes his eyes.

You inhale shallowly, let your plate slide into the sink next to him. “I’ll call an Uber,” you tell him quietly, and you see his jaw clench. A bit of satisfaction races through you because you want him to be annoyed. Want him to feel the frustration you feel every time you look at him.

Because he could offer. He could give you a t-shirt. He could let you stay, could kiss you, could kiss you all morning and all afternoon and break all the rules. Every single one of them, with just a few words.

One word, actually.

Stay, he could say, softly, breathlessly, and you would.

But he doesn’t.

So you don’t.

***

You’re not supposed to wear his clothes.

He’s not supposed to kiss you in the morning. Or ever, really, except at night.

No two consecutive nights of sleeping together.

No staying.

It’s surprising, really, how long you’ve lasted. It’s been a few weeks, and not a single rule’s been broken. A few loopholes here and there - leaving then coming back rather than staying, for example…

But it’s worked. It’s worked. Despite what your friends have said, you’re not dependent on each other. You can go more than a day without seeing each other, can kiss other people. It’s not a relationship.

You leave his house crying sometimes, sure, but you’re not in a relationship.

And that’s really all that matters.

***

You use a loophole and go back to Harry’s place after a few hours. More than a few. You’re productive. Kind of. You get a few things done, stare at the ceiling, scroll through social media. It’s pretty late when you go back.

By the time the two of you become bored of the TV, the sun’s set. It’s dark outside, and cold, but you follow Harry into the hallway without a sweatshirt. “Think we should move to Alaska or summat so we can see the stars better,” Harry murmurs as he pushes open the big door out onto the roof.

“I’ll get you a telescope for your birthday,” you reply.

“And tickets for an Alaskan cruise.”

You look up towards the sky, craning your neck. “Yeah,” you agree, smiling. “And tickets for an Alaskan cruise.” Harry sits down, stretching to reach for a ratty tennis ball. It’s against the wall, right where you left it a few days ago. Gently, he rolls it forward, and it hits your foot and rolls back to him.

A while ago, probably a few years back, somebody left a tennis ball on the roof of Harry’s apartment complex. It’s old and fraying and more brownish than green. A few weeks ago, Harry brought you up to the roof, and a few days ago, you found the old tennis ball.

“Would you?” you ask, sitting down.

He bounces the ball towards you. “Would I what?”

You smile, wiggle your ring finger. “Marry me.”

He grins. “Buy me a ring and I’ll say ‘I do.’”

“No,” you say, bouncing the ball back. “Move to Alaska.”

Bounce. “Of course.”

Bounce. “That fast?”

“Yeah.”

You bite your lip. It’s quiet for a minute, both of you concentrating on the ball.

“Italy,” Harry says.

“Spaghetti,” you say back.

Harry shrugs. “I’d move there.”

“For the spaghetti.”

“And the stars.”

“And the romance.”

Harry doesn’t throw the ball hard enough, and it bounces twice. “I’d move to Paris, too.”

“For the baguettes.” You copy his throw. Bounce, bounce, catch.

“But not the romance.”

“Just the baguettes.”

“Bread above all else.”

“Did you love her?”

Harry looks away from the ball, his green eyes flicking up to your face.

The ball bounces past him.

Harry blinks, and then stands up to go and get it. You watch him, watch his back, biting your lip because you’re kind of regretting saying anything. He’s mentioned a girl. He was open about it from the beginning.

No relationships, he said, smiling. Been there, done that. No thanks.

She probably broke his heart.

You’d feel bad for him if he’d tell you anything more than, We were great. Let’s watch a movie. As is, though, he’s said nothing, and your curiosity is beginning to overwhelm your sympathy.

When he comes back, he fiddles with the ball for a second before bouncing it back.

“No,” he says.

You toss the ball lightly, letting it bounce once, twice, three times… Too light. It’s rolling by the time it gets to him. He bounces it in front of him, and then throws it, high. Bounce, bounce - toss. It arcs up into the air, and you look up to catch it before it hits you in the nose.

“Really,” you say, because it’s been a few seconds and he’s still not said anything.

Harry bounces the ball normally, and you catch it. “I liked her,” he says.

“I should hope so.” You bounce it back, normally, and he does the same.

You’re back on cadence.

A few seconds go by.

“Maybe I did,” he says quietly. “Love her.”

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

“I tried,” he says.

Bounce. Bounce.

“There is no try,” you say. “Only do.”

“Maybe I tried too hard.”

“If it’s not there, it’s not there.”

Harry frowns at you. “How would you know, huh?”

“Because if it’s there…” Bounce. “It’s there.” Bounce. “So the opposite must be true too.”

“And you’ve been in love.” He sounds skeptical.

You smile. “Maybe.”

“Being in love with yourself doesn’t count.”

“Sure it does.”

He’s smiling, now, not even looking at the ball, just grinning at you, blinding you. “Going from mirror to mirror in your room doesn’t count as speed dating.” You scoff, bounce the ball too hard, but he keeps his gaze on you, steady, laughing, as he reaches up and catches it.

“Saying I love you to your reflection in the microwave doesn’t count as heartfelt declarations over dinner,” he adds on. You laugh incredulously and say, “You’re just on fire tonight, aren’t you?”

Harry grins. “Call me a slider, ‘cause I’m on a roll.”

“I’ll leave,” you warn, giving him a look.

“Don’t be so sour, dough.” He giggles in glee, totally pleased with himself.

“First you’re insulting my self-love -”

“You mean self-loaf?”

“And now you’re on about bread!”

“Hey, you started it with the baguette talk,” Harry laughs.

You sigh, trying in vain to hide your smile, and catch the ball. “Come on,” you say, standing up, “it’s getting late.” Harry follows you, still grinning. “What, wanna go to bread early tonight?”

“Shut uppp,” you whine.

Harry leans in, catching the door, and says, “Don’t worry, darling, you’re still the apple of my rye…” You groan, stepping away and starting down the stairs. “God, you’re impossible.” Harry skips down the steps behind you. “What, my jokes are too upper crust for you?”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Sense?” Harry echoes. “If you want sense, I can give you some… pumpernickel!”

“You know where you can shove your pumpernickel -”

“What, between my two buns?”

A laugh slips out of you. You’re at his apartment now, and you turn around and lean back against the door, smiling at him wordlessly for just a second, admiring him, because sometimes that’s just what you have to do when you’re in front of Harry Styles.

“I need to go,” you finally say.

Harry pouts, leaning in, and he presses kisses against your neck. You close your eyes, resting your head against the door, exposing more skin, sighing softly. Then he murmurs, “But I’ve gotta mayonnaise your buns…”

“Jesus!” you exclaim, laughing as you’re snapped out of it, and you gently push his shoulders away. “No, you can’t, Harry, we can’t.” He’s still smiling, and he kisses your nose, and you feel like that should be against one of the rules, and he says, “What, too many crumby puns?”

“I love your crumby puns,” you say impulsively, and then you frown, looking down, because you’ll kiss his nose too if you keep looking at those green eyes of his. “No, Harry, I - I stayed over last night.”

A pause.

You look up.

“Oh,” he says, and then he pulls away. “Oh, right.”

You clear your throat, and say, “I’ll see you later.”

“Later,” he echoes, nodding. “Bye,” he says.

You smile, and you can feel it not reaching your eyes, and you say, “Bye.”

As you walk away, you wonder for a moment what would’ve happened if you told him why you don’t do relationships, rather than asking him about why he doesn’t do them. You wonder how he would’ve reacted if you told him you don’t do relationships because the only person you’d consider having a relationship with is the only person who doesn’t do relationships.

Too late now, you think, and then you realize you’re crying as you leave his house.

Well. At least you’re not in a relationship.

***

He tastes like vanilla. Feels like heaven. Kisses like it’s his sole purpose in life.

His scent, taste, touch, lingers on you for hours, days, decades after On nights. The vivid memory of his fingers, tongue, body, leaves you breathless, crying, blissful, through days, Off nights, lonely mornings.

Tonight’s an Off night. You stayed over last night. It’s beginning to just be every other night, which wasn’t exactly the intention of the rule in the first place, but you really just can’t bring yourself to care.

You can’t even bring yourself to care that what’s happening right now is basically - well, it’s basically sex. You’re at some club, bar, whatever, and he’s all over you, you’re all over him, and he’s so close you can feel his breath, feel his want, in waves on your skin.

He doesn’t kiss you though.

Because that would break a rule.

It’s tantalizing, really, because his lips ghost over your skin and his hands are everywhere and nowhere at once and you just need him to touch you. He’s simultaneously overwhelming your senses and depriving you of him and his hands and his lips and his touch.

You’re pretty hammered by the time the two of you are back at your apartment. The high’s wearing down, though, and you can feel all the energy seeping out of you. Your eyelids start to feel very heavy… like they’re being weighed down by little butterflies, tiny blue wings fluttering, teeny insect legs doing dances on your eyelids…

“Help me out, darling,” Harry murmurs, and you sluggishly maneuver your limbs to help him slide off your outfit. You giggle at the feel of his fingers slipping off your bra to tug a soft t-shirt over your head.

“If you wanted to get me naked, Styles,” you say, stumbling over your words, “all you had to do was ask…” Harry sighs, pulling your covers up towards your chest. “Don’t move unless you have to throw up,” he says. “I’m gonna get water and… medicine, or something, for tomorrow.”

“Don’t go,” you whine, pouting, and Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

“No…”

He’s back before you know it, and you hear him set something down on your nightstand, and the butterflies are tap dancing and apparently they have some industrial glue or something because all you want to do is shut your eyes and sleep for hours… and hours…

Harry stays for a second, and you want to look at him, examine him, watch his facial expressions and study the way he looks at you and decide whether or not it’s the same way you look at him, but those butterflies are relentless.

Your voice is just a whisper when the floor creaks because Harry’s moving and you say, “Please stay,” because Harry can save you from those butterflies, right? “I can’t, love,” Harry says, and you want to point out that if he can call you love, he can certainly stay for a few hours and save you from the butterflies.

But that’s a lot of words, so you say, “Please,” instead.

“Darling…”

The butterflies do a jig. You open your eyes when they bounce, relieving the pressure on your lids for a moment, and your eyes are fluttering but you can just make out Harry in front of you. He looks conflicted.

“Just for a second,” you say.

“But last night…”

“I won’t try anything if you won’t,” you say, half-smiling tiredly, because you know you’re starting to convince him, and the prospect of Harry touching you softly, comfortingly, sweetly, is making those butterflies fly all the way to your tummy and suddenly you have the energy to smile.

He sighs, heavily, and you smile more because he walks around and the bed dips as he crawls in next to you. You feel his arms around you. You turn to face him, because nearly all the butterflies are in your tummy now and you don’t feel like your eyes are glued shut anymore and you wanna see those green eyes of his.

“Hi,” you say.

Harry closes his eyes. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I’m not tired anymore.” You want to see his eyes.

“Yeah, but I am.”

“Let’s have coffee so you’re not.”

“Tomorrow.”

There’s a second of silence. He’s falling asleep. You have the sudden urge to kiss his nose. It’s right in front of you, he’s right in front of you, and you study him the way you wanted to earlier except now his eyes are closed.

He’s so pretty. You want to kiss him.

“Harry?” you whisper.

“Hmm.”

“I’m sad.”

He smiles.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to smile when someone tells you they’re sad.”

“My bad.”

“Yeah, your bad, Styles. Make it up to me. Kiss me.” You make a kissy noise.

The smile disappears, and he opens his eyes. He’s frowning now, and a flash of panic shoots through you because he’s mad now and he’ll leave, and you hurry, backtrack, “I mean - I mean…” You sniffle. “I don’t know what I mean.”

“You don’t mean anything,” Harry says, “because you’re drunk.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“Oh, don’t do this,” he mutters, sitting up.

You sit up too, reaching for his arm, and you say, “Sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t -”

He looks at you, and then his gaze softens, and then you feel tears on your cheeks and you realize you’re crying and you’re crying because you want to kiss him but apparently he thinks you’re crying because he was sharp with you and -

“Don’t cry,” he says, whispering, and he leans forward and thumbs away the tears on your cheeks. The butterflies waltz across your eyelids, and you close your eyes and lean into his touch and he’s cupping your cheek and he says, “I’m sorry.”

Then he breaks a rule.

He kisses you. Gently, on the cheek, where your tears were.

You melt into him. He kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your nose.

“Don’t go,” you whisper.

He holds you close, kisses you once on the lips. “I won’t.”

***

The bed’s cold.

Surprise, surprise.

Rubbing at your throbbing temples, you gulp down the medicine and water he’d left you.

After a few more moments of lying motionless on the bed, you sit up with a groan. You wonder where Harry is. Perhaps he’s doing yoga. Or cooking breakfast. Maybe he’s baking cookies. Who knows. Not you, certainly.

The floor’s cold. You scowl at it. Fuck Harry Styles and his pristine hardwood floors.

You walk towards the kitchen, getting your annoyed frown ready for when he asks if you slept well. You debate hugging him instead of replying like normal. Maybe you’ll kiss him. Or just tell him you love him.

Smiling lazily at the thought, you step into the kitchen.

It’s empty.

Your smile disappears.

Probably doing yoga, then. There’s a cup of coffee on the counter, though, so you grab it before doing anything else. You sigh, wrapping your fingers around it. It’s still warm. You take a sip and go to wipe some crumbs off the counter.

Then you see the note.

Out. See you later. xxH.

“Oh,” you say, out loud.

It’s not quite unusual, per se, but you’re more than a little surprised. Also, you’re wondering how recently he left if the coffee’s still hot. You’re a bit irked you didn’t wake up just a few minutes earlier. Would’ve been nice to catch him in the act.

You take another sip of the coffee, studying the note. His handwriting’s nice.

Sighing, you turn around and walk back upstairs. Your head still hurts.

After getting dressed, you drag yourself into the blinding sunlight and into an Uber. You stare at your phone the entire way home. It doesn’t ring, or chime, or vibrate, or do anything more than reflect your frowning face back at you.

Actually, it does light up a few times, but nothing’s from the right person. That only makes you more annoyed. Your head hurts really badly. He doesn’t text, or call, or FaceTime, the entire day.

Or the next.

You text him a few times, call him a few more.

Nothing.

Zero. Zilch. Nada.

Until a week later, when he knocks on your door.

***

He smiles at you when you open the door. “Hi,” he says. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” you say, hesitantly, and you step back to let him in. He walks in and sits on your couch. He fidgets for a second, and then stands up again. He starts to pace. You watch him, waiting for him to talk.

“I went on a date last week,” he finally says.

Your brows jump. For a second, a billion thoughts rush through your head - what about the ex, was it just you, if he wanted to date why didn’t he ask you, was this the first time he’d been with somebody else since being with you, why the hell was he telling you this, were you the only one going about life as if the “relationship” was exclusive even though it wasn’t, what the fuck is going on - and then you reply, “Congratulations.”

“The night after… I left you. It was a little weird.”

Swallowing thickly, you ask, “So… did it go well?”

Harry frowns looking at the floor. “Yeah,” he says.

“Didja take ‘em home?”

Harry’s smile fades, and he looks up at you. “Er - yeah.”

“And you got laid?”

Now Harry’s frowning. “Yeah.”

“That’s great. Why’ve you been radio silent?”

“Because…” He fades off. “I don’t know.”

You pause for a second, not sure what to say.

Harry bites his lip. “You’re upset,” he says.

Stunned, you blink. “What?” you laugh incredulously.

“You’re upset,” Harry says again.

“Am I?” you ask, sarcasm dripping from your words. “Am I, really? Tell me more. Explain my emotions. ‘cause shit, Styles, apparently you’ve got all your emotions figured out - I mean, damn, you’re so fucking figured out that you can kiss away my tears one night and fuck someone else the next. Your versatility is to be fucking admired, Harry.”

There’s a beat of silence.

He closes his eyes, puts his head in his hands. “I wasn’t even gonna tell you,” he mutters. “I was just gonna be a prat and move on and never talk to you again because technically we’re not dating - I mean - not technically - we’re not dating, we’re not -” He coughs. “We’re not dating,” he repeats weakly.

He looks up again. “But then I couldn’t,” he says. “I couldn’t…” He laughs lowly, wryly. “I couldn’t stay away from you, as cliche as that sounds. I wasn’t even gonna come here, I was gonna - I don’t know, I was gonna… plan it out, make it special, show you I fucked up, but I… I was driving home and then I turned onto your street and suddenly…”

He takes a deep breath and then tells you, “I’m sorry.”

You soften. “Yeah,” you say.

He starts to say something and stops. He reaches out, then pulls away. He turns around, running a hand through his hair, and then clears his throat and sits down on the floor. He leans on the couch, slides the coffee table aside, and pulls a small bouncy ball out of his pocket. You watch, confused, and then he tosses the ball at you. You catch it just before it hits your TV.

“I used to get these at the dentist,” he says, holding up his hands for you to throw it back.

“Harry,” you say, frowning at him.

He sighs again and puts his hands down. You watch him, fiddling with the ball.

“She cheated on me,” he says after a second.

You bite your lip, and then sit down and gently bounce the ball towards him.

“I loved her,” he says.

He bounces the ball back at you.

You catch it.

“I love you more,” Harry says.

You swallow thickly, and then you bounce the ball back.

“I figure… I figure you can’t cheat on me if we’re not in a relationship.”

The bouncy ball is smaller than the tennis ball. It’s harder to catch.

You finally say something. “I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“I know that,” Harry says.

Bounce, bounce, bounce. The ball is pink and blue. It’s mesmerizing.

“I wanna kiss you,” Harry says quietly, and when you look up, his eyes are on the ball still, and his ears are tinged pink. “I wanna kiss you all the time. ‘specially when you smile. I wanna kiss you when you laugh. When you cry. Right now.”

You don’t know what to say. So you settle on, “Thanks.”

He glances up at you, smiling, finally, and it’s nice to see. “You’re welcome.”

You bounce the ball towards him, and he catches it. Then he stands up. He walks over to you and offers you his hand. You take it, and stand up. “I wanna break a rule,” you whisper. He smiles, giving a small shrug. “Don’t have to.”

You raise a brow.

“Can’t break a rule if it’s not there in the first place,” he says.

“Right,” you say, a smile growing on your lips. “So no more rules.”

Harry bites his lip. He looks nervous. “The rules are no more.”

You smile. “It’s official.”

“You’re smiling,” Harry whispers, leaning in.

“Wanna kiss me?”

“Mhmm.”

You lean in, too, smiling more. “Well, what’s stopping you?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Harry says quietly, and he kisses you.

***

The bed… is warm.

You’re warm.

And smiling.

Your head’s on Harry’s chest, and the first thing you see when you open your eyes is his moth tattoo. He’s awake, or at least you assume he is by the way his hand gently traces shapes on your bare shoulder.

“How long’ve you been up?” you mumble, looking up at him.

“Hours,” Harry whispers, kissing your forehead.

“How kind of you to stay with me.”

Harry kisses you again, and you giggle and let him shift you so you’re on top of him. “Better make it up to me,” Harry says with a smirk. You lean down, moving your hips slightly, and nibble on his ear. “Excited to see me, are you?”

“Excited to finally be able to move,” Harry replies, pressing kisses along your shoulder. “My arm’s fallen asleep.” You laugh, kissing him more, unable to keep the smile off your face, and he’s smiling too, and you laugh and kiss him and you decide to stay.

***

okay this has been in my drafts forever lmao but here it is!!! hope you like it!!! if you did, a reblog and some feedback would be amazing! thanks for reading 💜

masterlist | ask

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Changeling Chapter 1

A DP Fae Au fic. I've been promising you this for so long XD. I can hardly believe I'm finally delivering, even if it's only one chapter for now.

Chapter 1: In the Beginning, There Was an Offer

They studied legends. According to those legends, today, Beltane, was a time of renewal, of birth, of fertility.

It was not supposed to be… this. Their dreams weren’t supposed to be crushed today. Not under this sun, not under these blue skies and among softly blooming flowers.

This kind of news should have come with rain. It should have come with storms.

Maddie wiped tears out of her eyes and Jack patted her on the back. The air smelled sweet and dusty at the same time. The bench was uncomfortable.

“We could try adoption,” said Jack. He sounded shocked, too. Drained. His voice was pulled taught over a great hollowness. “Lots of people adopt. We can- can do some good in the world, maybe.”

Maddie sniffed and cried harder. She’d wanted her own children, and Jack knew it. Adoption was all very well and good, but at this point the suggestion felt like some consolation prize, and she felt terrible for even thinking it was, because Jack was right, it could be a good thing, and…

She wanted children. Her own children.

“Excuse me, I believe I can help.”

There was something about how he said that, about how the voice wound and slipped through her ears that had Maddie’s head snapping up. The man who stood to the side of the bench wore a long coat with a deep hood. Symbols, symbols that Maddie had spent hours, days, weeks, researching were stitched into the fabric. His eyes glittered in the shadows. The fingers of his hands, clasped in front of him, were too long, their coloring faintly lavender, as if they had been dipped in ink and retained the stain even after they’d been washed clean.

This was not a human.

“How?” asked Maddie, feeling hope drip back into her limbs even as Jack tensed behind her. “How can you help?”

“We shouldn’t have done that,” said Jack as they drove home. “We really shouldn’t have done that. Maddie, they’re evil, there’s always a catch and it’ll always be looking for a way to push us into it.”

“The catch is in the open,” said Maddie, leaning back against the seat of the car and closing her eyes. “It isn’t as if it’s in the fine print and we’re going to stumble into it. We have one, and then I get my tubes tied, or you get snipped, and we go on with our lives.”

“What if we have twins? Triplets? Maddie, we should have talked about this.”

“There wasn’t any time,” Maddie said defensively. “I had to decide right away.”

“What are we going to do if we have twins, Maddie?”

Maddie bit her lip, her eyes opening without her full permission as she thought. “We know how to deal with things like him.”

The car jerked just a little to the right as Jack failed to suppress his flinch. “Do you remember our work on motivations? On why they take artists, musicians, children?” he asked. He forged on without waiting for an answer. “Creative sterility, we called it. For this one to be able to cure sterility, he has to be powerful. I don’t think nails in pockets and inside-out clothing is going to stop him.”

Such protections were hit and miss to begin with. One faerie might hate bread, another might love it. The sound of bells would drive off one, and another would wear them in their hair. Even cold iron was no guarantee against them.

“We’ll have to find something better, then,” she said, firmly.

Maddie laughed. Not a twin. A single child showed on the ultrasound monitor. A girl. A beautiful baby girl. Perfect.

On the other side of the bed, Jack sunk into a chair, obviously relieved. “She’s healthy?” he asked the OB/GYN.

“Completely,” she said. “This is quite the miracle the two of you put together here.” She shook her head. “We must have gotten something wrong during our examination. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am to have put you through all that, and I won’t blame you if you wanted to find a new doctor.”

“It’s fine,” said Maddie, patting the woman’s arm. “It happens.” Yes, being approached by a powerful fae just ‘happened.’ “The important thing now is to make sure there aren’t any complications.”

They made sure Jazz was born on a Sunday, with two middle names, one of which Maddie made sure to forget. They scheduled her baptism for as early a date as possible, even though both Jack and Maddie were as lapsed as it was possible to be.

Precautions.

Jack had his surgery only a month later.

They were safe. They had won.

The family of three snuggled together on the couch. Well, Jazz snuggled inasmuch as a newborn was able. They watched TV.

“Jack, dear,” said Maddie, roused to awareness by a news story about a rising young businessman. “Is that our Vlad?”

Jack blinked at the screen. “I think you’re right,” said Jack. “I haven’t seen him since college. I don’t think we’ve talked to him since college.” He frowned. “Did something happen? The three of us used to be so close… He was the only one in the whole folklore department that would put up with our theories, do you remember?”

“I don’t know,” said Maddie, trying to remember. “It was like he was there one day, gone the next.”

“Do you think he’ll mind us getting back in touch?”

“Only one way to find out.”

(As it turned out, Vlad did not particularly care to get back in touch.)

Jazz was not a normal child.

She saw too much. She understood too much. Her teeth grew in early. She learned how to get the milk out of the fridge at about the same time she learned how to walk. Her eyes were too large, even for her age. She didn’t start talking until she was almost two, and when she did, it was in complete sentences. She took to responsibility like a duck to water. No, she demanded responsibility, from waking up the family in the morning to answering the door. She loved rules and games, and the rules of games.

But they had never raised a child before. Perhaps this was simply how they were. Perhaps this was within the expected variety of humanity.

Most importantly, Jazz was theirs. Completely.

Maddie was not terribly concerned when her period missed a few days, or even when it was late by a week. But when it started pushing two…

She bought a test.

It came back positive.

Danny’s birth was different from Jazz’s in almost every particular. Instead of being infused with a sense of joy, proceedings were overshadowed by dread. Jazz had been born in a hospital. Danny would be born at home, behind every ward and protection Jack and Maddie could conceive of. The midwife they hired was more than used to odd belief systems and threw a few of her own traditions in as well.

It couldn’t hurt.

It didn’t help.

After the birth, Maddie held Danny in her arms. He’d been born in a caul, which had been slightly alarming, even though Maddie had known that it was a thing that happened regularly, and that, by most accounts, it was lucky.

He was such a tiny little thing. Smaller than Jazz. Which made sense, he was a little premature.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she promised him, whispering into the silky, wispy curls on top of his head.

Someone knocked on the door. Maddie jerked her head up, even though the front door wasn’t at all visible from the basement. Jack flinched hard enough to drop the towels he was holding. The midwife froze.

“Hospitality,” croaked Maddie. Those rules were always humanity’s first defense against the uncanny. Don’t want something in your house? In your life? Don’t invite it in.

Although, she had arguably already invited in the fae they were worried about. Hence all the other contingencies.

The knock came again. And again, louder.

Jack let out a sigh of relief. “It can’t get in,” he murmured. Then he smiled, broad and bright. “We just have to wait it out.”

Maddie nodded, tears in her eyes. The knocking continued. This was far from ideal, obviously, but she’d been half expecting the fae to simply rip through the wards like tissue paper.

Perhaps the theory that more powerful fae were more bound by custom, more vulnerable to their weaknesses, held water? She and Jack had always dismissed it as fanciful, but they’d never been able to gather evidence before.

Then, a sound that made her heart stop.

“I’ll get it!” called Jazz, childish voice muffled by distance and the obstacle of the floors above. She’d been told not to answer the door when Danny was being born, to wait patiently in her room, but for all her unusual maturity, she was only three.

Faster than she’d ever seen him move, Jack bolted for the stairs, pushing aside several pieces of furniture and medical equipment in his haste. He took the stairs four at a time and nearly taking the door off the hinges.

He wasn’t fast enough.

“Who are you, mister?”

“Me?” said a voice Maddie had prayed against ever hearing again. “I am your uncle, my dear. Did your parents not tell you about me?”

Jazz tipped her head to one side and stared up at the man, making her eyes extra big. She knew it made a lot of people uncomfortable when she looked at them like that, so she treated it as a kind of test.

The man smiled, kind and patient. He was kind of funny looking, but in a good way.

“No,” she said finally. “Are you Mommy’s brother or Daddy’s brother?”

“Ah, you already know about uncles, then. I was worried I’d have to explain. May I come in? I would like to greet your little brother, as your parents promised I could. I have gifts for both of you.”

Jazz liked gifts. “Okay,” she said. “But I dunno if Danny’s been born yet. Mommy said it can take a while. And I dunno if he can have gifts, yet. He’s gonna be really little. That’s what all my books say, and also the internet.”

“Jazz! Don’t!”

Jazz turned to see her Daddy skid around the corner, just as her uncle stepped across the threshold.

“Not quite on time, I fear,” said uncle. “Young Jazz has already let me in.” He patted Jazz on the head. She ducked away and stuck her tongue out, like she always did when Daddy did that. “Having greeted my niece, I would like to see my nephew.”

The fae did walk past the rest of the wards as if they weren’t even there. It didn’t even break them, just ignored them. Some of them he even commented on, as if approving.

He gazed down at Danny with his otherworldly eyes. The midwife had retreated to the corner of the room, refusing to look at what was happening. Jack had attempted to attack the fae with his bare hands, only to be pushed away with something approaching gentleness by an invisible wall. Maddie didn’t know where Jazz was. Upstairs, somewhere, hopefully.

“So beautiful,” the fae said, brushing Danny’s forehead with his off-color fingers. Faster than Maddie could react, he had a pair of scissors in his hand and was cutting off a lock of hair. “A lovely child.” The lock of Danny’s hair disappeared into the fae’s coat.

If Maddie didn’t know better, she’d call the expression on the fae’s face love. But she did know better. Love was as incomprehensible to the fae as fae laws were to humans, so she’d call it by its true name: avarice.

She tightened her grip on Danny, as if she could keep the fae from plucking him from her arms.

“Not now,” said the fae, after another moment. “Soon, I should think.” It ran a hand over Danny’s head. “Soon.” The fae looked up, meeting Maddie’s eyes. “I will return,” he said, “in one year.”

“For what?” demanded Maddie, unwilling to get her hopes up.

The fae blinked slowly. “For his birthday.” He tilted his head. “To determine whether or not he is ready. Perhaps, also, to visit my niece.”

“You stay away from Jazz!” snarled Maddie. “You have no claim on her.”

The fae merely shrugged, then smiled, slyly. “She does, however, have a claim on me. I promised her gifts, before your husband whisked her away.”

“Gifts,” repeated Maddie, hoarsely.

“For the sister of my child, yes,” said the fae, voice and face as calm and even as ever. “Would you ask me to forswear myself?”

“Then,” said Maddie, “you can leave them here, with us.”

“You will give them to her?”

“Yes,” said Maddie, through her teeth. She did not say how long she would let Jazz be in the presence of these ‘gifts.’

“Very well, then,” said the fae, pulling a number of boxes out from beneath his coat. “One year. Be prepared.”

And, with that, the fae faded from view, as if he had been an illusion all along.

Danny was still with them. Their son was still with them. Still theirs.

“One year,” she said, breathless. “Only one year.”

“One whole year,” corrected Jack, rushing to her side. “You’ll see, Maddie. Next time, that fae won’t know what hit him!”

“One whole year,” echoed Maddie, weakly.

“One year to prepare,” said Jack. “Look what we did with half that time! We’re Fentons! We can do it!”

“We can do it,” breathed Maddie. “One year. We’ll be ready.”

Jack nodded, firmly. “We’ll be ready.”

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2021 #dannymay 2021 day 30: fantasy #fae au #changeling #dp fae au

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httpsaiki · 3 years

Note

Saiki with an s/o who just cups his cheeks and tells him they live him for the first time ever.

Hi! This is adorable, thank you so much for this request!! I did a story, not headcanons and it kind of got off track, but I hope you like it!

—

I went into way too much detail about cupcakes in this, I got carried away, oops. I'm back, though! After months I finally refound my love for this show and along with it my inspiration for writing! I hope this isn't too bad, I wrote it all in one go. I have been writing a personal project, but I doubt I've improved that much in the last couple months. Thank you if you read this! I hope to have more to post soon!

Reader is gender neutral!

WC: 1533

Italics represents Saiki speaking telepatically!

Saiki with a S/O who cups his cheeks and tells him they love him for the first time.

—————————————————–

Your week had been anything but easy. Balancing a school and social life wasn’t supposed to be easy, sure, but this was getting ridiculous. It seemed every assignment was due at some point this past week and every class had some sort of test or exam. On top of everything, your friend group decided it was the perfect time to meet up to study nearly every single day. It was completely and entirely exhausting. You hardly got a free moment to yourself.

To make matters worse, you hadn’t seen Kusuo the entire time. He was part of your friend group, yeah, but by some miracle, he managed to dodge every study session. It was almost like he had superpowers. On most weeks like this, Kusuo was the only thing that could get you through it, being around him was oddly healing - even if he’s a jerk about it sometimes, you miss him dearly. He had some sort of ability to keep you calm and content, just being around him was enough to relieve some of the day's stress. Kusuo was there for you no matter what, whether he was willing to admit that or not. You knew it to be true and he knows you know. That’s enough.

You could feel him rolling his eyes if you were to tell him anything you just thought, that is. That never stopped you, though, you needed to make sure he knows you care for him. No, care is not a strong enough word. You’re sure you love him, there’s no doubt in your mind. How can you go about telling him? He of all people definitely deserves to know he’s loved.

Plotting how you’d tell Kusuo that you love him turned out to be a fantastic stress reliever. Laughing all you want about the cheesy, made-up scenarios you come up with did wonders to calm you down. Anything from a mock proposal on the beach, to screaming it off a cliff. Most of them weren’t realistic, nor to either of your tastes. But they were fun, and that’s all that mattered. You finally decided on telling him the one way you knew he’d like best. Sweets. Content with your idea, you prepared for bed. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

You woke bright and early. So early, in fact, that the sun had hardly even began to rise. There was work to be done. Quietly, you made your way down to the kitchen, careful enough not to wake anyone up. You decided on a quick and easy breakfast, you could never go wrong with toast. While the bread was toasting, you got out cupcake trays and your cake recipe, reading it over and gathering any ingredients you need. You left any ingredients that needed to be refrigerated in the fridge but prepared measuring cups and bowls for them. Anything that didn’t need to be kept cold was put into the appropriate bowl - wet or dry. As you were measuring out the last of your dry ingredients, you heard a faint pop from the toaster and decided it was time to take a break and eat. Your toast was surprisingly good, probably because you felt you worked for it.

Now was for the easier parts, combining the rest of your recipe and then pouring it into the cupcake trays. You went about your day, waiting for them to finish baking and then cool down. Once they were cool, it was around lunchtime. The perfect time to finish them up with icing. Carefully, you took your time to write out “I love u Kusuo!” Putting each character on its own cupcake - unfortunately having to shorten the “you” so that it would fit on the 12 of them. To add a final touch, you added a couple small heart candies onto some of them. They looked great and you were proud of your work.

As soon as the cupcakes were packaged up and ready to go, you headed immediately out the door. Kusuo didn’t usually like when you showed up suddenly or unannounced, but you carried treats and an important message this time. You were sure he wouldn’t mind too much.

The walk to his house was uneventful as always. You were lucky enough not to run into anyone you knew on the way there. You didn’t want to have to explain yourself and a small part of you expected that running into somebody would only strike disaster - similar to the past week. There was a small skip in your step on the way there, happy to finally see Kusuo after that long, painful week. You didn’t let any of your nerves get to you. Kusuo would take your message well. He had to.

Or, that’s what you were telling yourself as you nervously stood at his doorway. Ringing his doorbell had never been so frightening. You braved it, though, and your finger found its way up to his doorbell. The muffled ring could be heard even from the outside and approaching footsteps that sounded awfully familiar came shortly after.

When the door opened you were greeted with the face you craved to see all week. He looked as unbothered as ever, but the second he stepped aside and his arm gestured to let you in you knew he was happy to see you. With a smile on your face, you went to step inside and-

Apparently, your awful week had yet to cease. Right as you walked in the door, towards Kusuo, your foot caught the bottom of the doorframe. You tripped on it, the box of cupcakes falling along with you. "Oh!” It came out choked and as if you hadn’t meant to say it at all, “No!”

You quickly peeked inside of the box. The icing writing you had worked so hard on was smudged, no longer legible. They were still edible, but the message had been erased. Kusuo was staring down at the cupcakes, an almost puzzled expression on his face. He kept the same expression as his eyes met yours.

“Sorry,” you apologized quickly, “they were for you, I didn’t mean to- to make a mess of them.”

Kusuo only nodded, but it was enough to tell you there was no problem and you hadn’t even needed to apologize. He wasn’t mad.

“Listen, Kusuo I,” you cut yourself off, now that the cupcakes weren’t an option how did you want to tell him?

“Screw it.” You muttered under your breath as you stood up from the ground, dusting yourself off. Now back on your feet, you quickly reached up, placing both your hands on Kusuo’s cheeks. Your thumbs found their way right on his cheekbones, running softly along them. The rest of your fingers could reach to his hair and you had to resist completely tangling them in it. His expression was entirely neutral once more, at the very least he wasn’t offended by your actions.

“I really love you, Kusuo.”

He smiled. He actually smiled. It was genuine, it was beautiful, everything you could’ve asked for and more. His hands were in your cheeks too at this point and he had an uncharacteristically intense look in his eyes.

“I really love you, too.”

Such a simple statement and yet you could feel your cheeks burning up from it. Even worse, his hands were on his face so he could feel it too. He was so close, still smiling at you. You’d never imagined his face was capable of making such a dopey, lovesick smile and yet here he is. And then he hugged you. Tight. He’d never held you like that before, it was so loving and warm. It hardly lasted a couple seconds, so short that you were almost sure you imagined it. As soon as you registered it, it was over, and Kusuo’s normal, unbothered expression remained on his face.

“We shouldn’t let your hard work go to waste, should we? Want to come enjoy these with me?” Kusuo moved down to pick up the box, staring down at them in admiration even if they were a mess by now. You didn’t bother to reply to him, still slightly in shock. You chose to simply follow after him into the other room as he placed the box on a table. Kusuo wasted no time in grabbing one of the cupcakes, his signature sweets-eating-face taking over as soon as he took a bite. It was endearing, to say the least. As if he sensed your hesitation, he nudged the box towards you, encouraging you to take one as well. Despite their state, they still tasted amazing, all your hard work really paid off.

The rest of the day was spent comfortably. You refused to leave Kusuo’s side after everything that happened. You took to ranting about your week and how much you missed him while sat comfortably next to him, right where you wanted to be. Maybe the past week was worth it. You finally got to tell Kusuo you love him and got plenty of time together to make up for it. It had been bad, but like all the times before, Kusuo had a way of making you feel better.

#the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki k #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #kusuo saiki x reader #saiki kusuo #kusuo saiki #saiki #my writing

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whumpy-writings · 3 years

Text

Fed and Watered

Masterlist

The story of 023, aka Henri, and Aldon continues. @thecyrulik asked if Henri's life was going to get better, so here is some comfort and fluff for poor Henri. This post is also dedicated to @whumpsy-daisy , 023's number 1 fan!

CW: Vampires, slavery, dehumanization, anxiety, starvation, disordered eating, mention of past physical and mental abuse, nudity (non-explicit/non-sexual), scars, (and fluff, I promise)

The last thing he remembered was Master telling him to breathe. Now the ground beneath him was soft.. No. Not the ground. A bed. Henri’s eyes flew open in a panic. Humans weren’t allowed on beds. He rolled to the side, falling off the bed and onto the wooden floor. Oof. He rubbed his sore nose, wincing. Henri looked around the room. It was large with dark wooden furniture giving it a sense of finery. The walls were lined with red tapestries which depicted various scenes from folklore.

Henri’s eyes stopped when they reached a small table. On the table was a bowl, and he could see the steam rising from it. Terror swept through him. Master had said it would be a couple days but apparently had changed his mind. Henri crawled over so he could clearly be seen from the door and knelt, heart pounding. Breathe, he told himself. In... out...in...out. His mind started to wander. This was his life, all he was was a meal for his betters. But sometimes… sometimes he still wished for more. He tried to push those thoughts away but they always came back, sneaking into the corners of his mind that weren’t completely dark. Thoughts of a life without fear. A life without pain. He jumped as the door opened, heart in his throat. Master stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders almost filling the entire frame. Master’s eyes fell on Henri, and Henri had to suppress the urge to flinch. A frown.

“You don’t need to do that here, Henri, you can stand up.” Henri rushed to get to his feet, a wave of dizziness hitting him. Next thing he knew, Master was next to him, grabbing his arm so he wouldn’t fall to the floor.

“Careful there.” Master glanced over to the table with the soup, a crease on his brow. “Why haven’t you eaten, Henri? You must be starving.” Henri looked from the soup to Master and back again, confused. He wasn’t allowed to eat yet. Henri tipped his head to the side, exposing his neck for Master.

“No, I don’t want that,” Master said quickly.

Henri let out a sob. He was so hungry, but he couldn’t eat yet. “Please Master, please I’m so hungry and I can’t eat until you have.”

…

Aldon froze, shocked. He had never heard of such a thing. “Was that your old Master’s rule?”

“Yes sir.” Aldon considered this, horror building in his stomach.

“How often did your Master feed?” he asked.

“Usually about three times a week, sir,” Henri replied quietly.

Aldon gaped. No wonder the human was so weak. Humans needed to eat at least once every day, much more often than vampires. Aldon took a deep breath, thinking of what to say.

“Here there is a different rule. I need you to be healthy, and eating three times a week is not going to accomplish that. You’re to eat everyday, whether or not it’s a feeding day. Anytime you’re hungry, let me know and I’ll get you some food.”

Henri looked at him in shock, big blue eyes huge. Then he started to cry. “Thank you for your kindness, Master.”

Aldon’s heart broke a little at being thanked for granting the bare minimum for survival. “Of course, Henri. Now why don’t you eat your soup? I’m going to go draw a bath for you.”

…

The soup was heavenly. It was warm, with potatoes and carrots and onions. There was a slice of bread too, which filled his mouth with yeasty deliciousness. Henri savored each bite. When he was done he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. He was full. He hadn’t been full in… he didn’t even know how long.

...

Aldon felt the bath water. Not too hot, not too cold. He turned off the tap, drying his hands on the nearby towel. Time to get Henri. Aldon walked down the hall, gently rapping on the door before poking his head in. “The bath is all ready. Did you eat?”

Henri nodded vigorously, a ghost of a smile on his pale face. “Yes Master, Thank you Master.” He got out of the chair, hesitating for an instance. “Master…” he said, face going white, “I’m sorry for using the furniture without permission. Please forgive me.”

Aldon took a calming breath. Henri’s old master was certifiably, undeniably, an awful person. “No need to apologize Henri, you are allowed to use any of the furniture that you want.”

The relief was apparent on Henri’s face.“Thank you, Master.”

Aldon turned around hurriedly so Henri would not see the rage on his face. The ways some people treated their humans were just despicable.

“Come on Henri, let’s get you cleaned up.” Henri followed Aldon down the hall to the bathroom. It was small, with a white clawfoot tub and floors and walls covered in white ceramic tiles. This was one of the few houses in this part of the city that had the luxury of running water. Aldon turned back to Henri, only to find the man already undressed, pants on the floor. Aldon turned away immediately, cheeks burning.

“Is something the matter, Master?” Henri asked, voice filled with uncertainty and a tinge of fear

“No, I just was going to give you privacy to change. You’re allowed privacy here,” he quickly added.

“Oh,” a pause. “Thank you, Master,” Henri said quietly.

“You can climb in the tub now.” Aldon averted his eyes as Henri climbed in, then turned to the human sitting in the tub, bubbles up to his chest. “Would you like help bathing, or will you be able to do it on your own?” he asked carefully.

Henri considered this for a moment. “I would like a bit of help with my back and my hair, if you would be willing to. This hair is… a mess.” he said, gesturing to the greasy blond mop on his head.

“I can definitely help you with that.” Aldon knelt down next to the tub and picked up a cloth. He could hear Henri’s elevated breathing and could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. “You’re okay Henri, how about we take a couple breaths?” Aldon led Henri through a couple rounds of deep breathing, until the human had calmed down.

“I’m sorry Master,” Henri said, staring down at the water, regret thick in his voice.

“Hey,” Aldon said, reaching out and taking Henri’s chin in his hand, gently making him look up at him. Henri’s blue eyes sparkled, threatening to spill tears. “I know this has been a big change for you. Anybody would be nervous in your place. I’m really proud of how well you’re doing.”

Henri blushed. “Thank you, Master.” he said.

“Of course, Henri,” Aldon said, picking up his cloth and dipping it in the water. He started to gently rub his back. Aldon pressed his lips together. Every single rib and vertebra was visible, creating deep ridges in the skin. Henri was covered in dirt and the water quickly starting to take on a brownish hue. Aldon paused when he glanced at Henri’s neck. There was a scar there, two actually. They were parallel to each other, running from the base of his skull all the way to the collarbone. Almost as if… someone had dragged their fangs down his neck. Aldon pursed his lips, fingers lingering on the scar. Henri froze, beneath his touch. “Henri, who did this to you?”

Henri didn’t respond for a second, and Aldon started to worry that maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned it. Then finally Henri said, “Mas… Old Master” A pause. “I… I tried to run away.” Aldon cocked an eyebrow at that. Henri continued in a rush. “I know I shouldn’t have, that I should have been grateful for his protection. I didn’t make it far. This,” his fingers went to the scars, lightly tracing them “was my punishment. He wanted to make sure I knew who I belonged to. I’ll never try to run away from you, Master. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Aldon couldn’t see Henri’s face, but he could hear the sadness in his voice. Anger bubbled to the surface. How dare someone do that to another creature? Aldon pushed his feelings down. He would deal with it later.

“Thank you for telling me that, Henri.” There was silence for a while, Aldon moving on to Henri’s hair. It was matted with dirt and grease, tangled into knots. Aldon worked his fingers into the knots, slowly loosening them. After a while of working, he noticed that Henri was much more relaxed, his breathing steady. He smiled to himself. “Well, I think I’m done. Can you rinse your hair for me?”

Henri nodded, ducking quickly under the water. When he came up he was smiling. “Thank you, Master. That was wonderful.”

Aldon gave a quick nod, not trusting his voice. He cleared his throat. “You can finish up, and then get changed. There are some clothes for you on the table.” Henri nodded. Aldon left the room, quietly shutting the door behind them. Then he leaned back against it, head tilted back, and smiled.

Tag list: @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whump-cravings @thecyrulik @neverthelass @michelleswhumpyreblogs @whumpsy-daisy

#aldon the vampire #henri the human #vampire caretaker #recovering whumpee #vampire whump #whumpblr #pet whump #comfort #fluff #vampires tw #slavery tw #dehumanization tw #scars tw #disordered eating tw #starvation tw #anxiety tw #physical abuse tw #mental abuse tw #nudity tw

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Note

Hello! First of all I have to say that your writing is the best I have read so far and you have a way with words that has me going crazy at 3 am 🤣🤣 I wanted to suggest a short story where Levi and the reader have feelings for each other and are on a mission together. Then it starts to rain and it gets really cold at night so they’re forced to seek shelter and have to spend the night together in an abandoned old house until the rain stops, and they basically get to know each other better and eventually start flirting ya know ya know? 😗Thank you so much and please feel free to add any more ideas you may have 😁

ahhh the classic, stuck with a stranger trope. I dig it :)

Summary: You spend a rainy night with your bitter captain

Word Count: 1.8K

The rain felt like needles as you rode into the wind, your cloak felt heavy and waterlogged as you struggled to see through the shower. You had lost your squad, leaving you alone in the middle of titan country. Your gear felt light, meaning that your blades were nearly gone and gas as well. In other words, you were royally fucked.

Your horse was huffing, sides rising and falling deeply as she tried to hold the pace you had set. Her head bobbed and you threaded your fingers through her mane and stood on the saddle to ease the weight on her back, and allow her to resume her natural gait.

Just as you emerged from the thin thicket of trees you had been riding in, you spotted a small cabin, and a black horse tied up out front. You recognized Captain Levi’s stallion and felt relief flood through you. You steered your mare towards the squat building and swung off once she came to a halt. Tying her up next to Levi’s stallion before jogging up the stairs. You lifted your hand and pounded on the door, a flash of lightning illuminated your form when Levi pulled the door open. His hair was dripping wet as was his clothes.

“Cadet (L/n), surprised you made it this far.” He scoffed before turning and stalking back into the cabin.

“Captain....the formation is broken.” You stated the obvious, unsure of how to respond to his jab.

“No shit, this damn rain fucks with the signals. Seen it before.” You almost weren’t sure if he even said the last part since he muttered it so quietly.

“So what do we do?” You asked, clutching your cloak anxiously.

“We wait it out idiot.” Levi grunted as he began rummaging around the small cabin’s kitchen drawers.

“What...about the formation?”

“The formation doesn’t exist anymore, what matters now is getting back to the wall.”

You remained silent, stunned by the gravity of the situation you’d found yourself in.

“Shitty eyebrows needs to stop putting the fucking formation on a pedestal, you brats need to learn how to act at your own discretion.” Levi continued as he pawed through a drawer, he pulled his hand out holding two stones. Flint, to be precise, he had already taken some of the firewood that had been sitting in the cabin and chucked it into the fireplace. You wondered how long it had sat there in the lonely cabin, who had gathered it? A child maybe? When you were younger, you had lived on a farm with your family, raising horses for the military. One of your many jobs had been to get firewood. You wondered what had happened to the people who lived here before, wondered if they could ever return.

“Oi, take off those boots. Just because nobody’s lived here in three years doesn’t mean you get to track mud inside.” He scolded and you quickly stripped yourself of your mud caked boots.

“Yes sir.” You grumbled as you numbly wandered into the kitchen, pausing when you found a small corn husk doll, very similar to the ones you once made. You picked it up, cradling its head as you held it up in the dim light. The sound of stones clicking and then the crackle of a small fire brought you back. You turned to see Levi hanging his cloak and jacket by the flames.

“Take off your cloak and jacket.” He ordered and you placed the doll down to fulfill his command. You shivered in just your shirt, which was soaked, the olive colored fabric nearly see through due to the wetness. Levi averted his eyes as he snatched your jacket and cloak from you. You dropped down to sit on the floor near the fire, staring into the flames as you allowed your mind to wander. Levi sat down as well, crossing his legs and closing his eyes as he tried to even out his breathing. The only sound was the crackling fire and the patter of rain on the old roof. You had nearly forgotten how it sounded, having lived in the castle for years now, the cozy cabin brought you back to your childhood. And before you could think better of it, you asked:

“Where are you from captain?”

“None of your concern.” He grunted, eyes still closed and face lacking any signs of emotion.

“Well, where I’m from, when it rained like this...we’d go outside and-”

“I didn’t fucking ask. Now shut up and go to sleep or something.”

“There’s no need to be so bitter Captain.” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and angling your shoulders away from him, the sting of his words. You sighed heavily and fell flat on your back, staring up at the rafters, a drop of water seeped through and landed right on your nose and you let out a huff of disgust.

“....Look” Levi’s voice was heavy and less annoyed than previously.

“If talking...makes you feel better about all of this....then I guess I don’t mind listening.” He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, bangs obscuring the top half of his face as he studied you, splayed out on the floor.

“....Thanks.”

“As I was saying, when I was younger, I used to be scared of thunder storms. But my grandma, she would make this cake. She called it thunder cake.” You closed your eyes and a dreamy smile curled onto your lips. Levi felt a pang of jealousy, being nearly 28, one would think that he could get over his childhood. But he just couldn’t seem to, he wished he grew up in the sunshine, known his family, gotten to be scared of thunder instead of men in the underground.

“-it wasn’t really anything special, just a lemon cake. But making it during the storm...she said it was magic, and you know.....I believed her.” Your voice cracked and Levi frowned, he remembered that naivety, how his mother would tell him about fairies or goblins. He had believed those stories for a time as well. But when she had died, he no longer saw beauty in the world. How could he?

“She was so smart Captain. She knew everything, how to treat a tooth ache, how to make the best bread, break a horse. I wish I could be half as wise as her.” You continued, Levi turned to look at you, your usually bright eyes seemed distant and foggy, mouth screwed into a frown, your bottom lip trembling.

“When she died, I felt so alone. I couldn’t compare, how could I? She was so strong and, I was just a shitty kid.” You scoffed bitterly, Levi understood your pain deeply, loosing people was something he was all too familiar with. He blindly reached out and let his hand awkwardly fall over your own. You froze, head turning to look at him.

“How about you? What did your...parent do to help you through the scary parts?” You asked, eyes wide and hopeful. Levi’s jaw locked as he tried to wrack his brain for something to say, you had just been so vulnerable with him. How could he not repay the favor? Especially if the two of you would die in this shitty cabin.

“She would....give me a bath, or we’d clean the house.” He said with a curt nod, remembering his mother pouring soapy water over him after he had scrapped his knee, or cried so hard that his eyes were nearly swollen shut. Yes, that was the truth, they would take a bath and then she’d tell him those shitty stories.

“That sounds nice.” You said wistfully as you turned your hand to lace your fingers with his. You sensed his tension and decided to carry on telling your own story.

“I hated cleaning, my grandma used it as punishment for me. Like when I was 10 I threw eggs at the neighbor boy after he lifted my skirt up.” You chuckled lowly at the memory.

“Sounds like he deserved it.” Levi said with the smallest of smiles. You beamed up at him and nodded.

“Yeah, he sure did. My grandma made me clean the coop for two weeks after that, and the stables.” You giggled, squeezing his hand as you laughed. He felt another wave of jealousy, wishing he had memories like yours.

“And you? Did you ever get in trouble?” You asked, rolling onto your side, pulling your hand free from his, he immediately missed the contact, not that he would admit it though.

“That’s all I did when I was younger.” Levi scoffed, looking down at you with a gleam of amusement in his gaze.

“What kind of trouble?” You pressed, resting your chin on your palm as you stared up at him.

“I bet it was with girls, you seem to be popular with the cadets.” You teased and Levi’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

“No, more like I was stealing and selling government property illegally.” He scoffed, reaching his hand down to ruffle your damp hair, you let out a bark of laughter as he grabbed the roots of your hair and shook your head playfully.

“Yeah right, you’re the strictest of all the squad leaders, as if I would believe-”

“I grew up in the underground, didn’t matter down there, just did what I had to do to put food on the table.” He shrugged, trying to keep the atmosphere light, yet stay honest with you.

“No way....that’s impressive captain-”

“Levi, call me Levi.” He said, withdrawing his hand and leaning back against the couch that was behind the two of you.

“Okay then...Levi, I call bullshit.” You said, propping yourself up on your elbow and beaming up at him. Levi glared down at you, not sure if he liked the defiance or loathed it. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, but your eyes never strayed from his and he let out a scoff.

“It’s true, I was born a bastard and escaped through the military.” You raised your brows at this, you hadn’t expected him to be honest.

“I...admire you for that, takes a strong person to overcome things like that.” You said a tad sheepishly as you averted your gaze, feeling like you had overstepped some boundaries.

“We all face our own challenges..” Levi muttered, eyes still locked on you.

“That is true.” You agreed, with a small smile thrown his way. The rain still pounded against the windows and your gaze strayed to them, watching the water stream off of the roof.

“This will all be a bad memory in the morning.” Levi said, following your gaze, he recalled how you said you’d been afraid of thunder when you were younger. He wondered if you still harbored that fear.

“I don’t think it will, I hope I can look back on it fondly.” You said, turning and smiling softly up at him, and Levi’s stomach began doing flips, his cheeks flushing at the sentiment behind your words.

“Yeah....whatever, just go to sleep brat.” He grunted, reaching down and ruffling your hair once more, you giggled and laid down, soothed to sleep by the feeling of his hand in your hair and the sound of rain on window panes.

#levi #Levi fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #Levi x You #levi x y/n #levi x reader insert #reader insert #levi is soft for u #rainy night #aot fandom #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman #attack on titan

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