#the teacups have sugar water in them. or something

[layaart]

mosscap psalmforthewildbuilt and levi scavengersreign, they would be friends

#a psalm for the wild-built #monk and robot #scavengers reign #the teacups have sugar water in them. or something #for the Bugs #also that's my way of drawing levi without being super spoilery I guess #illustration #art #2023 fanart

[phasecornnuts]

Hiiiiiiii! If you’re still open for requests maybe you might wanna write something where the reader casually mentioned that they/she had a partner on earth before they died and Alastor takes it a bit too drastically and has just been very salty and asking too many questions 😭 if you like that

Please & thanks ❤️

Hey guys I've returned! Sorry for taking a little while, I was busy with finals/I wanted to relax on my spring break so I didn't have a lot of time. I lowkey kind of cooked with this one too so enjoy :3

Also, I sorta made the reader be from around the same time period as Alastor (sorta late 1910s early 1930s) for extra spice

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had become a daily routine for you and Alastor to have afternoon tea together in cannibal town. Always, between the hours and four and six o’ clock after Alastor had finished his broadcast and you, your hotel duties, the both of you would walk down to Rosie’s Emporium to nibble on finger sandwiches, candied eyeballs, and other treats. 

The sun was still high in the sky, sending fingers of light through the windows of the cafe; the building was alive with the chatter of demons and hell-born alike. You and Alastor had just sat down, a short cannibal girl with a heart-shaped face and glowing brown ringlets placing your usuals on the table. Oh how beautiful they were! Too pretty to eat, garnished with tiny sprigs of mint (or, at least, it may have been mint) and resting on plates of delicate porcelain. With polished silver beside them, and matching teacups and saucers too, it all looked like a party for a girl’s favorite doll.

That is, if it weren’t human meat. 

Looking up from your plate, you saw Alastor turn his head to follow the cannibal girl making you frown. His gaze returned to you before he caught you staring, a chipper grin on his face as always.

“She could be a dead ringer for Mary Pickford, don’t you think?”

Your eyebrows perked. You hadn’t looked long at the girl admittedly, though you stared long enough to know that she was no Pickford. You pursed your lips,

“I don’t see it, Lillian Gish maybe.”

He looked at you like a mad-woman, “You don’t!?”

“No! Her eyes are much too large!”

Alastor chuffed, proceeding to rest his chin on his dark hand, “In the eye of the beholder I suppose.” 

You rolled your eyes, “You only say that because of her curls,” you stated while picking up the teapot and pouring yourself and Alastor your cups, “Now, drink before it gets cold.”

For much of your lunch neither of you spoke, merely enjoying each other’s presence while pecking on some food here and there. Throughout the meal the waitress brought more plates, pancreas tarts, minced tongues coated with cinnamon sugar, and sweet pies filled with rotted venison and cooked kidneys, all Rosie’s treat. Alastor had been taken by the small pies in their mulled deliciousness, the meat so tender you saw his eyes water. He pleaded you to try one, though you couldn’t, your stomach filled to the brim from the other treats and delicacies. 

Alastor picked up the small pair of silver tongs from beside him and placed two sugar cubes in his tea, “I do say, it’s nice to have a meal companion again.” He took a sip from his teacup and grinned. 

You nodded in agreement, lifting the milk jug from the table and pouring a generous amount into your cup. “Likewise. Good dinner conversation is a horrid thing to lose.”

“Truly.” He took another drink. “Before you, I hadn’t had a proper luncheon since my mother.”

“From what you tell she sounded like a fine woman.” His grin lost its eeriness, becoming fond instead. 

“She truly was, and such a fine cook too.” Alastor gazed at the fine pattern painted on the rim of his saucer, “her jambalaya was the best, our side of the Mississippi” he chuckled. He began to remember then, “And her gumbo and her crawfish etouffee and her pecan pralines”

It was odd to hear his voice so full of affection, but nice too. So strange, to think a man who broadcasted his murders of other overlords and feasted on their flesh was once a little boy who clung to his mothers skirt and happily ate her cooking. 

“Maybe one day you’ll cook for me then?” you teased

“Oh why wouldn’t I for my favoritest of sinners?” He took your hand.

You leaned in towards him, a silent flirtation. “Or perhaps I could prepare something for you?”

He looked at you from his dark, hooded eyes, a certain intrigue radiating from them. “Would you now?” he said, leaning in closer. 

“Oh I would, anything you’d like.” the tip of your oxford lingering at his ankle. “My food was good enough for my darling back on earth, why would an overlord of hell have any complaints? Other than not enough seasoning I suppose.” 

That was when the laughter in his eyes died. Alastor bit the inside of his cheek before finding the words to speak, “Your darling?”

 “Pardon?”

“You had someone,” He straightened up, pulling himself away from you, “back on earth?”

“I hardly see how it matters now.” 

Alastor’s tone grew curt, had such a simple word bruised his ego? 

He crossed his arms, “What were they like?” each word as sharp as his teeth.

You pulled your hands close to you, confused at his curtness, “They were….they were nice. Cordial, spirited, vivacious, however you would put it. If you’re-” Alastor cut you off. 

“How did you meet them?”

“On the trolley.” That only served to make him scoff.

“Tch, how common. The trolley.”

You chewed your bottom lip, trying to deny the anger towards him that began to knot in your belly. “It was a different lifetime.” You asserted, a hard finality to it. Pushing yourself from the small table you smoothed your skirt and adjusted the ribbon that was tied so nicely in your hair. 

Without looking at him you said, “Tell Rosie I’m grateful for her hospitality and I will try to find a way to repay her. Also that I’m sorry that I had to retire without saying hello but I feel rather…faint.” Before leaving completely you said, “See you back at the hotel.”

The rest of the day you hid in your room, sulking and pacing. Charlie had tried to coax you out, seeing how angry you’d been when you came back, but you denied every effort she had. 

“It’s not good to stay cooped up in there,” the Princess pleaded.

“I like my alone time.”

 “But- but I had games planned! Husk was going to show us how to play Blackjack and Dominoes!”

“I prefer bridge, and he’ll just cheat us anyways.”

She gave a disappointed sigh, and outside the door you could hear Vaggie talking to her, telling Charlie to give you your space. 

For three nights straight you avoided Alastor, finishing up your hotel duties quickly before hiding in your room. You grew bored after the first day admittedly, a person could only sleep and bathe and read so much. The fourth night is when he knocked on your door while you lied draped on your couch, your nose in a book you’d already finished before. Thinking it was Charlie, you ignored it, sure she’d get the message. It insisted however, rapping harder the second time. You sighed, annoyed. “Who is it?”

“Alastor, may I come in?”

A sour taste came in your mouth, “No.”

“You cannot lock yourself away from me forever.” 

You lifted yourself off the couch, full of bitterness, “I can and I will!”

An electric hum filled your ears, the sound of Alastor weighing his words, “Could you at least entertain my attempt?”

Walking to the door and opening it slightly you saw his face, those deep, hooded eyes dark as blood, cracked lips, and hollow cheekbones. All of those beautiful, haunting features draped in remorse. You sighed, cursing the affection you had for him. 

“Fine, but I’m still cross with you.” That made him smile, if only a tad. 

Opening the door fully, you saw he’d brought one of the dining carts from the unused kitchen clad in a clean white sheet. Alastor pushed it to the center of the room before spiritedly ripping the cover from the cart, presenting polished silver dishes of raw meat and organs. From the bottom shelf of it, he had pulled a fine bottle of wine and two shining glasses.

“I helped myself to a bottle of Husk’s finest, the patrons here don’t have as refined tastes as you and I.” He gave a small grin. So this is what he brought with him, a peace offering. Your stomach was empty from only eating a small meal earlier in the day, so perhaps it was not in vain, though you weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive him. 

“I’ll help you set the table,” you offered, feeling guilty he put so much effort into pleasing you. 

Alastor held his hands up, “No need darling.” He put his hand on his throat, “What I said the other day was very…” he coughed into his hand, “ungentlemanly of me, and I wanted to make it up to you.” 

You folded your hands and held them to your chest, looking at the embarrassment he tried to hide. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, and raised your gaze to his. “Thank you, Alastor.” His grin widened as he sat down beside you. 

He uncorked the bottle of wine, beginning to pour it into the glasses, “Of course.” He handed you the glass which you took gladly. The vintage was so dark it looked black, reflecting the lights that glowed from the ceiling. Swishing it, you could see the hidden shades of red that the wine hid.

“Demon’s blood, Husk calls it.” Alastor told you before he took a long sip. 

“Fitting. Do you know how long he’s aged it?” Alastor shrugged, taking another swallow. 

“I didn’t care to ask, but it tastes so good going down. Come, drink, I didn’t bring this up so I could get drunk by myself.” That made you giggle, how much he valued the both of you eating and drinking together. 

Taking his lead, you titled your head back, savoring the warm burn of the wine going down. Its hot fingers lingered in your chest before fading, like drinking cold medicine. In three large gulps you finished your glass, noticing the way Alastor’s eyes watched your throat as you drank. After finishing your second glass you began to dig into the food he’d brought, pancreas tarts, cooked kidneys and…oh good god! On the largest plate was a raw heart, fresh and bloody. 

“Where did you get this? You shouldn’t have!” Your eyes went wide and your mouth began to salivate. A raw heart! Oh and it was human too! Such a fine delicacy must have taken so much begging from Alastor!

“Rosie owed me a favor. And I owe it to you, for making such a jackass of myself.” 

You took another sip of your wine, feeling your face begin to flush. You helped yourself to a tart while Alastor poured himself another glass. As you ate you felt his eyes on you again, focusing on the way your teeth bit into the pastry, your swan’s neck showing your swallow, and how your tongue dragged across your lips. Feeling bold, you placed your feet in his lap and wiped the corner of your mouth with your finger, licking the tip of it with your tongue. He swallowed, hard, his eyes growing wide. 

“Are you looking at something?” Your voice a heavy seduction.

“Possibly.” He drank again. Leaning back on the arm of the couch, he placed his glass on the floor. The tips of his fingers grazed your legs, “Though I do have another question for you, if I may.”

A sultry smirk grew on your face, “That depends on what it is, Al.” God, you could see the glint in his eyes then.

Alastor looked up at you from his hooded eyes, “I’ve been wondering…about your “darling.” You arched an eyebrow; your interest piqued. “Did they ever have…you?” His breath shuddered. 

“Have me, how?” You teased.

“Oh humor me my dear,” He purred

You smirked and shifted your legs in his lap. “Hmm, maybe once or twice…” You sit up from your recline and crawl onto his lap.

“What sorts of things did they do to you?” 

Running your fingers down his chest you savored the way he squirmed and shifted, “All sorts of unholy things” 

Alastor choked on his breath, his eyes transfixed on your face. Slowly, he caught it, regaining a certain boldness afterwards. His hand found the top of your stocking, fingering the nylon taut to your thighs. “Getting rather comfortable aren’t we my dear?”

The smirk you had deepened and you pulled in closer, feeling the heat of his breath tickle your cheeks. You looked into his eyes, “I could get much more comfortable if you like, Al.” For what seemed like ages you lingered, until you felt you had tortured the man enough. Slowly, you leaned in, seemingly ready to kiss his shiny red lips. Grinning, you pulled a piece of dry skin from his bottom lip between your teeth, peeling it to show the bleeding flesh beneath. 

You sat back on his lap and spat out the skin. Looking at him, you saw that hunger in his eyes again. That fine line of decorum the two of you had with one another, ignoring the lingering gazes and longing touches, all thrown away with one bite. Underneath, you could feel his arousal beginning to grow hard. You rolled your hips slightly into him, earning a throaty groan from Alastor. From the silver dining cart you pulled the piece de resistance, that raw bleeding heart, and sunk your teeth into it, tasting the sweet flavor of iron. Trails of blood dripped from your mouth onto your decolletage, slowly turning brown and flaky.

Alastor’s breath heaved, growing even harder from that sultry cannibalistic display. He pulled you towards him and pressed your mouth to his, saccharine saliva mixing with sanguine. His tongue slid and twisted about yours, savoring every inch of its taste. You pulled away from him to catch your breath, making him whine. Leaning in again, he dragged his tongue along your neck, cleaning up the drying strings of blood. 

Both of you straightened up then, him holding you proper now. One hand ran its fingers through his shiny red hair and the other cupped his aching sex, so taut against his trousers. 

“Is that what you were so upset about Al? If they fucked me or not?” You purred into his ear.

The tips of your fingers fluttered over his hip, tracing its edge before returning to his cock. “I bet you wondered if I did this to them, didn’t you?” A small nip was placed on his neck, leaving a red half-moon. Your breath grew hot against his cheek as you whispered into his ear again, 

“Maybe I did, and maybe I did so many more dirty things to them.” 

Alastor enraptured your mouth in another needy kiss. His words heavy with radio static, “What sort of things my dear? Or are you all talk?” Your grin widened seeing the shock in his eyes when you began to unbutton his overcoat.

“Let me show you.”

Four little words was all it took to send him over the edge. Picking you up, his hands traced over all the parts of your succulent body. When he flopped you on the bed, hair as tousled as a pin-up, you reached out a stockinged leg to him, that devious look on your face growing. Oh how badly he wanted to have you, hastily unzipping your dress as you stripped him down to his undershirt and trousers. Deft fingers hooked around the tops of your stockings, pulling them down as fast as they could. You dropped his trousers and took off his shirt, admiring all of that soft, gray skin.

You pressed your mouth to the flesh of his stomach, blessing it with small love-bites that made him shudder. All along his torso you left red patches and traced your cool fingertips along the hard edges where his ribs poked out. You tilted your head up and moved his hands to the straps of your brasserie, exposing all of your hot, yearning flesh. He cupped a breast and lied on top of you. Grinding his sex to yours he moaned into your mouth. It had been so…so long since you’d been wanted, since someone pressed their body to yours and you felt all of their heat as they slid into you, over and over again. 

“Al,” You breathed

“What is it?”

“Get on your back.” 

And so he did. 

Alastor’s back against the mattress and your palms against his chest, you let him enter you. He let out a string of curses when you did, and even more when you started moving in those easy rolling motions. Those large hands of his held the curve of your waist as you rode him, his eyes half-lidded as he watched your breasts bounce. 

“The first time I saw you…” You began, going a little faster, “I wanted you,” You heard a small thud as he dropped his head against the pillows.

“I thought about you kissing me and touching me all over” That’s when the pulses of pleasure started to build up, prickling you in sweet needles that went all the way up your spine.

“And about you sticking your fingers in me and..and your tongue too” You felt your face heat up and your sex grow slicker, admitting those indecent thoughts you only entertained during late nights when your fingers wandered. Alastor gripped your waist tighter, making your rhythm harsher. You looked down on him, his eyes glazed over with euphoria, and felt your mouth pool with saliva.

Digging your nails into the skin of his chest you kept on. “For a whole week I couldn’t keep from slipping my hands between my legs.” Your voice, thick and hoarse. “I wanted to know what you tasted like, if-if your mouth tasted like blood,” that was when he quickened the pace even more. Your sex was so hot and wet, all the way at the base of your spine you could feel your orgasm coming to you, a full-body shiver that made your eyes well with tears. 

The last part was what sent him over the edge though. 

“Sometimes, I’d bite myself so I could taste the blood when I’d touch-” was all it took to make him come. 

Fuck it felt good too. A weak falsetto escaped your mouth when he released, so warm and filling. That’s what made you reach your end too. You clawed your nails in his skin so deep there were two broken half-moons on his chest. Your thighs clenched against his torso, quivering, as you could feel your body become as light and floaty as chiffon. 

Alastor let the both of you ride it out, that sweet joyous bliss. When your mind returned from the heaven it was sent to, you leaned over, resting on top of him. He moved you gently, pressing you closely to his chest. For a while, neither of you spoke, the air lingering with the smell of sweat and blood and sex. You ran your fingers through his hair again; He kissed the back of your hand before speaking. 

“If I’d known all that would come out of making you angry at me, I would’ve earned your ire a long while ago.” You rolled your eyes, flicking his chest playfully. 

“Perhaps we could do this again, without the arguing?” You propose, “You’re quite good at it.” 

A smile stretched across his face as he played with a lock of hair that rested near your face, “Expect nothing less from an overlord of hell cher.” One of his hands slid to your lower back, tracing small circles on that creamy flesh. 

“How about we try one more time without the arguing, for good measure?”

You smirked and kissed him again. All for good measure.

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #fanfic request

[sixosix]

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO | LYNEY

notes wc 3.9k lyney pov back again babyyy (and he’s acting a little crazy) 🫶 enjoy the chapter!

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Lyney hasn't uttered a single word on the way back to their house. Not a single word, but he doesn’t need to. It shows, anyway—the skip on his steps, the ever-present smile seemingly stuck on his face, and a glow in his eyes that no one has seen before.

Lynette must have caught it, too. She keeps glancing at him, suspicious.

Damage control wasn’t all that difficult when you’re well-loved by the people of Fontaine. They were out searching for Lyney, demanding refunds if they were going to discontinue, but they were appeased eventually. Lyney and Lynette resumed the show, apologized for the emergency, and the audience was won back by their enthusiasm and charm (and lies).

Still, Lynette pushes on with her stern words.

“That was careless, Lyney.” She locks the door. “Everyone was watching.”

Lyney prepares two cups of tea, dancing around the kitchen to boil water. “You know exactly why I did it.”

Lynette sits on a chair and watches him. Her gaze expresses more than her face sometimes. “I know. But I won’t let you escape from dealing with the backlash.”

Lyney smiles. “If anything, I should be saying that to you.”

His dear sister huffs, turning away. “So it was them I saw by the alley… I recognized the Traveler right away, but I found it strange that there was a familiar figure pressed up close against him.”

Lyney makes a face. He doesn’t want to imagine that—he might break something, and Freminet is an expert, but not when it comes to teacups.

Lyney breathed in deeply, letting the muffled cheers from the other side of the curtain fill his ears. His sister settled beside him, her expression troubled.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Do you not feel like performing today?”

“No,” Lynette said. “I thought I saw something strange on the way here.”

That was alright. That meant Lynette wasn’t too nervous if she was letting her mind wander.

“Oh?” he said. Lyney looked for his hat, finding it underneath the stool he was on. Ah, Rosseland must have crawled in and put it there.

“I thought I saw the Traveler,” Lynette said, “in an alley doing something…” 

Oh my, Lyney mused in his head.

“With Y/N,” Lynette continued.

All at once, the noise became like streaming water. He didn’t hear Lynette calling for him. He didn’t hear her say she was most likely mistaken. His mind was blank the moment he heard your name.

It was a touchy subject.

She tapped his shoulder. “Lyney.”

“Haha,” Lyney said, choking on his own lies. “Have your eyes finally deceived you, dear sister?”

Lynette looked at him worriedly.

“And with the Traveler, really?” Lyney scoffed, moving his hat to his head. “I’m afraid it might’ve just been lookalikes getting handsy and couldn’t wait to get home.”

But the thought of it… Lyney scowled and looked at himself in the mirror, finding his own expression terrifying. He really needed to work on that.

Lynette has a ghost of a smile on her lips as Lyney spaced out, the devil.

“Y/N told us not to tell ‘Father’,” she recalls, casually, as if that isn’t the biggest source of Lyney’s headache at the moment. “What will you do?”

Lyney pauses, his hands hovering over a jar of sugar cubes, his back turned to his sister. “We’ve yet to hear news from ‘Father’, right?”

Lynette won’t be able to tell the expression he’s making, but she knows him well enough to figure out what he’s thinking. “Yes.”

Lyney hums, grinning. “I’ll be taking this opportunity.”

His sister has that same look backstage. Her eyes flicker to him, then return back to the table as if unsure of voicing her thoughts. Instead, she says, “What if Y/N doesn’t want to stay?”

“I’ll just clear up misunderstandings, at least! Maybe then, she’ll want to stay.” Lyney presses his palms against the table, looking at Lynette with a gleam in his eye. “I’ll tell her that I never wanted to be the next king. I’ll tell her the truth.”

Lynette’s brows furrow. “It wouldn’t be that simple.”

The water simmers. Lyney’s face is terrifyingly blank, not like the spitfire of his words as he says, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Lynette leans back, still frowning. She looks mildly startled. Lyney must have been making a scary face again. He clears his expression and forces a smile.

A tuneful beat on the door cuts through the tension rising in the room. It swings open and reveals a frazzled blond.

“Freminet!” Lyney greets, his shoulders loosening. “Let me also prepare tea for you.”

“How was it?” Lynette asks as their brother nearly sinks to the seat as if prepared to melt against it.

Freminet sighs heavily, world-weary. “I didn’t really hear anyone talking about anything else about your show. They were all chattering about your last trick. The one outside the Epiclese—with the fireworks?”

“Good,” Lyney resists the urge to pat himself on the back. “It seems the diversion has worked. Though, we still have to be perfectly sure.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Lynette mutters.

“Why the sudden notice, anyway?” Freminet mumbles, pressing his face against the glass table. “Did something happen?”

“Y/N was at the show.”

The only sound that fills the room is the whistling kettle. Lyney wordlessly pours it into the three cups and hands them to his siblings, one already preparing her tea and the other looking like he hasn’t quite taken in what Lyney said. 

“What!” Freminet stands up from his chair, utterly gobsmacked. “Where? I thought—”

Lyney stares at the cup of boiling water that nearly spilled over from Freminet’s outburst. “Careful, now. That will burn you,” he chides, yet his expression is serene.

Lyney doesn’t even need tea. It looks like the tea would do nothing when he’s already acting like the Sevens have blessed him personally.

Lynette prepares Freminet’s tea for him as Freminet continues, “At—at the show? Is that why you were asking if anyone was talking about it?”

Lynette slides Freminet’s tea over to him. “Mhm. We were making sure no one would harm Y/N while she was in Fontaine. Lyney already made up an excuse, but some people might not believe it.”

“While in Fontaine?” Freminet falters, sipping on his tea. “Y/N’s not staying?”

“Afraid not,” Lyney says bitterly. “She’s working under Master Childe now, and he never stays in one place too long. It’s a miracle he took a pit stop here.”

“It’s strange,” Lynette wonders thoughtfully. “I thought I heard Master Childe is here for something personal.”

“Maybe Y/N became Master Childe’s personal recruit,” Freminet supplies. “Y/N’s really strong.”

Lyney’s face scrunches up. He changes the subject swiftly. “Freminet, do you want to meet up with Y/N? You were her first friend, right?”

“With whom?” Freminet asks suspiciously.

“With me!” Lyney beams, a flourish with his gesture. “I invited Y/N over to spar with me outside the city. Just like old times, no?”

“No thanks.” Freminet’s expression turns haunted. “I don’t want to be alone with you and Y/N. I always feel like I’m intruding.”

“He just gets too handsy and can’t wait to get home, doesn’t he?” Lynette chimes in. “That's why I don't watch, either.”

Freminet doesn’t understand it, but Lyney’s face explodes in a blush.

“Hey!” Lyney huffs. “Suit yourself. I’ll tell Y/N you skipped out on a reunion.”

Freminet smiles. “Tell Y/N I missed her a lot, and she should come visit us.”

Lyney sighs, because he can never even pretend to be furious when Freminet is simply too sweet. He ruffles Freminet’s hair, toppling over his beret. “Alright,” he says fondly, “I’ll pass the message.”

Lynette waves. “Don’t have too much fun, now.”

THEN

Things became a lot more tense when you left.

Freminet and Lynette were devastated when Lyney told them that you stormed off. His arm felt as numb as what he was feeling at the time, and to think that it was all you left for him. He didn’t tell anyone else anything, but the rest of them got the gist of it when you didn’t appear the next day or the day after that.

Most of the orphans didn’t care; in fact, some had the gall to look relieved when rumors of your transfer began floating around. When Lyney heard one about how you must’ve died sneaking off to another mission, he snapped. He yelled and told them that they didn’t know anything—they never bothered to know who you were. They didn’t have the right to talk if they were only there to stain your name.

Lyney bore the brunt of it. Anyone could tell he was hurt by it the most.

Once, after Lyney was told off for mouthing off, Lynette found him in the far corner of the training room, his knees tucked to his chest and his eyes stormy.

Lynette sat down beside him and stared ahead. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Don’t be too harsh on yourself, Lyney.”

Lyney glared at the floor. “I’m not mad at myself. I’m not the one who left.”

Lynette turned to him, surprised. “You’re mad at Y/N?”

He sat up straight and exhaled sharply. “She got a Vision. That’s what she always wanted, to become ‘Father’s successor. Now that she can have it, she runs.”

“Maybe that's not what she really wanted.”

“That's what she hated me for,” Lyney clarified.

“You don’t really hate her, do you? Did you think it was only right for you to hate her because she did to you? I can tell when you’re lying straight through your teeth, Lyney.”

Lyney didn’t say anything in reply because he knew everything that would come out would just be a lie. But when it came to Lynette, his silence was louder than words.

“Y/N will be back. This is her home, too.” Lynette said softly. “Come on, wipe that look off your face.”

Lyney blinked, desperately wiping away whatever expression he didn’t even know he was making.

“I didn’t think it was true,” Lynette said offhandedly. What a turn of events, to have Lynette talk more than Lyney. At his impatient frown, she clarified, “I noticed that you can never control your expressions well when it comes to Y/N.”

Lyney wasn’t sure if Lynette pointed it out to rub on Lyney’s face that what he felt was real, or to remind him that fragile things like emotions in their line of work are a weakness. Maybe it was both. It was his first mistake to be curious and end up falling face-forward for you—and now he ended up like this, furious for reasons he couldn’t understand.

It didn’t take long before ‘Father’ stopped mentioning you, before the orphans acted like you never existed, and before your existence felt like just a secret shared between the three.

It took a year for them to realize that this was no longer your home. You never returned.

Lyney speeds past fields of grass. He had taken the long route, circling around; he didn’t want to deal with anyone recognizing him—he was already running a little late. When he sees your figure, standing still underneath the bridge for Aquabuses overhead, he feels his chest glow.

You’ve shed off the large skirt and now wore a simple dress, smeared with dirt on the edges. Lyney wants to reach out and dust it off, to fix it for you. But Lyney is also getting a feeling that he shouldn’t ruin the picture you’ve made for yourself.

“Hey,” Lyney says, and he was fully expecting it when your arm lashed out and aimed right at his face. He grins at your stunned expression. “I still just want to talk first.”

“Sorry,” you say, flinching away. “I was in deep thought.”

Lyney settles beside you, hoping to ease you into his presence. There is nothing special about the view. It was just water for miles, architecture that stretched over to the next island, and the sunset. He much prefers it when he looks at you.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Lyney, listen.” You fidget nervously. “About Lord Tartaglia… I didn’t actually know where he was. I was just—I didn’t—”

“That makes sense.” Lyney nods thoughtfully. He thinks back to all the rumors he’s heard before about the man. “I've heard that Master Childe likes doing things on his own. And I'm glad you were just taken to another faction.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Yeah, right.”

“Wait, don’t tell me,” Lyney gasps. Your shoulders stiffen, and Lyney just knew he hit the jackpot. “Master Childe doesn’t even know you’re following him! Why are you following him?”

Were you actually his personal subordinate? Was Freminet right?

“Why am I—” Your jaw goes slack, perhaps in awe of his deduction skills. “You know what, never mind. Let’s stop talking about Lord Tartaglia.” And that title, too. Did Master Childe make his subordinates call his Lordship that? “What did you call me here for, Lyney?”

“I just wanted to catch up, like what we’re doing now.”

“Great.” You clap your hands. “We’ve caught up. I’ve got other things to do, you know.”

Lyney smiles instead. “Would you like to spar?”

Your gaze is intense, yet far away. “If you want,” you cede, which isn’t a blatant yes, but Lyney knows it’s one.

“It is an honor,” he says.

You frown. “Are you trying to do something?”

“Can’t the reason just be that I missed this? That I missed doing this with you?”

“...Fine.”

Your gaze sharpens, and you charge straightaway. Lyney moves his arm just in time; it still stings, just as he remembers. but it doesn’t hurt as bad now. In the same breath, you swipe again, your polearm spinning in that same hypnotizing circle as you strike at him. Lyney swerves aside or blocks it off each time, unaware of the crazed grin on his face.

He shoots off three different arrows, waiting for the perfect moment while you’re deflecting them. As always, you move with ease, flowing through your movements like Lyney would be wrong to disrupt it.

As a kid, he could watch in awe as you get to do cool moves, but now, Lyney just appreciates the way your piercing gaze cuts through him and how you nearly beckon him with your body. Try, if you dare.

Lyney doesn’t want to show off; he wants to catch you off guard. He performs the same trick as last time—he disappears and materializes from thin air to your back. It doesn’t work, as he expected, but you’re now wary of his weapon.

Lyney blows a little air to your ear; you yelp and flutter away from him. Lyney uses this opportunity to hold your polearm down with his free arm. He flicks his hand and traps your back onto his chest with an arrow to your neck.

“What the hell?” You breathe sharply, your throat brushing against the shaft of his arrow, “I don’t think this is how you use an arrow.”

“How am I supposed to win without a little bend to the rules?”

You frown at him, your face upside down in his view. “That was unfair.”

“I have to be if I want to beat you.”

You laugh. Lyney feels the shake of your body pressed against him, and he’s entranced. He wants this, over and over again—you could numb him until he can’t breathe, and still, he wouldn’t let this go.

You’re glowing. This is exactly what Lyney wanted to see. If you were still keeping a wall up, then he would have to keep talking your language.

You tap his arm twice. Lyney loosens his grip and tries to calm himself. If you turn to look at him, you’d laugh for an entirely different reason—his face is too red. He decides to pick your weapon up instead but pauses at the sight of it. It looks old. It’s to the point where it shouldn’t even be used.

Lyney realizes it looks strangely familiar. “Is this the same one from the House?”

You stretch your arms. “Oh, that? Yeah, I still use it.”

“That’s dangerous.” Lyney grabs your hand and studies the red scratches on your palm. It’s littered with scars.

You tug your hand away. “That’s just because I was handling flowers—some of them have nasty thorns, you know.“

Lyney lifts an eyebrow. “Really, now? I’m getting you a new one.”

“What— It was actually from flowers! And I don’t want to owe you anything.”

“That’s sweet,” Lyney says breezily, mentally filing through connections he might have to gift you the perfect weapon—so perfect that you couldn’t resist. “I’ll get you a new one. Does Master Childe not provide equipment for his recruits?”

“Fine, suit yourself. It’s your money.”

Lyney grins. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“But let me keep it,” you say, reaching for it. “That polearm still means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Lyney smiles and tosses it back to you. “So you work for Master Childe? Is that why you and the Traveler are close?”

Your face scrunches in confusion. “You ask too many questions. Mind your own Harbinger, will you?”

“That was your ‘Father’, too.”

The atmosphere goes a little cold. “Did she send you to this? To talk to me?”

“No, of course not,” Lyney says. “And if ‘Father’ sent me, I wouldn’t have gone. This is all out of my own will.”

It seems you’re strangely keen on avoiding the topic of ‘Father’. And Aether, too, unfortunately. At least Lyney could tell that there was truth to your confession about pride. If he were in your shoes, he would’ve felt the same.

“You know, I never wanted to be her successor,” Lyney says. Your shoulder stiffens. You turn to him, watching his expression closely. Lyney continues, allowing for his expression to be open. “Our fight was just a misunderstanding—I never intended to take anything from you.”

“Right,” you say quietly. You sound wounded.

“I’m sorry,” Lyney says.

“Don’t be sorry. None of it was you,” you sigh. “I told you, didn’t I?” Your eyes then narrow on his lips. “Are you hiding something? I don’t like the look on your face.”

“What?” Lyney chuckles, unsure. “I’m just smiling?”

“Yeah. It looks fake. You look weird smiling like that.”

Lyney feels his heart drop. He feels as if he was charged over by a strike of lightning. And then he laughs, because of course, if he knew you better than anyone, you’d also do to him.

“You make me swoon,” he says dreamily, tugging on your gown as if pawing for it like a cat.

“You haven’t changed much,” you tell him, glancing down at his arms as they curve around you, like before. Like they’ve made a home for themselves there.

“You’ve changed in some ways,” Lyney hums appreciatively, eyeing you.

“Gross!” You slap his arm in hopes of freeing you, but he doesn’t budge. “What are you doing? Let go.”

He grins brightly, and his cheeks ache faintly. He has missed this so, so much. “Still both bark and bite, though.”

“Is this why most of your audience were women? Is this how your shows are always sold out?” you ask, gesturing to how there are no inches between your clothes.

Lyney smiles, less softer, more suggestive. “What? You think I sweet-talk them into buying tickets like this? You think that’d work?”

He curls his arms tighter and draws nearer, your breath on his face. He knows he won when he hears and feels it audibly hitching. Your eyes narrow, hands moving to his arms as if prepared to push him off if he moves any closer.

Lyney bursts out laughing. “Well, I won’t lie and tell you that some of our loyal fans are those who fell for my charm, but, chérie, did you already forget my whole speech about loyalty? I’m hurt.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that,” you huff. Lyney doesn’t mind how he feels it gust against his skin. It makes this all the more real: you, in his arms, living and breathing, and thankfully not pulling away. “You magicians and your fabricated lies.”

“No faith in me whatsoever,” Lyney sighs, but deep down, he’s thoroughly enjoying how you’re acting like his jealous girlfriend. You’re so cute.

“You would know if I was lying to your face, trust me,” he says.

He doesn’t know why, but it took your soft expression, your palms on his chest, your skin brushing against his, to understand that Lynette was right: he could never hate you. He hated how you disappeared without a trace and came back without warning. He hated how you were still as closed off and wary of him as you were on the first day he met you. But this all led you back to him—how could he ever not be grateful for it?

Lyney pulls back, and as much as it pains him to do so, that sad look on your face hurts him even more. He scans his surroundings and brightens.

“Lyney?” you ask, watching as he scrambles over to a bush growing by a pillar.

He plucks a beautiful flower from it and hands them to you. It’s a Marcotte, bright and beautiful. No theatrical tricks. You watched it happen.

“You’re trying too hard to win me back,” you murmur. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Did you have to do anything? I just want to do it,” Lyney says, his voice equally quiet.

It’s just the two of you outside of the city, with the wind whipping through the grass, the world falling hushed enough for Lyney to pick up the faint beat of your heart. You’re silent, thinking deeply, Lyney can tell. He doesn’t want to interrupt, content with figuring out the complicated expressions on your face as you stare at the flower.

“Idiot,” you say, pushing a finger to the space between his brows. “You’re too soft for your line of work. Hey, tell me, what has the House been up to anyway?”

Lyney pauses. “You’re not aware of it already?”

“Well, no, not really,” you say nervously. “I haven’t been paying too close attention. And I haven’t heard anything about the House in years.”

He smiles. “Don’t worry. We’re not up to anything right now.”

It wasn’t a total lie, at least.

By the time Lyney returns home, the lights inside are switched off. The curtains haven’t been drawn, allowing for the moonlight to pour in and illuminate Lynette sitting on the couch, her eyes snapping to him instantly.

“She’s hiding something,” Lyney says, locking the door with a troubled expression. “I just don’t know what. I can’t start looking into it if I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“I suppose there would’ve been something up,” Lynette sighs, crossing her legs. “Have you asked why she’s close with the Traveler?”

“I didn’t get a good answer.” Lyney flings his hat aside. “Have you found anything good?”

“Garrick knew something.” Garrick is one of their magic crew, helping Lyney perform seamlessly. “He told me that he recognized Y/N milling about—but it wasn’t just recently. He told me that he swore he’d seen her before, just in Fontaine City, months before the show.”

“Interesting,” Lyney murmurs, his brows drawn together. He’ll have to think about that later.

Lynette looks at her brother, her eyes carefully blank. “Are you sure doing this won’t drive her away again?”

Behind Lyney, the moonlight scatters all over. It is a little hard to tell what face he’s making. “I’m doing this exactly because I’m trying not to drive her away.”

YAAAAAYYY NEW CHAPTER!!!!!!! more lyney and reader interactions!!!!!!!!!1 more of the siblings ! !! <333 TYSM FOR READING, and, as always, lmk what u think <3

but before you go!! once again we are blessed with fanart but this time with emanami too!

look at her little doodles of this chapter its so CUTE

AND OF COURSE. AKAGI'S LYNEY!!! check this out he looks so fine

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny @motherscrustytoenailclippings @lovelyevil @iawaaaaaaa @rionah @esmetrees @cherryig @kzhwaif @mystiquemare @unknownlololol @sanluvssu @blvdmrcnry @kascar-chronicle @idontevenknow129 @tarathecogsci @lunavixia @beaniedoodz @wendolrea @avalordream @egoistars @rains-mae @magnificentfireball @poemzcheng

#606: THAWED #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

[mournings-stars]

Could I request an Alastor x reader? mostly smut, however i love fluff with aftercare and such

I was thinking the premise being of a reader who was and old friend from cannibal town coming to the hotel maybe? (cis fem reader)

hellohello! i personally don’t write smut for alastor but here’s a little fluff for you/how im comfortable writing for alastor!! its a bit of an ambiguous relationship but i hope thats fine :)

alastor x cannibal town fem reader (i may make this into a multi-part fic)

There was more than one reason Alastor brought Charlie to Cannibal Town — yes, it’s important she met Rosie, but he also had business to attend to while she did. He excused himself, heading down the street, several shops down, and into a narrow alleyway where he opened a hidden door to a small shop.

It was two small rooms and a back kitchenette. The walls of the first room were lined with bookshelves that made a narrow aisle to the back of the store. There, was an open seating area with sofas, armchairs, and a roaring fireplace across from the small register in the corner. It certainly wasn’t supposed to feel like a store where you had to buy something, but one where you could if you really wanted to.

“Welcome in!” A very sweet voice came from the back of the shop, a hint of an old, long-lost accent that made Alastor’s smile widen. “I’ll be right with you!”

“Take your time,” he hummed, and immediately heard shuffling from the other room before you stumbled into the front. “Hello, my dear!”

“Alastor!?” You gasped, lifting the hem of your skirt to rush over to him and hug him. He stiffened, a high pitched radio frequency sounding from his microphone and making you step back. “Sorry—“ You straightened out his suit jacket with a smile tugging at your lips as he watched you. When your fussing became too much, he placed a very calm hand over yours and gave you a gentle smile. You laughed under your breath and stepped back. “Sorry—“

“You said that already, my dear — and there’s no need to!” You nodded as he squeezed your hand before letting it go. “No need at all!”

“Right, right… How are you? Where have you been? I’ve… missed you.” Your excited tone dampened as you finished, clearing your throat and offering a smaller smile when it faltered. “But I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“You were always too kind to me!” He said cheerily, walking to the second room to have a seat on the couch.

“Can I get you anything, Al?”

“Just a bit of precious time,” he said a little too sweetly, waiting for you to sit across from him. But you made yourself busy, pouring hot water over tea and preparing a plate of sweets for the two of you to share. “Tell me how you’ve been!” He said impatiently as he watched you go anywhere but toward him.

“Ah… where to start?” You hummed, leaning against the countertop. “I thought you might’ve…” You waved your hand dismissively, but as he’d gone missing just after an extermination, he understood and hummed along. “And since you never told me anything—“

“It was all so sudden, I would’ve left you a note—“

“A note?” You scoffed, but moved on when he nodded, going to get teacups for the two of you. “Anyway, I met someone.”

“Did you?” He sounded unimpressed, watching you get sugar and spoons; anything to avoid sitting down. “So quickly?”

“It took a few years.” He hummed along. “And it didn’t last—“ He laughed snidely. “—It felt very… wrong—”

“I'm sure,” he was almost too quick to say.

“And… They were exterminated, anyway.”

He looked very happy to hear that fact, but said nothing until he got his expression under control. “Shame,” he said, tone crass. “I would have loved to have met them.”

“I’m sure,” you repeated, throwing him a pointed look that he beamed at. “The years have become a bit blurry,” you continued.

“Have they?”

“I spend most of my time here, talking with Rosie. Missing you.“

“Ah, yes… You said that.” His smile dampened. “Surely you moved on?” But he was hopeful you didn’t, and he knew his hopes were answered when you stayed quiet and poured your tea. You remembered how much sugar he liked, and how much cream, not even bothering to ask before you put the cups on the plate and walked to the couches. “I always thought of you,” he admitted, taking the cup you offered, “but I could never go to you… I watched from afar.” He cleared his throat, sipping his tea and forcing his smile to stay put. “And I felt…” His eyes drifted to nothing as he thought back on those seven years. “Excruciatingly bored.”

You laughed. “Does that mean you missed me too?”

He narrowed his eyes, taking the plate from you before you could get anything else. “Why don’t you have a seat next to me?” He set the plate on the end table. “I didn’t come here to be served; I came to, finally, get the chance to see you again.” And then he offered his hand, and the small gesture of vulnerability made you understand that yes;

He missed you very much.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin charlie #hazbin rosie #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor #charlie hazbin hotel #anon #hazbin blurb #hazbin drabble #hazbin hotel blurb #hazbin hotel drabble #alastor blurb #alastor drabble #blurb #drabble

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sandor Clegane x reader

Chapter 4

1 - 2 -3 -4

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter, cussing, 18+ language and themes, insults, fighting, gossiping, alcohol consumption.

Standing next to the hound you watch as Marcella cries as she's rowed out to seat the larger journey ship. Tommen cries as his sister leaves his sight past the rocks. Joffrey rolls his eyes at all the attention she's getting.

Your ladies stand a distance away from the hound and yourself not wanting to be near him. He looks down to you briefly before Joffrey gets bored and walks up the stairs calling him along with him. 

“Come, dog!” he spits out hound follows him with an eye roll. 

“My lady you've been invited to a tea party in the garden with a few of the fellow court ladies' ' your lady in waiting says about to lead you out. 

“Can it wait.” you ask, looking at a cersi whose tears fall silently. She doesn't answer when she sees Sansa follow after her ladies. Your eyes avert to the water again, the light splashes of the water against the rocks before you watch cersei exit the ceremony following shortly after her. 

—-----

Your ladies continue to follow you as you walk through the garden. You huff and stop turning around to them. 

“Will you please possibly go do something else besides follow me like abandoned dogs on the street! I don't need to be followed everywhere I go” you snap at them. They curtsy and scurry off. You sigh, shaking your head. You turn back again seeing the other ladies and Sansa sitting under the gazebo giggling and drinking tea. 

“y/n how lovely for you to join us. We've saved you a seat as well as a cross stitch fold.” lady tyrell says as a guard pulls out the spare chair for you and you take a seat in between lady nighall, and lady cricket. You nod at her smile and a servant pours a cup of tea for you. You take the cross stitch in hand and work on it to occupy the time before the ladies barrel you with questions.

“You wed the hound, sandor clegane yesterday, how exciting.” lady ebsings speak. She's a skinny woman with dark black hair that she keeps in a high ponytail. Her dresses are always too elaborate to function yet she finds a way somehow. She married a man who's rich because he's the top ship seller. 

“Yes I did.” you reply. 

“And what I mean can't be much of a fun experience between a king's guard and a legitimate princess.” lady cricket, a larger woman with brown hair she keeps half up and half down always with a decorative hair pin holding it back. She wears green dresses even though it clashes with her skin tone. 

“It's…new. Being married isn't something I would have thought about for a while but the king thought we’d be a good match so we were wed.” you answer. Lady Tyrell gives you a small smile and nod knowing it was fully forced although liking the way you answered the question. 

“Oh come now spare us the sugar and get to the gritty, the consummation…he’s big?” Lady Nighall retorts, a woman of particular size but on the older side around her mid 40s who doesn't get much action as her husband is flaccid all the time so she indulges herself in self pleasure and pleasure houses as she is the country side's top broker for silver coin. You don't answer her question however. 

“you , did, consummate correct.” She digs for answers.

Once again the uneasy feeling erupts from your stomach as all anyone ever wants to talk about is if you and sandor have bedded. Opening your mouth to tell the truth you're sick of people asking so you lie. 

“Yes…he's very adequate.” you say into your teacup trying to fake a description of the act of sex. You sip on your tea before placing the cup back onto the tray. They all accept Sansa and Lady Tyrell, giggle and quickly speak about their husbands in bed for a short period of time. 

Your eyes attached downwards at the table of various sweets and tea. Lady ebsing speaks once again. 

“A-and how…was he.” she smiles at you. 

“Adequate.” you answer once again. 

“Oh come now you're a deflowered princess with a large husband. I was so sure he might split you in two or least break your neck while holding onto you.” she says as they continue to go back to gossip. 

“The hound is a big ugly brute. I'm surprised. After all, if he were to get married he doesn't deserve a small thing like yourself. No wonder all the maidens fear him. His best quality I guess would be being able to kill a man.” lady nighall says. I look up seeing him standing behind her. 

“Sandor.” you say. 

“I know his name, my dear. I just chose not to use a name. Did you know his mother wouldn't even look at him? Mhm heard that from the grape vein.” she says, sipping her tea. 

“My apologies for disturbing your chatter.” Sandor says through gritted teeth as he had to listen to everything that bitch said about him. His deep gruff voice hitting the ears like a clash of steel. 

“OH!” Lady nighall squeals, dropping her tea cup, spilling the tea on her dress. 

“Damn! Sneaking up on a woman is never a good quality” she exclaims 

“Apologize” he says knowing he's not really sorry. 

“Are you alright sandor?” you ask him. He nods before turning to Sansa who is still scared to look at him. 

“The king requests your presence my lady” he says as she nods and stands. 

“Thank you for having me, it was lovely.” she says and stands before walking off a guard that was standing post walks behind her. 

“Lady nighall maybe instead of indulging yourself in the insulting of other maybe you can focus more on the coin you spend daily to indulge yourself in lord baelish's pleasure house, or more rather hoe he indulges himself in you.'' Sandor retorts. Lady nighalls mouth opens in a gasp. 

“And close that yapper its using up more words than the kingdom” he says which makes her shut her mouth. And the other ladies snorted a giggle at his comment. Nighall looks at you square anger on her face as the hound begins to walk away. 

“I apologize for him.” you say getting up, gathering your skirt and running after your husband.

“Sandor!” You yell gathering your dress chasing after him. 

“Sandor, I'm talking to you!” You yell out to him.

He grumbles, continuing walking away. You stop, stamping your foot against the ground and shout at him.

“SANDOR CLEGANE! YOU STOP THIS INSTANT” You shout. He stops and turns to you before walking back to you. 

“Go back to picking flowers and sewing with the other ladies. I bet there will be more gossip about fox and hound eh!” He barks at you.

“You made me look rude, you should go and apologize to her.” you say 

He scoffs 

“Apologize? APOLOGIZE? My whole damn life I've been apologizing to highborns like yourself not as if any of you are worth it so speaking my mind once in a while..yeah I'll do that especially to over entitled cunts who drown themselves at pleasure houses.” he barks out. 

“Why are you always so hateful!” You snap back at him. 

“You’ll be glad of the hateful things I say someday! When I’m the only thing in your way of a good life and a bad one.” he says.

“I’ve got 3 bad things in my life and if you think you're one of them you’re wrong! I didn’t choose to marry you, but Fuck I’ll make the most of it!” You yell at him. Looking him dead in the eyes. Never in his life has he had someone yell at him and look at him square. His look softens ever so slightly. 

“Go finish your tea party. Eat your cakes and don't spill on your shiny gown and dont fucking call me that.” He spits out before turning away from you walking off. 

“GAH! I hate you!” You huff and turn walking away. Back to the other women. 

You ignore the hound for the rest of the day purposefully feeling your distance when Joffrey and Jaime knight the new king's guard, when you see him following the other guard to look the opposite direction pretending not to notice him. You don't know how much good he will care about it, you're damn sure getting a reaction out of it. 

Night falls and for the second time sandor does not join the room, the mester came to watch the consummation but you had him sent away wanting no one in the room and nothing. Sitting in the bath the water filled in oils and scents making the room smell nice as well. You sigh dipping into the hot water dunking your head under the water. The quiet of nothing for a few seconds before you come back to the surface. 

Moving your wet hair out of your face. You sit to the side and rest your head on your arm and you and your other out of the bathtub letting the water dripping off your finger tips onto the stone flooring. 

The memories of a happier time flood your mouth, your brother and you walking and laughing in the gardens. Him teaching you to ride a horse. Your family in your home's castle. All things you'll never get back. Confined to hatred and stone walls of kings landing. 

—------

The next day you continue to ignore the hound. Although has busy supervising the training of the new guards you pass by the courtyard you can feel his eyes on you. 

“Marriage troubles already?” meryyn says to him as sandor huffs at you. 

“Shut the fuck up trant.” he grumbles. 

“What's wrong clegane aren't performing well.” merryn laughs sandor walks towards merryn and grabs his collar. 

“You dont fucking shut up ill turn your insides to out side do you understand!” he tells me. Before dropping him into the mud. The other men stop to watch merryn trant get told by the larger man. Merryn gets up and draws his sword to sandor. 

“Oh what? You're going to pull out your little sword on me?” Sandor is annoyed with his temper tantrum. 

“Go on then swing it. Show everyone what a big strong man you are!” hound yells at trant. Who then swings his sword missing sandor everyone laughs as merryn only prompting him to swing again missing sandor for a second time.

“Fuck sake.” Sandor rolls his eyes at him, grabbing his sword out of Trant's hands, throwing it to the side and landing a punch on his face. Everyone oohs at the site of merryn getting his ass kicked. He gets up and charges at Sandor with a yell barreling into him pushing him back, tackling him. 

“You fuckign fat ugly cunt!” Sandor yells at him and pushes him over, holding his face into the mud. Jamie walks over with his arms crossed as he chuckles at Merryns struggle. 

“Don't pick a fight you can't win.” Jamie says as Sandor gets up, spitting out the mud that got into his mouth and wiping it off his face. 

“Dumb cunt.” Sandor says before spitting out more mud. 

—-----

You stand in the throne room staring at the iron throne alone, your handmaidens out of your sight finally. Nothing but peace and quiet as you stare at the throne. 

“Beautiful isn't it.” you hear a voice turning to see lord baelish. 

“My lord.” you say nodding your head. 

“Princess.” he answers, taking his place right next to you. 

“It was forged after all the battles against the Targaryens were done. People say that the throne room used to be covered in swords from all the battles, they would melt the swords right down onto the stairs” he says holding his hand out. 

“Where are they now? The other swords?” you ask in wonder.

“Removed when the chair had a new sitter. Children running around. They say servers would trip and impale themselves so often they had to train staff to a speciality. Out of all the brutality the targaryens ensued…they cared for the weary.” he says you continue to look at the throne. 

“You are lady clegane now, yes?” he says

“You were at the wedding banquet, surely you must know.” you say reluctantly. 

“You don't sound pleased.” he says

“I…it's just for the past few days that's all anyone speaks of my being lady clegane the princess away from home…i just…” you trail off. 

“Just what my lady?” he asks. 

You're about to open your mouth to speak again but the door opens and you both turn around seeing sandor half covered in mud. 

“Speak of the demon himself, what brings you? Here to collect for my lady wife?” Baelish says. 

“Fuck off you grey haired squirrel” sandor grunts as he walks twords your way. 

“Why are you muddy? Are you alright?” You ask. 

“Becuase merryn fuckign trant dosnt know when you keep his greasy fucking tits out of the way. Picked a fight while over seeing guarding fucking cock sucker. He says passing you both.

“Don't keep us waiting to tell if you win?” Baelish asks. 

“Fuck…off.” he huffs walking down through the hall to the council room. Also reminding lord baelish why he was walking through the throne room. 

“I beg pardon my lady, I wish you a good night.” he says bowing before following after sandor.

Chapter 5 here

#sandor clegane x you #sandor clegane x reader #Sandorclegane #sandor the hound clegane #got x reader #princess reader

[mayajadewrites]

Sweet Secret (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F! Reader CEO Levi Ackerman coming in hot. I've been wanting to write a CEO Levi/Sugar daddy Levi story for a hot minute. Enjoy! Summary: You needed a job. Ackerman Inc was hiring for an in house assistant for none other than the CEO: Levi Ackerman. He's known to be essentially the worst to work with, you decide to take the job and take on the challenge that is Levi Ackerman. Will your relationship remain professional, or will their be monetary value added to the stakes? Or possibly even... love? ao3 Chapter Ten: Falling

The next morning you and Levi find yourself at the breakfast buffet, the warmth of the sun kissing your tanned skin. You have 3 more days in paradise and you're soaking up all the warmth while you can. 

Since last night, Levi has been a bit softer with you. You woke up wrapped in his arms, feeling his heartbeat against your chest. You almost didn't want to get out of bed because of how peaceful he looked. You studied the dark circles under his eyes, thinking about how he probably doesn't sleep much. If he does, it's short lived.

"What did you want to do today?" Levi took a sip of his tea. You eyes scan down to his upper body - his chest dressed with a linen white shirt with two buttons undone.

"Hm..." You tap your chin with your index finger. "Can we look at the shops? I saw some cute trinkets there that I think my sister would love." 

Levi nods as he dabs his lips with his napkin. "Tell me more about your sister."

"What about her do you want to know?" You tilt your head to the right. Levi has never really shown that much interest in your personal life, besides things that he already knew. 

"Anything."

"Well, she's 18 and very independent." You take a sip of water. "She's always been rambunctious and causing trouble, but I'm always there to pick up the pieces. I've been taking care of her since she was 6."

"6? So that means you were 16?"

"Yeah. I... left my parents and took her with me." 

"That must've been a lot for you." 

"Some days I don't remember how we even survived, if I'm being honest. My only goal was to get Alexis a stable home. I finished high school and took college courses through computers at our library. We stayed at a shelter until I could find us a cheap apartment."

Levi is absorbing all of this information. His eyes never leave yours, making sure you know he's listening. "You're very strong." He paused and looked towards the water, the ocean air invading his nostrils. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"Nothing to be sorry about." You smile at Levi before pressing your lip gloss wand to your lips. Levi watches as you lather the clear, glittery substance on your pouty lips. His eyes wander to your curvy figure - your black sundress caressing every dip and curve on your body. "Did you enjoy breakfast?" You break his stare.

"It was... average. The tea could've been better." 

"Is there a place that always makes your tea right?"

"Yeah. It's in Japan." 

"Of course it is.

_________________________

"Levi, look at this!" You walk into one of the shops in the hotel. This hotel has a fucking mall inside of it, something you never thought you would've ever experienced. "They have vintage teacups!"

Levi put his hands in his pockets as he browsed the teacups, taking in all of the detail. You've never seen him so focused on something, so you're proud of yourself for bringing him in here. You watch him, feeling your heart beat a bit faster. 

None of this is real.

This is a transaction.

Snap out of it.

"Do you see any that you want?" You bring yourself next to Levi. He glances down at you.

"I do. I'm having them sent to the house." Levi handed the cashier his black AMEX card. "I've only seen them in Japan."

"That's amazing." You smile at him. Your gazes catch each other and the both of you can feel your hearts skip a beat.

Levi clears his throat to break the tension that you're both feeling.

"Where to next?" 

"I saw some cute bags over there." You point at a store across the way. You know Levi enjoys the luxuries of life, so why not indulge a little?

As you walk in the shop, Levi's large hand presses to the small of your break. 

No affection outside of the bedroom, You remember him saying. You decide to test the limits- wrapping your arm around his bicep. His arms are a weakness of yours - the muscles look like they were carved by Greek Gods. Levi didn't move you, nor say anything. 

"Aren't you two a beautiful couple?" The saleswoman said. "Are you looking for anything specific?" 

"I like that bag." You point to a small, soft green structured bag thats in a display case. It was gold hardware, simple but so elegant. Levi nods in approval.

"We'll like that." 

"We do free monogramming/engraving, did you want to do that?"

"Yes." Levi answered for you.

You raise your eyebrows as Levi walked toward the register. "You stay here." 

As you wait, you watch Levi again. You feel your heartbeat quickening as his mouth moves when he speaks. You don't hear any words but you're engulfed in... him.

The slight tan in his skin, the way his shirt bellows over his muscles, the way his eyes are drawn to yours every other minute.

Is this what falling in love feels like?

Levi brings the bag over to you, smiling to himself.

"Why are you smiling?! What did you do!" You peek into the bag.

"Open it and see for yourself." Levi shoves his hands in his pockets.

You gently take the bag out of the bag, looking at the engraving that was done on the bag. 

You see a simple L in the center below the straps. "L for Levi?" You smile at him.

"Do you like it?" 

"I love it." You press the bag to your chest, unsure if this a moment where you should hug him.

"I'm glad." He nods. You put the bag back in it's bag, gazing into his eyes. You're both almost hypnotized by each other as your bodies get closer.

"Levi," You breath, almost feeling his nose on yours.

"Mm?" He whispers as he presses his hand to your hip.

"I thought you said no affection outside of the bedroom." Your big, doe eyes land on his.

"Today we can ignore that rule." He gently takes the bag from you as he pulls your body into his. His hand trails to your ass, giving it a squeeze as his face leans into yours.

Your lips touch and it feels like a fire has been lit inside of you. This isn't a frenzied kiss, nor is it a peck. Levi moves his lips with purpose, taking care of every inch of your mouth. He squeezes your ass again, massaging it gently after. You wrap your arms around his neck, fully letting yourself fall into him. He pulls away gently, kissing your lips, nose, cheek, and forehead before turning to be on your side. 

You still feel the ghost of his kiss on your lips and you know you want, no need to feel that sensation again. Your core is already feeling needy as he takes your hand and laces his fingers with yours. 

Levi leans down to your ear, pressing his lips against the shell of your ear. "You knew what you were doing with that sundress, hm?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." You giggle, pressing your hand to his forearm.

"If we weren't in public I would be-"

"Would be what?" You turn to him, pulling a hair behind your other ear. "Tell me what you want to do to me." You whisper, letting your lips hover against his as you turn to him.

"New rule." Levi pulled your hand as he started walking. "No dirty talk in public." He cleared his throat. 

"Why?" You pick up your face as you look down and see exactly why that new rule has been enacted.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman smut #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #ceo levi ackerman

[wing-ed-thing]

The Tea Party (Levi x Reader)

Synopsis: After exhausting days, you and Levi lock yourselves in your office for tea to wind down. But after Erwin's new beast of an assignment, people are starting to encroach on your exclusive club.

Word Count: 5k

Tags/Warnings: Alcohol, No Reader Pronouns, Section Commander Reader, Non-Binary Hange, Brisket

Notes: The first 4k wrote so smoothly until it didn't

Levi closed the door to your office, leaning his back onto the solid wood behind him. His head tilted against it with a gentle thump as he heaved a deep and steady sigh. You were already halfway across the room, struggling to tear your jacket from your shoulders. By the time you managed to free your left arm, the right cuff had snagged itself on the rolled-up sleeve of your button-up. You whipped it to the floor in frustration, and only then were you released from your garment’s grip. 

You made brief eye contact with Levi, his gaze as tired and exasperated as your own. He locked your office door without even having to look. A few footsteps echoed out in the hallway. You and Levi eyed each other carefully until you heard them fade into the stairwell. Wordlessly, you made your way around your desk, tugging impatiently at the bottom left drawer to take out your kettle. Something had told you that today would be tedious, so you had convenienced yourself by filling it beforehand. 

Levi plucked your jacket off the ground with a single, lazy motion, folding it properly before tossing it onto the corner of your desk. He didn’t have the energy or motivation to scold you; however, given how the week had been going, he didn’t blame you for wanting to peel your uniform off. He might have done the same if another thing had gone awry on the way to your office.

He went straight to the side cart next to your desk as you worked on heating the water. A modestly ornate teapot sat on the little four-wheeled station with a small set of teacups sitting upside down on saucers. The shelf below stored a wide selection of teas and a half-filled sugar bowl, which Levi placed on the top of the cart with the cups. The lowest shelf, which Levi had seldom paid any attention to, held your secret stash of liquors. Levi took one of the glass containers in his hands as he knelt.

“Do you even know how to use a decanter?” he grumbled. You let out a hiss somewhere above on the other side of the desk, having somehow burned yourself. 

“A what?” No wonder it was empty. 

Levi snorted, placing it back in favor of a full bottle. 

Your hand reached down to grip a container of black tea. It wasn’t Levi’s go-to, but a mutual favorite among the small hoard of teas that had been gifted from that Military Police officer you were seeing a few months back. Levi wasn’t one to pass up trying a flight of expensive teas— especially when they weren’t his own— and with your office significantly quieter than his, the arrangement at yours was the obvious choice. Even Captain Levi needed a break sometimes. 

He read the label on the round, stout bottle. Steam wafted into the air as you poured the water into the teapot. The water turned darker immediately, even before you placed the lid.

“I didn’t know there was such a proof,” Levi muttered, popping the top open to give the alcohol a smell. He recoiled, swiftly recapping the bottle.

“Oh, you know those MPs. They love any excuse for a party.” 

“S’that why it didn’t work out?” 

You handed Levi a teacup and saucer, balancing your own in one hand and picking the teapot up by the handle with the other. You shook your head, too tired to be amused.

“Among other things.” 

You slumped down at the table for two in front of your large office window, heaving out a deep sigh. While half of your view was obscured by dull brick— and uncomfortably, another window that peered into yours from a different hallway— the other half allowed you a modestly dreamy view of Trost. You took a sip of your tea. Levi sat across from you, placing the bottle of alcohol between you at the center of the table. With a flick of his wrist, the cap fell onto the wood below.

You raised your brow at him from over the rim of your cup.

“You want to drink?”

Levi only shrugged, leaning back in his chair. He gazed out the window over the lantern lights that littered Trost. 

“You look like you need it.” 

You slouched down farther in your chair until the back nestled against the bend of your neck. One side of your saucer balanced against the folds of the bunched-up fabric at the front of your button-up. You let out another sigh, allowing your eyes to flutter closed. 

Levi leaned an elbow on the table, cheek in his palm as he continued to stare out the window. He crossed his boots, ankles stretching over the legs of the tripod base. He sipped his tea, eyes almost as glazed over as the glass he gazed through. A vein just above his left eye began to twitch. Levi placed his cup down, letting it clink against the delicate saucer. He rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his palm, letting his head bow as his fingers ran through his greasy hair. 

You sat up, struggling as the legs of your chair tilted against the hardwood floor. The inch of liquid in your cup sloshed, almost spilling over the sides. It settled as you traded it for the open bottle of alcohol at the center of the table. Levi’s slender eyes studied you from behind his ruffled bangs. 

“So you did need it.”

“Shut up.”

You took a swig straight from the bottle. Levi sat hunched over, arms crossed on the wooden surface below as he watched you read the label. The liquid splashed against the glass as you swirled it. You glanced at the amber liquid, then at your teacup, and with an amused dip of your lip, you filled it—the leftover tea mixed with the alcohol, producing a lighter color. Levi’s nose crinkled at the sight.

“You degenerate.” He scowled as you took a tentative sip. Your lips pursed, pleasantly surprised. You hummed, offering him the bottle. The corner of Levi’s mouth dipped into a deeper frown, the twitch of his eye almost syncing with the twitch of his lips. 

He snatched the neck from your grip, turning his attention back to the window. Levi turned it in his hand so that the opening faced toward him. The weight of it settled on the space between his thumb and pointer finger. He took his sip from the reverse grip, a series of bubbles bursting at the bottom of the bottle. Levi returned it to the table with a flick of his wrist. 

“Same time next week?” 

You studied the dregs at the bottom of your teacup.

“You think we’ll last a week?” A single drop of brown liquid raced around the circumference of the teacup as you tilted it. Your eyebrow raised on your forehead. Levi let out a grunt as he stood. He muttered something in agreement as he capped your expensive alcohol.

You stood in suit, shrugging two of your leather straps off your shoulders as you plopped down in the chair behind your desk. Levi collected the cup you left behind on a tray as you scooted in to thumb through the files on your desk. He tilted the doorknob down with his elbow before disappearing into the dark hallway. 

You stared at the paperwork in front of you, going so far as picking up a pen to fill out a few forms before Levi came back. You hardly heard him when he did, only noticing the quiet rattle of your newly cleaned tea set as he placed it back on your cart. The amount of paperwork that you managed to finish had already formed into a significant pile to your right.

He spoke your name, placing a hand firmly on your shoulder. 

“That’s enough. It’ll be waiting for you in the morning.” 

You didn’t try to fight him and retired your pen for the night without complaint. Levi held up your jacket, helping you put it on before you exited your office together. 

***

You woke up before the sun even rose, unfortunately. After a night of shallow sleep, you barely even remembered falling asleep or if you had fallen asleep at all. The only evidence of the hours passed was the slowly ticking clock hanging on the wall near the ceiling. You laid in bed, watching the second hand make a few laps before you finally forced yourself out of bed. 

You witnessed the rest of the sunrise passively from your office, noting how the shadows of the various items on your desk moved slowly throughout the day. With the paperwork from the night before long finished, you continued with other administrative work, knowing that the mountain of files would undoubtedly keep you up for another restless night if you didn’t finish them sooner rather than later. 

The door to your office opened suddenly sometime in the early afternoon. Levi shut it swiftly and firmly behind him, letting out a deep huff as he locked it. His hand gripped a cotton handle cover tightly, turning red from the tension and the kettle that steamed below. You hardly looked up from your work, sparing only a single glimpse before clearing away a bit of the chaos in front of you. 

“You come here to hide again? I thought you said we’d pick up next week.”

“If I hear ‘Captain Levi’ again, even once for the rest of the day, I’m going to lose it.” He stormed forward, making a beeline straight for your tea cart. You reached down into your desk drawers to pluck out a trivet, throwing it forward to the edge of your workspace for Levi to place his kettle. It smacked down with a metallic slam before he knelt to rifle through your tea selection. “I swear, those brats don’t understand the meaning of a closed door.”

You glanced from the top of his head to your own door.

“Clearly,” you mused with a roll of your eyes. Levi peered up at you with a deep grimace. 

“Don’t you get smart with me.” He stood, a new tea in his palm, as he took to aggressively making a pot. “You don’t get bothered every minute of every goddamn day.”

“It just means the soldiers look up to you. You’re the one with the special unit, after all,” you noted, an almost mischievous glint in your eyes. Levi’s unspoken annoyance seeped into the atmosphere in waves. You eyed the new tin, tilting your head to read the label. “That’s a new one. I didn’t think you’d like the lavender.”

“Do you want some or not?” Levi frowned despite already pouring a cup for you. You set down your pen— it had already left a sizeable ink spot on your paper— to accept it from him. Levi took his cup to the table by the window, settling in the same seat from the previous night. 

You let him huff to himself, happy to have a nice beverage to sip on while you finished your continued to work. He’d calm himself down, given the quietness. 

At least, so you thought.

A blunt banging sounded somewhere down the hallway, a few muffled calls echoing through the door. You could hardly make out the words, although Levi seemed to have a better idea than you did. 

“Tsk, you hear them down there?” His shoulders bopped with his scoff. He took another sip of his tea. “They come to me for everything.”

“What if it’s important?” you asked absentmindedly, adding an extra loop to your signature on a routine approval form. You played with a stray strand of hair at the back of your neck. 

“It never is.”

Apparently, it was this time. 

A heavy knock sounded at your door, your name resounding from the other side, the same as Levi’s had. Levi frowned, face otherwise unintelligible as you crossed the room to answer. You clicked the lock, opening the entrance only a partial way to face the cadet in the hallway. 

“Very sorry to interrupt,” the cadet saluted, “These came from Commander Erwin. He said you’d know what they were.” She offered you a fat stack of bound papers from the crux of her left arm. You bid a quick thanks before sending the cadet on her way.

You pushed the door shut with your foot, turning slowly to where Levi sat. The five-inch stack of paper slumped limply between your two hands as you offered Levi a vast, blank stare. 

“What are the chances that there’s one of these waiting for you in your mailbox right now?” 

Levi’s shoulders visibly dropped along with his expression. 

“You’ve got to be fucking with me.”

***

If you had to give Erwin credit for one thing, it was his organizational skill. 

The thick set of files gifted to you was separated into neat, hand-labeled sections. Hell, they were color-coded, making for clear goalposts for you to aim to finish. The entire thing was laid out like a workbook, sandwiching meeting minutes with verification forms, certificates, and other items that required signatures. 

Levi appeared back at your office within minutes of you receiving yours, and sure enough, he held an amount of papers double the size of the file you had received, the paper creasing in his punishing grip.

“So you got one too,” you sighed, arms coiled over your chest.

“I can’t say I was happy about the work, but this—” You scooped up his abandoned teacup just in time as he slammed half the paperwork against your little table. The papers fanned out, revealing scattered, upside-down documents. Levi gestured curtly, one hand shoved into his pocket as he shifted his weight. —“I want that brat cadet’s name because she left mine spilling out all over the floor. The thing didn’t even fit into my mailbox. Hange’s the same, though not as bad as mine.”

He slammed the second half— apparently Hange’s— onto his chair. An apparent quarter of the documents at the bottom had been visibly shuffled. Dividers stuck out among both piles, marking sections that used to have been painstakingly organized by Erwin. 

Levi plucked a note from the middle of the pile.

“As discussed in our last meeting, please have these done by the end of next week,” Levi read aloud. “Thank you for all of your hard work. Signed, Commander Erwin Smith. Like we didn’t know… Pretentious bastard.”

You tilted your head back to stare at the ceiling, allowing yourself to wallow for only a few seconds before you turned to grab your copy of the files from your desk. Levi grumbled about a few more things that you just about tuned out. Something about an encyclopedia. You returned with your copy, disregarding Levi’s presence completely as you strode past him to your chair on the opposite side of the table. Levi’s claimed chair still sat full of Hange’s paperwork. 

You took a section of Levi’s files that appeared to have stayed together, taking note of the section and headings as you thumbed through the organized version on your lap. Levi stood over you, foot tapping against your area rug with crossed arms.

“So?” he prompted, neck craning. You glanced between the section in your hand and your version before turning a page on both.

“It looks like it’s all in the same order,” you pronounced, focusing more on the pages than talking. “A few documents that have my name on them, but they seem to be a different color. Mine are organized by section, but I’m sure we can figure out where they go if we collect all the ones that are specific to you and Hange.” You placed Levi’s portion back on the table, holding your own bound file up like a book. 

“See—” You tapped the page where Erwin had taped the same note he left for Levi. —“Erwin even left a smiley face on mine.” Levi huffed, snatching it before crinkling it and disposing of it. 

“Did you happen to see Miche?” You asked with a slight frown, but you decided to disregard Levi’s disposal of your smiley face. He shook his head.

“No, he didn’t have one in his box. Must’ve left as soon as he got it… I don’t blame him.” He took the scattered pile from the table into his hands, corralling them as best he could into an organized stack. He leveled them against the surface of the table. 

“And Hange isn’t getting back for a few days,” you said. Levi hummed affirmatively as you flipped through your work, gauging the content. “You know… I feel like we can bang the whole thing out in a few nights if we take a couple of sections at a time.”

Levi blinked at you. His lip pursed as if he wanted to say something, but he remained quiet. He turned his attention to the window with a sigh and shake his head.

“I’m getting shit sleep anyway. Whatever.”

***

Miche left his bundle on his desk, hoping it would be less daunting in the morning. Instead, when he came into the office, he could have sworn that the pile of paperwork had grown. It stared at him from the corner of his desk for the better part of the morning before he gave in and began working on it just over an hour before lunch. And now, it was almost three hours past standard work time, and Miche had hardly made a dent. 

He took the collection of finished documents in his hand, skimming through the front and back of each. The ensemble had felt like more when Miche was filling everything out. But now, as he took in the indentations of his pen and the thickness of the stack, he couldn’t help but heave a steady breath. 

Miche glanced at his watch, debating whether he wanted to turn in and take a break from his administrative burnout, when he smelled a pleasant scent in the air. He looked around his office, staring off speculatively at the ceiling before rising out of his chair. The light from his desk lamp illuminated the space in front of his office as he ventured out into the hallway, and it only took him a few steps until he was at your door. 

Miche wondered if you also happened to stay late, and if you did, he assumed you were struggling just as much with Erwin’s latest assignment. He took another inhale, now confident that this was where the smell was coming from. Muffled voices spoke on the other side, too quietly to hear. Light illuminated from underneath your office’s entrance. Miche knocked, and the room went silent for a moment before he heard,

“Come in.”

Miche saw Levi first as he sat, ankles crossed at a table across from you. Upon further inspection, the table appeared to have had two leaves added to it, elongating it awkwardly into the center of your office. You turned in your own chair, elbow resting against the chair’s back as you offered Miche a wave, seemingly surprised to see him. The extended table held a smattering of paperwork, a teapot, two teacups, and two plates of half-finished dinner sat adjacent to you and Levi, respectively. The rest of the delicious-smelling dinner that led Miche here sat in covered containers on the wide windowsill. 

“You got it, too, huh?” Levi presumed. Miche nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe. He eyed the papers, but they were too unorganized to gleam any meaningful information about your progress. 

“How far are you?” Miche asked skeptically with a slight squint of his eyes. The inch-and-a-half-thick pile you held up nearly made him gawk. “You’re kidding.” You offered him a sympathetic expression, gesturing him in.

“You want to join us? We still have some dinner.” 

Miche considered your offer, reaching up as he gripped the lip of the door. He swayed it between his fingers as he thought, his chin jerking downwards as he considered the question he was going to ask.

“We can work on it together?” he questioned, voice almost comically low and soft. Miche’s brows wrinkled, the slightest bit of tension on his forehead. Levi rolled his eyes as his teacup hovered halfway to his lips. 

“What is this? A school?” he scoffed. 

“Levi’s copy got all messed up, so we’ve been working on it together. Same with Hange. Well, they’re not back yet, but theirs got messed up too.” You yawned. “You can join us if you want, but no pressure. Levi makes a great cup of tea, though.” 

“You’re volunteering me now, huh?” 

Miche glanced back at the leftovers on the windowsill and inhaled the sweet aroma of your tea. He gave the door two quick taps, flicking his index finger before wordlessly turning on his heel.

“I’ll be right back.”

***

You decided to call it quits at some ungodly hour of the night. Miche pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging the area around his inner eyes as he fought off exhaustion. Neither you nor Levi appeared remotely as tired as you buzzed around the office, putting back the various cups, pens, and other accouterments you used during your group work session. The two of you looked exhausted, Miche decided, but not tired— if there was such an appearance. 

He stood, finally clearing the last of his papers off the table with a yawn. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked for yet another time. You shook your head.

“No, we’re almost wrapped up here. Thanks, Miche.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice, bidding the two of you a good night as he entered the dark hall. Miche could still see the light of your office on by the time he exited Headquarters.

***

Miche was apparently a very talented home cook, and Hange had evidently returned a half day early. You learned both things in approximately the same moment, having just tasted your first spoonful of Miche’s homemade risotto when Hange burst through your door.

“You guys have food?” they cried before Levi sent them off to grab one of those shitty little plates from the floor kitchenette— his words. 

Hange had apparently always been one to stick around Headquarters late, passing up the stairs and down the tiny hallway that faced directly into your office. And not one to be left out, Hange had seemingly forgotten all about their latest Titan-related project to practically knock down your door. Levi made a fourth cup of tea.

That was how Erwin, incidentally, found all of you together. 

Almost a week had passed since he sent out the files to all the section commanders, and while Erwin intended on following up with all four of you before your next meeting, the task had inadvertently slipped his mind. Before he realized, it had already become the end of the day, with the joint gathering looming early on the next day’s schedule. 

Already significantly past business hours, Erwin doubted that you would all still be in the office. At the very least, he could probably catch Hange, he decided as he made his way down the stairwell. The entire headquarters experienced a move a few months back, and while all the section commanders got their own offices adjacent to each other, Erwin’s had been moved two floors up. 

He heard Hange’s voice before he even opened the door to the landing. It echoed throughout the empty hallway as Erwin walked past the locked doors of each section commander’s office before stopping at yours at the end of the block. Hange’s voice grew clearer. Erwin knocked firmly at your door, satisfied at the prospect of being able to check in on you and Hange at the same time. He heard an audible hum from the other side. 

“Who could that be?” he heard Hange ask before you called for him to come in.

An immense, savory scent of cooking meat blasted him as he entered, and much to his surprise, all four of his section commanders were present in your office. At the very least, he had expected Levi and Miche to have already left.

He spotted Hange first, who sat with a cup of tea behind your desk among the pile of paperwork he assigned. Erwin recognized it, even as it was scattered into sections. However, the deconstructed pile didn’t hold his attention as much as the large crockpot at the edge of the desk did.

Miche held the lid with one hand. A pair of tongs was gripped in the other as a pulled meat of some sort steamed from between the claws. He held a bottle of scotch under one arm.

You and Levi sat at the table at the side of the room set for dinner and topped off with your delicate tea set. 

Erwin glanced between the four of you, fighting off the goofy smile that threatened to form on his lips. He shook his head, clearing his throat as his arms coiled across his chest as he tapped his foot.

“So,” he started, unable to help the amusement that laced his voice, “What’s going on here?” Erwin watched as you turned to eye each other, hoping that one of you had an adequate response. 

“Well, uh,” you began, glancing around the room. You gestured to Miche. “Miche made a brisket and potatoes.” 

“And the champagne?” Erwin gestured with his thick brows to the ice bucket at the center of your coffee table. What used to be a sitting area for guests had been moved aside to accommodate your extended table. Three full stacks of papers sat neatly adjacent to your celebratory wine. 

“We finally finished the beast you surprised us with— thanks for that, by the way. Well, expect Four-Eyes over there.” Levi spat in his usual charm, ushering plates to Miche to load with food and back to the table. 

“I’m almost… done.” Hange stood, making a lazy attempt at snatching a filled plate from Levi’s hands. He pivoted, holding it out of their reach.

“No dinner until it’s finished.” He smacked their intruding hand, walking a few steps to the table to place the plate in front of you. You caught him by the sleeve, giving him a gentle tug.

“Hange deserves dinner, too.” You leaned forward, fully turning away from the door as you caught Hange’s eye. “You only have, like, another section, right?” They nodded, and Levi reluctantly gave Miche a fourth plate to fill with food. 

“You finished already?” Erwin asked in surprise, already across your area rug to take in the three piles on your coffee table. He thumbed through them; sure enough, they were all filled out and accounted for. 

“Yeah, with no help from that idiot you sent,” Levi said, finally settling down in his chair across from you. Miche shrugged, gathering the last portion of food in the crock pot.

“I finished yesterday.” By the time Erwin turned around, you, Levi, and Hange were already seated. Miche motioned with his tongs. “Did you… want any?” Hange held up the container of mashed potatoes victoriously, waving it in the air. 

Another plate disappeared from the floor’s kitchenette. 

***

“So much for quiet time,” Levi muttered, scrubbing at the last of the dishes in the kitchenette sink. You let out a light laugh, fatigue making you lost in the glass you were drying. 

“I thought dinner was nice.”

“You know what I mean.” 

You didn’t answer, listening to the sink run. A single light above you flickered dully above as you stood in silence. You sat on the counter behind him, staring off into the hallway window. You didn’t turn even as you heard Levi shut the water off. He tugged the hand towel out of your grip before hanging it on a nearby handle. The glass you were drying was taken too, and placed on the surface next to you. 

“Don’t sit on the counter, it’s disgusting.” He offered his hand as he frowned up at you. You took it, sliding to the floor. Levi hit the light as you left the kitchenette together. “We’re going to have to find somewhere else soon.” You hummed in thought.

“With Erwin’s assignment done, I doubt the late nights will be a regular thing for everyone.” Levi scoffed, holding open the door to the stairwell. “My office should be fine sooner or later.”

“If we ever get that much all at once again—”

“I know you’ll give him an earful tomorrow.” Your voice reverberated in tandem with your footsteps. The moon shone clearly in the sky, illuminating your way as you traveled down. You saw it clearly when you finally made it into the outside courtyard. “We could always use your office.”

“Like hell.”

“Or—” You stopped, turning to face him. –“We can go somewhere that’s not Headquarters?” Levi glanced briefly over the cobblestone streets, hands shoved in his pockets. 

“Somewhere that’s not Trost.”

You nodded, looping your arm through his, tugging him along as you continued to walk.

“Sounds good to me.”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: I always write the Survey Corps as doing a lot of paperwork, partially because I see them as needing to cut through bureaucratic BS and also because I like giving them mundane things to do. I'd like to think that half of the leadership duty in between kicking ass is just... administrative haha

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #aot x reader #aot x gn!reader #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #levi fanfic #levi fanfiction #aot #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan fanfic #x you #x reader #reader insert #erwin x reader #miche x reader #hange x reader #erwin smith x reader #miche zacharius x reader #hange zoe x reader

[toms-cherry-trees]

Don't Hold My Hand (I'll Break Your Heart) || Tommy Shelby x Fem OC ~ Ch. 2

Summary: A doctor's visit changes Charlotte's perspective of things, and she begins to worry about her patient

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Talks of medical injury, talks of cuts and headwounds, talk of blood and medical procedures. No beta readig we die like John

Author's note: Once more sorry for the delay but I am writing so many WIPS at the same time things slip through the cracks, but I am really hyped for all the things I have planned

Requested taglist: @call-sign-shark @zablife

《 PREV PART -  NEXT PART 》

Steam rose from the kettle’s spout, the high pitched whistle indicating the water had boiled. The teapot had been filled with fragrant tea leaves and two slices of lemon. Sugar and milk side by side in the tray, alongside a plate with homemade biscuits and a platter of elegant tea sandwiches. Two white teacups with golden rims and matching saucers, one of them prefilled with a shot of white rum. Linen napkins embroidered with an S, silverware from Italy and a touch of affection from the hands that prepared the tray.

Charlotte picked it up carefully, carrying it close to her body to bear the weight easier as she took it to Thomas’ rooms, where he currently sat with his main physician for his monthly evaluation. Doctor Foster rarely had anything new to say or any glimmer of hope to offer them; he only came the first week of every month to tell them what they already knew and collect his payment. One of the very few visitors whom Thomas didn’t welcome with a scowl, perhaps because he secretly harboured the hope of one day getting the words that he wanted from the old man.

The scent of fresh flowers accompanied Charlotte as she walked to the second floor. Ever since that conversation with Mrs. Gray, she had redoubled her efforts to brighten up Thomas’ life. Vases with freshly picked flowers decorated various surfaces of the rooms, the bouquets swapped as soon as the first petals began to wither and fall. Every morning she drew back the curtains and opened the windows, to allow sunlight and fresh air inside. She encouraged him to rise from bed at appropriate times, not allowing him to linger between the sheets for days on end. Books, board and card games and even a typewriter had been brought up, in hopes of encouraging him to find anything to keep his mind and day occupied. She hadn’t managed to do something about his hair and beard yet, but she would soon get there. 

She pushed the double doors open with her shoulder, the teacups tinkling in their saucers and the tea sloshing slightly. When the doctor came around, he and Thomas met alone behind closed doors, not even his aunt allowed in, although she always received a briefing before handing in the money envelope. Whether the man spoke or not the truth of those sessions to her, one couldn’t know.

Lottie cleared her throat, barely enough of a sound to alert them of her presence as she placed the tea tray on a low table. She tried her hardest not to snoop, but curiosity can be a wild and untameable thing. She looked through her eyelashes towards the bed where Thomas lay, stripped down to his underwear. The doctor held Thomas’ foot in his hand and urged him to push against it as hard as he could. She noticed his hand fisted on the sheets, teeth gritted as he put all his efforts on heeding the simple command. As Thomas looked down at the doctor, his gaze crossed with Charlotte’s. The blue melted to pure ice, and he grabbed the closest thing he had at hand to toss towards her, which happened to be a harmless pillow.

“Out! Out of here! Now!” 

She didn’t need to be told twice. Charlotte scurried out of the room and down to the foyer. Mrs. Gray already stood there, nervously drumming her fingers against her arm as she stared out the window. On a side table lay a closed envelope with the doctor’s name scribbled on elegant calligraphy. Charlotte noted it to be slightly thinner than the previous one she had seen, just a couple days after her arrival to Arrow House. Maybe the doctor had lowered his fees for them, or maybe Mrs. Gray had decided he got paid far too much to do nothing except bear bad news.

Both women waited side by side, submerged in their own thoughts each, the silence interrupted only by the ticking of the grandfather clock. Three quarters of an hour had passed when Doctor Foster came down the stairs. He had bread crumbs on his shirt and moustache and a biscuit on hand. For some reason, that ticked Charlotte off. 

“Well?” Mrs. Gray asked harshly, also noticing that the man had surely spent more time eating than being helpful to his patient.

The doctor had the decency at least to stuff the biscuit in his pocket and brush off the crumbs before speaking. He stood straight, arms behind his back, a nervous twitch of the lips making his moustache quiver. He appeared to be intimidated by Mrs. Gray, a feeling that Charlotte shared.

“It is all just the same. His legs are weaker than in my last visit and he has started to lose sensitivity in some areas of the soles and calves. I am afraid it’s just a matter of time before he can no longer leave the chair, not even with the cane”

The news settled in the bottom of Charlotte’s stomach like a chunk of ice. They knew, all of them, the severity of Thomas’ lesions, and the limited prospects he had of recovery. But they thought, his aunt most of all, that they had more time before the inevitable. A few more years before he became completely and irremediably wheelchair bound and maybe worse than that. Charlotte knew all too well what sort of future would await then; bed sores, loss of muscle, infections. A lifespan cut in half.

And if she had come to learn something about Thomas during her time working there, he wouldn’t stand to live needing assistance to take a piss.

Mrs. Gray’s lips tightened into a line, eyes narrowing just enough to seem darker than usual. She put her hand on Doctor Foster’s bicep,the wool of his sweater straining a bit under the strength of her grip. The man didn't show it in his face, but that surely hurt. 

“May we have a word, you and I?” Her tone sounded more like a demand than a petition, as she led the doctor towards her private studio. Charlotte waited until they disappeared from sight to release a shaky breath. She steadied herself for whatever hellstorm would rain upon her and headed upstairs slowly. But halfway up, a loud crash cut through the silence, accompanied by the sounds of broken glass and muffled words that could only be curses of the thickest calibre. She picked up her skirts and broke into a sprint.

“Thomas?!” She called out as soon as she crossed the doors.

Thomas laid on the floor amidst broken porcelain and bits of food. The tea table had been flipped over, as had the delicately prepared tea tray. His wheelchair remained by the bed several feet away, with his cane carefully propped against it. Judging by the way everything lay on the floor, Thomas had tried to leave the room alone and unaided.

“Christ in Heaven what happened here?”

Charlotte rushed to his side, her keen eye immediately noticing the myriad of minuscule wounds in his hand and face from the tiny shards, along a more concerning cut on his temple from the table corner. She tried to help him sit up, but Thomas only smacked her hand away

“Leave me, I can do it. I can do it!” He growled, fighting her off like a child refusing to put on a coat in winter, or rejecting having dirt wiped from his cheek. Groaning due to the effort he rolled onto his back, but he had not enough strength to sit up without laying his wounded hands on the floor.

She paid no heed to his stubbornness and instead hooked her arms under his armpits, putting all her strength into dragging him away from the dangerous mess before he could injure himself further. She grunted with every pull, managing to move him only a few inches at a time, her muscles straining against the dead weight.

“Do you think I am a sack of shit to be dragged around?” Thomas hissed, but at least he had stopped thrashing about like a fish out of water.

“For fuck’s sake you are as heavy as you are obtuse” She retorted back, clearly not caring about the properties of their caregiver-patient relationship in that moment. At least not enough to watch her language. She only cared about somehow putting him back on the wheelchair and assessing the damage. 

It took her no small amount of physical strength and skill to get Thomas back onto his chair, even with him doing what little effort he could pushing with his legs against the floor. By the time she had managed to prop him back into place, a thin layer of sweat pearled her forehead, and she felt the dampness of her skin under the thick fabrics of her uniform. She hastily wiped her brow with her sleeve, all her attention focused on the bleeding wound on his temple. The crimson stained the left side of his face and neck and soaked the fabric of his shirt and waistcoat. Charlotte pulled off her white oversleeves to use them to stem the bleeding, but as expected he rose to battle the second she tried to touch him. 

“I said don’t fucking touch me. Get away. Get away!” He barked the last words, his hands slapping hers away repeatedly. It would have been comical if it had not been so irritant. But Charlotte finally snapped, her never ending patience finally fading into naught as the blood continued to pour and her patient continued to fight. At last, she got hold of Thomas’ wrists and forced his hands to the sides, her grip firm but not painful. She leaned in, their faces closer than they had ever been before. 

“I am going to take a look at those cuts whether you approve or not. So I suggest you make both of our lives easier and stop being so difficult” Her tone rose steadily with each word, surprising even herself. She had never spoken to another person, let alone a patient, that way. But Mr. Shelby had effectively exhausted all her reserves of compassion and in that very moment, with him wounded and pricked with glass, Charlotte couldn’t find it in herself to coddle him. In that moment he didn’t need her kindness, he needed the firmness and determination of a war nurse.

And Thomas seemed to know it too, deep down. For he fell silent the second her words rang through the air, eyes widened and lips parted, shocked to have someone speak to him that way. Slowly, like admitting defeat, he placed his hands on his lap, fingers digging tightly on the fabric of his trousers. He evaded Charlotte’s eyes as she took a seat by his side, having grabbed a small first aid kit she kept in hand. 

It seemed that Thomas Shelby couldn’t stand up to a woman who spoke louder than him.

While he held the rolled up fabric to his knocked temple, she took hold of his left hand and held it up to the sunlight. With a pair of alcohol soaked tweezers she began the delicate process of pulling the tiny shards off. Every now and then he hissed in pain and tried to pull away, but it took only a sharp look and a tightening of her grip on him to put him back on track. The pieces of porcelain tinkled on the lid of the first aid kit balancing on her knees as she dropped them, one by one. When she finished she pressed an alcohol soaked rag to his hand, forcing his fingers to curl around it. Thomas’ jaw clenched, but he refused to display any sign of pain besides the flaring of his nostrils. 

Charlotte inspected the cut on his head next, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration as she pushed aside the blood matted hair, her face so close to him her breath fanned over his face. That close she noticed even his hair smelled of cigarettes, since he refused every effort of her or anyone to help him wash.

"The cut is not deep enough to require stitching but I will have to bandage it"

Tommy snorted "I am not going to let you wrap me up like a fucking mummy"

Charlotte rolled her eyes "Mummies have their mouths wrapped shut. I cannot afford that luxury with you" She quipped, gently dabbing at the wound with a wet gauze, being as careful as she could to spare Thomas further discomfort. But that wouldn't save him from her stern words now that they had been allowed to emerge. Gentleness had proved ineffective against him, so now Charlotte had to retort to cockiness, a quality of hers she had kept buried for being ‘unbecoming’ but which now would prove useful to crack Thomas’ stone walls.

“Deep breath” She instructed, pressing the alcohol soaked cloth to his temple. Thomas bucked like a startled horse, nails digging on the armrest of the chair and teeth gritted, his head instinctively trying to escape the sharp burning, but forced to remain still by Charlotte’s firm hold. She held him against her body in an almost maternal gesture until the pain faded into a manageable sting and he relaxed his muscles and stopped huffing. 

“Are you always this much of a brute with your patients?” He asked in between heavy breaths, although his tone had dropped some of the usual sharpness in favour of something akin to amusement. As if he saw something in Charlotte that sparked his interest.

“Only with those who deserve it” The diverted smirk made it to her lips without permission. A faint hint of pride rose upon her chest, for the very first time she had managed to make Thomas comply, even if it took a head wound and raising her voice to do so. The first step had been taken for him to finally see her as an aid and not a threat or a nuisance. And Charlotte couldn’t wait to take the next. 

After she bandaged his head, having added in between a teasing comment of how things would have been much easier if he didn’t sport the haircut of a caveman, she set up to put the room back in order. The maid brought her the broom and dustpan, but Charlotte took it upon herself to clean up, knowing he wouldn’t take kindly to having others in the room while he changed out of his blood soaked upper clothes. While she swept crumbs and pieces of porcelain, the little bug of curiosity nagged at the back of her mind.

“I take it the doctor didn’t bring the news you expected” She often spoke to him, perfectly aware he wouldn’t reply, but she did it nevertheless. She always talked to her patients back in the ward, even if they couldn’t hear her or talk back. Giving them the reassurance that they had someone at their side looking after them, even if they couldn’t see her. 

Much to her surprise, however, this time the patient spoke back.

“He knows nothing, that man. I pay that man to heal me and all he does is come into me house, eat the fucking food and flirt with the maids” He pulled out a cigarette, rubbing it against his lips twice before lighting it with a black and golden lighter “He’s not coming here again”

Lottie refrained from rolling her eyes “He has been looking after you for years. Ever since you were injured during the war. He knows you better than anyone else Thomas. He is only trying to help you” As I do, she added in her mind.

“And what a great help he has been, eh?” He drummed his fingers against his thigh to emphasise his words, his piercing eyes following Charlotte’s every movement as she rolled the heavy and soiled carpet to put it aside and set the table back in place.

“I know this concept may seem foreign to you, but I beg you to show some basic kindness to the new doctor when he comes next week. I am sure Mrs. Gray had the best intentions when she asked him here and-”

He cut her words with a single statement that completely flipped her “Oh she didn’t call him here. I did”

Charlotte felt compelled to clean her ears and ask him to repeat himself in case she had heard wrong. He? Thomas himself had called a doctor to help him? It made no sense, for the man who rejected most fervently to be helped, to ask for help of his own free will.

He picked up the astonishment in her widened eyes and continued on without having to be pressed further.

“He’s been working with many veterans after the war. He seeks them to try on his new treatments. Treatments he devises himself” He snuffed his cigarette in one of her pretty vases before tossing the stub inside, letting it float around the fresh daisies Charlotte had brought that morning “He says he’s made them walk again”

A mixture of feelings flooded Charlotte, all at the same time and with such intensity she couldn’t focus on only one. Once more she had to fight back the pity, but it couldn’t be helped. How could she not feel sorry for that man who clung to the first ‘medical miracle’ that crossed his path in hopes of restoring what war had cruelly taken from him? She had seen it before, men who drank questionable syrups and tinctures, swallowed handfuls of nameless poisonous pills and subjected themselves to the most horrid types of torture medicine could invent in hopes of regaining some semblance of a past long lost.

Close second in her heart came suspicion. Thomas had mentioned that this man, this doctor whoever he was, sought the veterans himself. Which meant he utilised less than orthodox methods to retrieve confidential medical records from private practitioners and maybe even from the war offices. And those treatments created by himself? It screamed charlatan all over, a trickster who exploited desperate men and robbed them of all their life savings and more just to give them reused saline in clean vials and sugar pills in medicine bottles with handwritten labels.

Charlotte couldn’t comprehend how a man like him, so careful and methodical, a man whom everyone regarded as possessing an incomparable sharpness of mind and an overflowing resourcefulness; the man who had Birminghan quaking in their boots at the mention of his name, could be fooled by false promises of medical prowesses that smelled rotten from a mile away?

She swallowed, trying to find how to best bring up her concerns without making it sound like a direct attack on Thomas' judgement. Lottie sat on the edge of an armchair, her hands folded in her lap, fingers intertwined as she pondered her words.  

“Thomas” She rubbed her thumb and index together, a nervous tic of hers that nothing had managed to suppress “Doctor Foster has been seeing you for years now, and he has not once changed his prognosis. Don’t you find it a bit suspicious that a new doctor just comes to you and offers you a miracle?” She watched him carefully, her head slightly tilted to the left, studying his expressions. He grabbed a new cigarette, gently tapping it against the box as he spoke. 

“Doctor Foster is old and behind the times. Did you know he was the last man in Birmingham to have electricity in his house?” He sighed and scratched his brow with his thumb, pushing the edge of the bandage out of the way “He thought the toxic fumes would poison him in his sleep” 

Lottie snorted. She failed to understand how a man scared of electricity gave credit to this new physician. “Okay, I understand it. Doctor Foster is afraid of progress, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t good at what he does” Charlotte wondered if her reasoning would find home in his brain or if she just wasted saliva talking to the walls “But this man? Thomas, don’t you find it at least a bit suspicious? Did you even question him on where he got your medical file from?” Nothing made sense, that after they checked her background before even summoning her for a mere interview, they didn’t hold the same standard to the man who would be juggling Thomas’ health in his hands.

He didn’t acknowledge her concerns, obviously. In fact, he seemed to not have heard them at all. He turned his wheelchair towards the double doors, the sunrays warming his skin as he closed his eyes, dried up blood still glued to the side of his face and clinging to his beard. He brought up the cigarette to his mouth but never made it quite there, hovering just an inch away from his lips as he stared out towards the vast woods. 

“The doctors make progress every day. They create new medicines, new treatments, they heal more and more people every day. If one doesn’t help you go to another, and another, and another until one does what others can’t” As Charlotte approached him slowly, she noticed he had a sort of dreamy look in his eyes, and for a moment she worried he had gone too hard on his nighttime visit to the morphine bottle. But the dazed gaze didn’t come from opioids. It came from hope. Endless, boundless, foolish hope.

And it worried her to no end.

Charlotte crouched next to Thomas slowly, her hand coming to rest in the crook of his elbow. Surprisingly, he didn’t shake her away; perhaps he didn’t even notice her at all, lost for a moment in a daydream of miracles and a bright future.

“Thomas” Soft words, pleading even, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt “Think this through, think carefully. If something sounds too good to be true, then it is too good to be true. If this physician is such an eminence, then why is he not sharing his discoveries in the Medical Society of London, or being named director of a large hospital? Why is he not speaking before the King and being put in the list of honours of the year? Why is he seeking his patients instead of them flocking to him?” She shook his arm, hoping to shake his senses too “This is a scam, Thomas. He is a liar. I am sorry, but you will not get better, and you know it Thomas” 

Those last words hit the sensible fibre in him. He shook Charlotte off with such roughness she lost her balance and toppled back, landing on her ass on the floor. The dreaminess had cleared from his eyes, swapped back to his usual coldness and the everlasting hint of anger, anger at the world and destiny and everything and everyone that had led him to that state.

Thomas pushed open the double glass doors with his fingers and rolled his wheelchair forward. The sun framed him, making him seem like a shadow stepped out of golden light. He lit the cigarette at last, puffing out the smoke in rings. He leaned back his head, as if relaxing to take a nap, but his eyes remained open, focused on the clear skies. He spoke the next words softly, but they resounded loud and clear for Charlotte.

“I will walk again. I know I will” A long drag of the cigarette “And if I don’t, then there is nothing left for me in this life”

#marsie writes #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x fem oc #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby series #tommy shelby one shot #charlotte tindall #female oc #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #don't hold my hand (i'll break your heart)

[yowyowyaoi]

As a fellow citizen adopted by Ireland I have a habit of putting milk in my tea

What do our tea loving Akatsuki members think about it? Is is a crime?

Even if they DO think it’s a crime, they’re literal criminals who have committed far worse offenses. Don’t let them judge you!

That being said, I kinda … got carried away … 🫣

*Drinking Tea with the Akatsuki*

Deidara

Dei is not much of a tea drinker. He’s not much of an anything drinker, except for soda, which he downs more of than is healthy. However, sometimes he can be persuaded to have a cup with Konan or ((very rarely)) Itachi. Deidara has always been a bit of an insomniac, and has great difficulty falling asleep and staying asleep. Itachi introduced him to the calming benefits of chamomile tea , and for a while this really helped to put Dei out. But. After awhile he started to get “bored” with the taste and started adding things to make it “explosive”. Like a ridiculous amount of sugar. And flavored creamers, the type typically used in coffee. Which of course cancelled out the sleepy-time effect and had Deidara wide awake all night, as usual.

Konan

Konan really only likes drinking tea when she can have some type of dessert with it. She purposefully picks out a type of Chinese tea called Kuding tea, as it’s known for being especially bitter. She won’t add anything to it, no creams or sugars or anything, and instead balances it with a piece of apple pie, or a cream cheese tart; something where the sweetness counteracts with the bitter. Drinks it most frequently with Nagato or Itachi. Also is like Hidan in that she likes to add a bit of theatrics to teatime; she likes to put flowers in her hair, and wear a cute printed dress with matching shoes. Also loves to stick out her pinky and use an accent, although her accents are infinitely better than Hidan’s.

Hidan

Won’t drink tea unless it’s with the others. Always adds at least half a bottle of honey to his cup, which makes it look all sludgy and goopy. Makes it a point to hold his teacup with his pinky sticking out, because he heard that “that’s how the rich, fancy fucks do it!” Also attempts to speak with an accent, although WHAT accent he thinks he’s doing is a mystery to the others. Likes plain black tea the most because it gives him a “blank canvas” to add things to it to change the flavor.

Obito

When he was growing up, drinking tea was something that he did with his grandmother every single day. He’d come home from school, she’d brew them each a cup of tea, and he’d sit and tell her about his day at the academy. It was a cozy, comforting ritual, and one that Obito sometimes likes to partake in, in adulthood. When he was a boy the strong taste of tea was almost too much for him, so his grandmother would always add milk to his (oftentimes the cup would be more milk than tea). Obito still does this, adding milk or sometimes cream to his cup. Most of the time he’ll drink tea alone, but sometimes he’ll sit with Itachi (who has his own memories of teatime with his mother) and the two will sit and quietly  reminisce with each other. All flavors of tea rank pretty much the same to him, but he is very partial to those that are berry-flavored, with black cherry being his favorite.

Kisame

Kisame doesn’t exactly like tea. He prefers to stay hydrated almost solely through water. But being partnered with Itachi changed a bit of that mindset for him. He still doesn’t like the taste of tea, but the act of drinking tea itself has become something that’s familiar and comforting to him. His young partner loves going to tea and dessert cafes in their downtime, and THIS, Kisame loves. Something about the two of them being in plainclothes, not having to carry the identities of being a swordsman of the mist or an Uchiha or a member of the Akatsuki, just two friends doing something normal and mundane … it’s very freeing to Kisame. Kisame is like Deidara in that he adds a lot of sugar to his cups (but only when Itachi isn’t looking, as he’s kind of a purist about those types of things). Is also like Obito as he prefers berry flavored teas, with blackberry being his preference.

Nagato

This man is on a very strict diet, as his fragile and emaciated body can only digest so many things. The caffeine content of a lot of commercial teas is too high for him, but one thing he can handle is peppermint tea. The smell reminds him of the winter holidays, which has always been his favorite time of the year. Konan makes him his tea and, like Obito takes his, adds plenty of milk to it for her friend. It has to cool down considerably (he can’t handle anything too hot or too cold) and then he usually drinks it from a large mug with a straw. Also really loves when any of the others (aside from Konan) seek him out to have tea and talk with him. 

Zetsu

Does the tea have blood in it? If not, then he ain’t interested.

Kakuzu

Is very interested in drinking tea … if it doesn’t cost him anything. Which most of the time it won’t; the others all have what seems like thousands of tea bags and assorted leaves around, and there isn’t anyone that’s not willing to share. Kakuzu suffers from a lot of body aches, and will therefore always gravitate towards green tea, which helps relieve inflammation and pain. Kakuzu isn’t a man who allows himself a lot of luxuries in life, but his favorite treat for himself is to take a long, hot bubble bath with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies. Will constantly get on the others if they don’t finish their cups, and really doesn’t like it when they excessively use things like sugar or creamers.

Sasori

The puppet doesn’t drink tea. Even when he was a human, he didn’t see the point of tea. He is (was) strictly a coffee man. When asked, he said he remembers tea tasting like “water where something went horribly wrong”.

Itachi

Ah, this man. The Akatsuki’s champion of tea drinkers. This guy could tell you what tea you have blindfolded, or from a single whiff all the way in another room. He’s the one everyone else will go to, to ask what type of tea is best for what. Can’t sleep? Itachi knows what to give to you. have anxiety? Itachi’s already making you a cup of something that’ll calm you down. His hobby is visiting tea cafes and just recently he’s gotten into collecting ornate tea cups. He’s the type who likes to make tea from leaves, not a bag, and use an old fashioned kettle. It takes a while but his brew always smells and tastes better than anything you could buy in a shop. Having tea with other members is how he forms bonds with them, and he’s a lot more talkative when he has a tea cup between his hands. He normally doesn’t add anything extra to his tea, preferring to savor the natural flavors; although if he’s having a “down” day he’ll use a cube or two of sugar as a pick me up. Obito convinced him to use a little bit of milk once, but Itachi really didn’t care for the taste and never did it again after that one time.

#ask #the akatsuki #drinking tea #deidara #konan #hidan #obito uchiha #itachi uchiha #nagato uzumaki #zetsu #sasori #kakuzu #kisame hoshigaki #headcanons

[thepenultimateword]

Sweet as Sugar, Sharp as Fangs Part 2

Thank you @creweemmaeec11 for helping come up with the title!

Part One

The ada who opened the door wore nothing but a barely knee-length bathrobe and a pink boa. Luckily, he had enough thick gray fur, meticulously brushed and fluffed, that Maeve didn't feel quite so much like she was staring at a bare chest. His ears were like a jackal's, very long and pointed, only varying in their curled tips, but that was where the canine features ended: flat face, coonish paws, and no tail that she could see. And she was staring. Stupid. She couldn't just stare people up and down like pieces of...

Her gaze froze halfway toward the ground.

Cradled in the plush crook of one arm, so bundled he camouflaged in the fur and fabric, was her baby.

"Dio!" the ada said brightly, eyes fixing on the Dionyus.

"Finch!" Maeve cried simultaneously.

The ada's attention shifted onto her, flashing a smile full of short sharp teeth. "Oh, are you mum?" He adjusted Finch's weight in both hands to hold him out to her.

Maeve made no hesitation to pull him into her own arms, giving him a quick once-over.

The ada leaned forward, the scent of cinnamon wafting off his robe.

"He had an itty bitty little raw spot on his nose," he said, pointing a clawed finger, "but I spread lemon balm on it and since then he's been sleeping like a dream. You're different than I was expecting. Dio did say human, but he described you smaller and more deadish, but looking at you right now, you're quite lively. I can see it in the eyes, baby's got your eyes, lucky eh? I read that eyes are a person's most important feature because they're so central. They often carry the weight of a first impression. Speaking of, maybe you'd like some lemon balm with you for your own raw spots? I have lots and lots so if you'd like a jar, feel free to take one."

"Flor," said Dionyus, promptly stopping the other ada from finding another topic. "This is Maeve. Maeve this is Flor."

"Yes! Do come in!"

"We just came to pick up--" Dionyus started, but Flor was already starting back into the sitting room.

"So what is a human doing all the way out here at the wall? Sorry, silly question, it's obvious why. What's baby's name?"

Maeve glanced at Dionyus, ignoring his shaking head as she stepped after him. "Finch."

"How adorable. It really suits. Tea? I just heated some water."

Maeve blinked. A week ago she was isolated and fleeing for her life, yesterday she was trying to live just long enough to deliver Finch to safety, and now, an ada in a bathrobe--the third ada she'd ever properly met--was offering her tea. It was such a strange turn of events she could barely get out more than, "Er...I..well...I suppose?"

"Excellent! Dio?"

"As long as it's not any of your homemade blends."

Maeve startled to find the dark ada over her shoulder. So he'd followed her after all.

Flor let out a gentle huff as he bent for the teapot. Turned out he did have a tail, bobbed and only just peeking from his robe. "You know, Saren likes my blends. He uses them to stay alert on tower duty. You'd get used to them if you drank them enough. But alright, I won't force you. What sounds better ginger lemongrass or hibiscus blossom? " His tail flicked as he talked, lifting the hem of his robe.

"Flor, shouldn't you put something on?"

"Hm?" Flor glanced back at Dionyus with oblivious gray eyes. "No, I'm fine."

"I didn't mean for you."

"Ohhh." Flor smirked. He grabbed both tea boxes, hooking a couple teacups on his fingertips along the way, and balanced everything stressfully, but surprisingly well to the sitting table, plopping to the couch with a pof! of overstuffed cushions. He looked at Maeve as if imparting a secret. A particularly silly one. "Dio is shy. He never undressed in front of anyone the entire time we were in academy. He always arrived extra early. If we had a surprise drill, he waited until the armory was empty no matter the punishment for lateness."

"I'm not shy." Dionyus's feathers raised a fraction poking out like quills. "I'm simply not shameless like you."

Flor laughed, but ultimately ignored the hint, measuring out the herbs into a strainer over the first cup.

Maeve watched his nimble movements with lip-parted awe. She'd never seen an ada so comfortable in his own skin. Magnum had always seemed half-ready to climb out of his.

And she was staring again.

She shook herself. "Um...he--" Maeve nodded in Dionyus's direction, unable to bring herself to say his name like someone familiar and not a stranger only a few sentences deep into acquaintanceship. "--said you know a lot about children. Do you have your own?"

"Aw, Dio!"

"I never said a lot. I said more."

"Coming from you, that's still a compliment." Then to Maeve. "Short answer, no. But I am a chirr."

"A...chir?"

"Yeah, it's the type of ada I am."

"There are types?"

"Of course," Dionyus said. "We may look jumbled to you, but it's not like we turn out by chance."

"And how am I supposed to know that?" Maeve snapped. "By absorbing knowledge through mere presence?"

Dionyus glared but Flor continued cheerily as if the exchange hadn't happened.

"Dio is a shadowghast; if I may be so bold, Finch looks wolfbane. There many many types of adas, and despite what Dio said, we can get rather jumbled if types intercross, but most tend to stick to their own. You see, we all do things a little differently, so it's ideal to find a partner who shares those practices."

"Humans do that too," Maeve said. She stroked her fingertip down Finch's snout--smiling at his tiny yawn--perfectly aware of how she had not. She'd probably gone as far from familiar as she could go. The village called her a witch. Others a demoness. Her family favored the side of "broken-minded."

"For instance," Flor launched, passing a finished, floral-scented cup toward Maeve. "For chirr's, babies are a boy thing. We raise the kids and the mums do that hunting thing. Better because they've got us surpassed in size and teeth. Anyway, I grew up with lots of siblings so I've got lots and lots of experience. No mate yet, fingers crossed, but if you wouldn't mind putting in a good word for me around town that I'm very baby prepared?"

"She's not staying."

Maeve and Flor turned toward Dionyus together.

"She's not?"

"I'm not?"

Dionyus's feathered were straight up now, tufted ears flared and flattened. His long tufted tail lashed the floor. "Of course not! This is the Wall, specifically designed to keep humans out. She's lucky I even brought her this far, imagine the chaos if the inner city found out."

Panic crawled up Maeves throat, but she swallowed it hard before it could turn audible. Instead it writhed like snakes in her stomach. She'd done everything, risked everything, to get here. The trip had only proven what she already knew, there was no place for ada on her side of the wall. Not as equals anyway. And she didn't know if she could do isolation again after Magnum... Looking over her shoulder all the time, spooking at every sound, raising Finch afraid and hidden.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" she said.

"Leave."

"She can't do that!" Flor said for her. "She has a baby!"

"Finch can easily be set up in a wolfbane family. They're all about taking in strays. He'll be healthy and happy and--"

"I'm not leaving him." Maeve growled it, eliciting a small, sleeping cry from Finch as she held him tighter. "I didn't intend to live this long, but if I've made it this far, I'm seeing it through. I'm not just abandoning my son to a bunch of random creat-- adas. I'm especially not entrusting him to big, black feather duster who only helps as far as it's comfortable."

Dionyus shot upright, sloshing tea over the rim of Maeve's teacup as he hit the table. "You and your mutant child are none of my business. I did a good deed bringing you here, a far better deed than almost anyone else here would have offered you. Now, an ugly, bald-faced human isn't going to go unnoticed for long, so you're going to make a decision: leave the child as you intended or go together."

"Neither. You're just going to have to live with seeing my ugly bald face around town. I'm staying, and you can't make me go."

Dionyus scoffed. "How quaint. You think I'm what's denying you access? I'm a soldier. This is a council-level inquiry, and you'll never reach the building let alone get an audience."

Maeve glanced at Flor for clarification. The ada's long ears had gone sideways and he scrunched a little in his seat.

"The council are judges," he said quietly. "The big law deciders of the wall. Anything big questions are brought to them. They're located in the seat. That's in the center of the beyond, in the inner cities. Humans...technically aren't allowed."

"And I'm not vouching for you," Dionyus said.

Maeve stood abruptly, glaring firmly into the dark ada's narrowed eyes. "Then I'll talk to the council myself."

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii i @deflated-bouncingball l @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia a @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax x @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotetoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516

Halfway through writing, I realized that this is literally Flor:

#fantasci #fantasci writing #fantasy #monster x human #monsters and humans #fantasci tumblr #fantasy writeblr #fantasy writing community #writblr #writeblr #writing #writing community #writers of tumblr #creative writing #writing snippet #writing series

[bowtiepastabitch]

Here have a ficlet

Aziraphale is at his desk with one of his beloved books downstairs, and Crowley is standing awkwardly in the shop’s little kitchen debating the merits of using the well-loved vintage kettle on the stove and simply miracling it himself. Aziraphale would probably be horrified at the prospect, perhaps even as scandalized as when he learned Americans heat their water in the microwave, but what he doesn’t know surely can’t hurt him. With a sigh, the demon fills the kettle and lights the stove, but under his glare the water knows better than to dilly dally and boils in seconds. He can practically feel the angel perking up from across the building at the whistle of the kettle, and he’s rewarded with a glowing smile as he descends the steps carefully balancing the tray.

“Doin’ alright, angel?”

“Oh, just splendid my dear. Is that my Paris blend?”

“Err, I just grabbed something out of the cabinet.”

The angel closes his eyes contentedly and breathes in the fragrant steam, scented with vanilla and currant and of course good, strong tea. There’s no need for him to know how long Crowley spent smelling different blends agonizing over what he might find the most soothing, carefully rearranging them back exactly how he found them in the cupboard, measuring it out in little scoops, counting sugar cubes.

“It smells wonderful, may I?”

“Thassss what it’s here for.”

He gently lifts the delicate teacup from the tray with a grateful glance up and takes a long, slow sip. The angel’s eyes flutter closed with a soft moan of pleasure that makes the surface of the tea ripple lazily. It’s unfair how gorgeous he is, Crowley thinks, fighting the urge to lean down and kiss him.

“Thank you, Crowley. That was very kind of you.”

Oh, this is entirely selfish, angel.

“Ngh, just thought you might appreciate… a drink.”

Real smooth.

“I do, I really do.”

The angel’s smile is infectious, and Crowley fights not to grin idiotically. He quickly loses the battle, going weak at the knees as Aziraphale licks his bottom lip contentedly before taking another sip.

#the tea I'm drinking rn is 'paris' from Harney & Sons and it's so good #this is a fluffy bit from a larger WIP #good omens fanfiction #good omens ficlet #good omens #ficlet #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable spouses #aziracrow #sad_dyke writes

[dreadsuitsamus]

Comfort | Itachi Uchiha x Reader |

author's note: i'm sleepy and have itachi on the brain, don't expect too much from this. i apologize for any mistakes or things that don't make sense, i just wanted to write a short, sweet little story. the love in my heart for that man is something else

pairing: itachi uchiha x fem!reader

warnings: none, it's just fluff

It's quiet inside the small cabin. Itachi has been bedridden with some sort of influenza, so you've been caring for him. You met him some time ago in these woods, maybe two or so years ago, looking exhausted and wearing a dark robe with red clouds that looked far too warm for the humid weather of that day. His eyes were red and he looked ready to strike, but you had raised your hands innocently and introduced yourself, and once he'd given his name to you, you'd taken him to the old family cabin to give him a place to get some rest safely.

You wring out a rag and replace the one that's dried out on his forehead, a few cool water droplets running down his temples. His eyes are closed and he's breathing steadily, but you know he's not asleep. He's just too tired to do anything but lay there.

"Figures my first time seeing you in months would be spent taking care of you." You murmur and stand, wiping your damp hands on your apron. "Good thing I decided to come out to the cabin; you look awful."

There's a soft huff of breath from his nose. "Apologies for my appearance, miss. I'll resume attractiveness shortly."

You crack a smile and head to the kitchenette. "Do work on that, would you? Perhaps you could start by getting some sleep."

His reply is a noncommittal hum. He's gotten a few hours of sleep as you've stayed at the cabin with him, none of them consecutive. In fairness, his cough has been hefty, though as you've tended to him for the last week, it's gotten much better to where he theoretically should be able to rest.

You remove the tea leaves from the cup you left to steep, adding a little bit of sugar and stirring it. Itachi, you'd learned a while ago, had a sweet tooth. You'd had a small bowl of candy on the table when you left the cabin one morning, leaving for the majority of the day to meditate, and when you came back it was nearly empty, the only culprit being the man reading a book on the windowsill with a candy-shaped bulge in his cheek.

"Got you some tea." You say softly and carefully bring it to Itachi.

He uses quite a bit of his strength to sit up, the blanket falling down his bare torso. He removes the damp towel from his forehead and sets it aside, carefully taking the cup from your hands and holding it around his chest, the warmth spreading in his body. He closes his eyes again, the steam helping to ease his sinus pressure.

"Thank you." He opens his dark eyes, glancing at you with a little sparkle in his eyes. He raises the teacup to his lips and takes a small sip, the heat of the tea close to scalding him. He likes it though, so he takes another sip and allows the heat to settle on his tongue for a moment.

You pick up the towel and settle it in the crook of his neck, pressing the back of your hand to his cheek for just a moment, ignoring the flutter of your heart. "Seems the fever is finally staying down. I'd say you're on the mend." You smile softly. "Imagine how much better you'd feel if you'd been getting proper rest."

Itachi breaks eye contact and finishes his tea. He politely puts the cup on the table beside the bed and looks to you with his oh so tired eyes. "You're right. I just don't want to sleep while you're here."

"Ah- Hwhat?"

Itachi takes your hand, cradling it between both of his. He's warm and smooth to the touch, just as you imagined he would be. "I do not like to sleep while you're with me here."

"But… Why?" You squeeze his hand.

"With my… Line of work." His lips settle into a firm line. You don't really know what he's up to when you're not patching him up in some way in this cabin. Hell, you don't even know why his eyes were red as rubies the day you met him. "It could turn out that the next time we go our separate ways could be the last. I… Just want to savor what I can, just in case."

"Itachi…"

He gazes directly into your eyes. "I am sorry to hold up the healing process."

You brush his hair from his face, holding your hand at his cheek. "You don't have to apologize. You're… The only person I have to take care of. You make me feel needed. And I wish I could see you more often."

He turns his head and kisses your palm, nuzzling his nose gently against you with closed eyes. Content is settling in, it seems. You lean in and kiss his temple. "Rest now, Itachi."

"Only if you lay with me. Please."

"Well how could I ever say no to that face?" You say softly, pulling off the apron and climbing into bed with him. He's on his side and facing you, pulling you close to his warm body as he buries his face in your hair.

You smile to yourself and cozy up to him, leading him into a comfortable slumber. Right before you pass out, you swear you hear a whisper from him.

"Thank you for loving me."

#itachi uchiha x reader #itachi uchiha x you #itachi #itachi uchiha #x reader #fem!reader #naruto #naruto shippuden #is falling asleep in his arms too much to ask #i don't think so #fic

[lunar-writes-things]

Rebel the Crown!

Pairing: Soup Group x Reader, ImpulseSV x Reader, Geminitay x reader, Pearlescent Moon x reader

Summary: In which a heist ends up with you talking about how you feel 

Genre: Fluff

Extra notes: I might've added a sad bit because I wanted this to be an okay-ish length but this was based off of something I saw from @stitchthesewords!!! I'll reblog immediately after!! Enjoy!

Content warnings (If any): none

WC: 1.4k

”My loves,” You whine out to your partners who are hidden somewhere in your home 

Three heads popped out from behind the corner of your kitchen at your call and the sweetest little redhead asked 

“Yes our darling?” ink was smudged on Gem’s button nose and Pearl’s hair was ruffled and messed up while Impulse’s man-bun was let down “What's going on?” 

“I was bored, but seeing as how all of you are kinda off because of your planning I was thinking we all clean up and take a nap?” You said before adding on “or I can help and we can terrorize the king all together?” 

Sinister grins spread across their faces and the three picked you up and moved you to their 'secret' underground location where they have their plans 

"So," You hummed as they set you down gently "Where do I start?" 

That evening, you were placed in front of the crastle doors, a distraction while your partners were hiding to quickly fly in and steal the crown and then some. You knocked, flinching when you heard the dull echo from inside the castle. The door opened with a creek and Bdubs stood before you a proud grin on his face. 

"Y/n!" he exclaimed "Welcome! What can I, the royal right hand, do for you?" 

"Oh!" You smiled gently, before rummaging around your inventory satchel to pull a bag of cookies and peppermint tea bags "I just wanted to come by for tea and cookies! Would that be okay?" 

"That's perfectly fine!" Bdubs said before whispering "I think he's been too stressed. He's so paranoid about the soup group trying to steal from him and I know you're their partner but we can trust you right?" 

"Of course Bdubs," You said with a soft smile, trying not to let the evil smirk spread across your face 

They have no idea

"Perfect! Come in, come in, I'll introduce you to the King." The man covered in moss said and allowed you to walk through the door and closed it after you before he led you to the king's throne room where you see your partners glued against the window high above 

Meanwhile, in front of you, A giant nearly 8-foot Werewolf hybrid sat in front of you, half alseep on the throne he was manspreading on. 

"My king!" Bdubs exclaimed, waking up Ren with a large jolt "You have a visitor. I present, Y/n of hermitcraft." 

"Good evening My king," You gave a deep bow, figuring you have to play the part "I have come with a treat, of delights of tea bags of my own brew and warm Pastries." 

Ren's eyes widened and he looked to Bdubs who nodded before he turned to look back at you and said "I would... enjoy that. Please, follow me. The throne room is no place for tea." 

You waited til he got up and went ahead to follow the wolf hybrid, winking to your partners who gave you a thumbs up 

Bdubs boiled water as you set up cups and Pastries, making conversation with the King and his right hand in the crastles kitchen. You sprinkled to be what looked like sugar on the pastries and in two the teacups and put them in the tea bags right as Bdubs turned around with boiling water. You grabbed the two tea cups with the 'sugar' and place them in front of Ren and Bdubs who just sat down. 

"Please, Enjoy," You said and placed the plate of cookies and other baked goods in front of them 

"Why aren't you enjoying this?" Ren asked as you sat down "Without your partners I mean?" 

"They haven't been home lately," You explained softly and poured a spoonful of honey into your own tea "And while I love and support them in whatever endeavors they do, I miss them quite a lot." 

Your words were not a lie. Even doing this you were separated from your partners and it made your heart ache. You missed them dearly, but you never wanted to hold them back so you made no sound. You took a slow sip of your tea and looked at the two with sad eyes, And Bdubs put a gentle hand on your forearm, and Ren took a sip of his drink... finally. 

looks like the two were waiting to see if you would drink it in case it was poison. 

So they can be smart. 

not smart enough though. 

Bdubs took a sip after and you talked to them for nearly five minutes until the 'sugar' finally worked. 

Nothing like tea and crushed-up sleeping pills to make people sleep. 

You soon rushed out of the room after leaving a note and helped her partners pack up some of the diamonds and get out of there before the sleeping pills wore off. 

And boy, You were glad they did that when they did because Ren woke up FURIOUS. 

Giggles echoed through the night as the three made their way back to their secret base that The soup group made and stashed the diamonds away in a secret place. You joined your partners in the extra extra large shower for all of them and got dressed to sleep in the hideout. All of you lay on the bed you commissioned scar for at the beginning of the season and curled up into each other. It was calm but there was an anxiety in the air. 

"Y/n?" Gem's voice was soft and insecure from the end and being the smallest spoon

"Yes Darling?" You whispered and subtly tightened your arm around her waist 

"Do we make you feel lonely? Like-" Pearl asked but started to stuble over her words

"I think what our girls are trying to ask if we make you feel left out when we go after Ren." Impulsed filled in the blanks

You were quiet for a bit. Should you tell them the truth? Should you hide it from them? 

"...Sometimes." You admitted "But I could never ask you guys to stop. You are doing a great thing. It's just- It just gets lonely when you guys aren't here. The bed is so... cold when you three aren't there and when I wake up you guys are asleep or already gone again. Don't get me wrong, I don't need to be by your sides 24/7 but-" 

You were cut off by Gem turing around and  giving you a big kiss to your lips 

"You don't need to explain anything," Impulse said and wrapped his arms around you, pearl, and attempted to hug gem as well from the very back of the line up, "We're so sorry to make you feel even the slightest bit left out." 

"It's-" You tried but was stopped 

"It's not fine, Y/n." Gem said softly "Please tell us when you begin feeling like this. We love you so much and we want to give you the world. You shouldn't have to feel alone because we want to start a coup."

"I love you guys," You whispered "I love you all so much." 

"We love you too our queen," They all chimed at the same time and held onto you tight 

"And we will always be here," Impulse whispered "We are in your dream, in your life, and most importantly, in your heart." 

"You guys are my dream." You yawned 

#luna has written #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft smp #hermitcraft #hermitcraft impulse #hermitcraft gem #hermitcraft pearl #impulse x reader #impulsesv #geminitay #geminitay x reader #gem x reader #impulsesv x reader #pearlescentmoon #pearlescentmoon x reader #c!impulseSV #c!geminitay #c!pearlescentmoon #c!soup group

[moonlightandmarble]

Give Me The Night-Theatrical Release

When Sleep tires of Vessel and all seems lost, an even more ancient being is called to intercede...

(I haven't written anything like this in years so please be gentle and if you need something tagged please let me know. This is about the lore characters because RPF is weird and uh yeah idk pleaseenjoybye)

Vessel watched as Two scratched figures into the sand with a piece of driftwood that had washed ashore. He had been extra quiet as of late, and it had not gone unnoticed by the others. Here, in the pocket between worlds that existed outside of time and reality, it was all the more apparent. It was if he was waiting for something, and yet when questioned he replied he was fine. 

And for all other appearances he was, he was still constantly inhaling caffeine, still contributing to the Great Work, still occasionally slipping into old vernaculars from before he became the Second Vessel. They all tended to do that, all of the Vessels. They all came from different places in time, and as Sleep selected them throughout the eons they came together to make the Great Work. None would remember what they were before, but fragments of the past would reveal themselves as time went on. And lately, more of those fragments were coming forward, representing themselves in the addition of colors and cloth, flashes of individuality. And in some cases…the smallest sparks of rebellion.

  All of these things troubled him, all the more because he was seeing it in himself as well. Something was happening to all of them. And it did not help that Sleep had become more and more withdrawn from him. His Presence even in the First’s mind far less frequent. He both hated his absence and reveled in it. The loneliness could drive him to dash out onto the beach in despair, throwing himself into the waves and crying out for an answer that would never come. But the others, they were always there to pull him out, to pull him back from the brink and surround him. Their presence was less overwhelming, more gentle, and Vessel the First had grown to be so grateful for them. 

 So he found himself smiling as he watched the Second, not even realizing the Third had sat down next to him until a warm cup of tea had been placed into his hands,

“You’re doing that thing again”

  “What thing?”, he turned the teacup in his hands, watching the steam rise up and humming as he felt the heat sink into his skin.

“You’re doing some Deep Thinking. Drink your tea. You need it.”

He wanted to argue but the Third always spoke his mind, and most of the time he was insufferably right about things. So he sighed and sipped, “Thank you”

The Third crossed his long legs in front of him, leaning back on his elbows, “So no return call on the God Phone then?”

Vessel swallowed and grimaced. The tea was excellent, but the words planted a bitter pill that stuck in his throat, “No. He does not answer. Even after all the Rituals, after all we put into the Great Work-“, he stopped himself. He was being ungrateful, childish, dancing too close to heresy. He shouldn’t speak in such a way about the one who had done so much for them. Who had changed them, brought them up and remolded them from the dust they once were. 

He took another sip, “I’m sure he has his reasons”

      Three made a quiet “hmmm”, the one that Vessel knew was a noise of doubt. The one the Third used when he knew Vessel was making excuses. Before he could respond though, The Fourth had sat down on the other side of him, seemingly contemplating the waves, before nodding his head towards Two, “He’s still at it with the strange sigils again then?”

Three looked over, Two having his back to them, apparently so engrossed in what he was doing he didn’t even notice them watching him, “Every day now. I asked if he wanted anything and he said he was fine with his usual sugar water.”

Four pulled his legs up and sat his chin on them, contemplative, “What you make of it?”

Three shrugged, “Can’t force him to tell us really. But maybe the Rituals are wearing him out? We were traveling for a long time for the last one. He doesn’t seem to be in any distress at least.”

Vessel looked on, silently finishing his tea and setting it aside when he felt a familiar prickle at the back of his neck. He straightened up, getting to his feet, and looking at the sky above, “He is coming…”

They all scrambled to their feet, all except for Two, who was still busy scratching the mystery symbols into the sand with all the intensity of a university student at exam time. Before Vessel could call to him though, Sleep manifested himself before them, hovering between the ocean and the sky. 

The six eyes Sleep had given Vessel allowed him to see things that others could not. Things hidden behind the vestiges of the material world, things both beautiful and grotesque, all uncanny. But even he couldn’t fully comprehend Sleep’s appearance. Multiple eyes in multiple colors blinked and stared, vanished and reappeared against an ever changing background. Sometimes he was as a black cloud, sometimes he was a school of fish, sometimes he was a great and prehistoric sea beast, sometimes he was a wholly alien mass of tendrils and snapping squid beaks, but always with the look of detached curiosity in his many eyes as he watched them.

As Vessel knelt Sleep’s voice pressed into his mind, and he felt the examination begin. Like hundreds of tendrils poking into his brain and turning it over and over, looking for any small flaw or hidden treasure to be pulled out and dissected and studied. 

The Voice began, in a monotone made up of a thousand voices, “You guard your thoughts from me, why?”

“If I am, it is not intentional I assure you.”

“This is not the first time, my Vessel. It speaks to a pattern that I find unacceptable”, the pressure in his mind intensified, making him wince in pain. He grit his teeth but spread out his hands, an attempt to placate, “Please, I am still yours. I am still faithful.”

“And yet you Keep Secrets.”

 The probing got even worse, and he doubled over in agony, grasping at the sand as the pain blinded him with white hot light, choking out a plea, “What have I done to offend you? Please!”, he felt the hands of Three and Four on him, trying to soothe as tears began to form. He tried to shoo them away from him, his hands shaking. But they helped ease him back up, holding him steady between them.

“But you cannot hide anything from me, my servant. Your mind has been wandering, your attention strays, you seek that which is forbidden to you. The seeds of Doubt have been planted, and now that which sprouted roots in you must be removed.”

He lifted his head, staring wide eyed, “I don’t understand, what are you saying?”

“The other vessels are no longer necessary. They have served their purpose, and now they lead you astray from me. Their time has ended.”

Vessel's heart thudded, and he felt his blood go cold, “Please no…no no no no don’t take them from me please. We have done so much together for you and we aren’t finished-“

“It has been decided. Do not try my patience.”

Vessel’s mouth opened, as he silently tried to grasp for words. This was a nightmare, it couldn’t be happening, and yet he could see in Sleep’s eyes that this was his final decision, yet still he couldn’t allow this to happen.

“But have they not also served you well? Have I not served you well? I will do anything, anything just please…not this…punish me instead I beg you. I will accept it with a smile on my face. I won’t complain, I won’t bother you for answers, just…please. Not them…”

“They are distracting you. Do you not comprehend that none will love you as I do? What have I done to receive this spitefulness from you?”

White hot anger boiled up from within him. How could he? Was it not enough that he had bled and been broken over and over and over again to Sleep’s whims? Had he not sacrificed? Had he not given him EVERYTHING? When would it all be enough?

 “They’re my friends…no they are more than that, you can’t do this. Tell me to tear my own heart instead and I will! You cannot demand this of me!”

There was a moment of silence, before the ground began to rumble, the sky turning to blood and the waves to ink. The others scrambled to find each other, huddling next to the First.

Vessel had seen Sleep enraged before. And he was often on the receiving end of it, but he had not seen Wrath such as this before. Every part of him was begging him to throw himself down and plead for mercy, and yet…

He looked over at the others, and saw that as much as they shook as he did, they still stood beside him. Willing to face the punishment of an angry god while still on their feet. So he looked once again upon the face of his savior, his persecutor, and stepped forward to receive whatever would be doled out. 

“I…**I CAN’T**? You Forget your place so easily, I can do as I will. And you are ungrateful, you show no piety, you DOUBT me. I MADE you what you are now! I raised you from the dirt in which you fell pleading for an end to your mortal pain, your trifling qualms, and I raised you to be like a god compared to humanity. And you spit in my face, as a scurrilous viper!”

The Third muttered to the Fourth, “I really wish he’d just kill us and get on with it already.”

The Fourth managed a chuckle, “Whatever happens, I am glad to have met you”, he grabbed the Third’s hand, which seemed to help steady them both for what was to come. 

Before Vessel could respond, Sleep's tendrils were upon him. He knew there was no point in fighting, but he grasped and pulled at them anyways, his hands uselessly sinking into squishy boneless ropes that were as resilient as steel. They wrapped around his body, yanking him off the ground. There was none of the gentleness with which he was first lifted up, he was merely a toy in the hands of a giant angry child. 

The others tried to hold onto him, to keep him there with them, wrapping their arms around his legs and clutching onto his clothing so hard that his robe began to rip, and the Fourth called out, “We can’t, he’s too strong, Vessel will tear apart!”

“Assuming Sleep isn’t just going to do that anyways! Just keep hold of him!”, the Third had a leg and a hold on his belt. A stray thought flitted by hoping that he wouldn’t die without his pants on. He called out to them, “Just let me go, flee and save yourselves!”

It didn’t matter anyways, Sleep made a tug and effortlessly pulled him away from the others, a tendril wrapping around his throat tight like a steel band, more wrapping around his ribs with crushing strength, and with every panicked breath out they only got tighter. He couldn’t even cry out, the tendril around his throat painfully tightening around his windpipe like a noose. He tried to calm down, to remember his breath control, to keep his panic from leading more quickly to his demise. But already he was fading, his heart thudding like ii’s drums in his chest as a gray mist crept into the sides of his vision. All six eyes blinked in an effort to stay awake, but as he looked up into the blazing red eyes of Sleep he knew there would be no return.

But there was a deafening crack, like lightning striking the sea, making  his ears ring, and it echoed throughout the bleeding sky. The tendrils loosened their grip ever so slightly, and it was enough for him to turn his head back to the beach where he saw the Third and the Fourth staring at the Second.

He was at the head of the beach, glaring up at Sleep, eyes blazing with fury and a inner light Vessel had not seen before. His palms held together in front of him, as if he were in mid-clap.

A voice like thunder echoed out from nowhere, vibrating his very teeth with how it boomed throughout the bubble, “Go then back to the Void where you belong, but you will not be taking them. They are no longer yours.”

Vessel was released suddenly, and he crashed onto the beach in a heap. His body was broken, he could feel that much. Pain screamed from all of his nerves like alarm bells. He stared up at the sky, at his deity, as he withdrew and faded as suddenly as he had arrived, without so much as a whisper. The blood turned back to azure, and the ink to lapis. 

He sighed, or tried to, managing only a choked wheeze as the darkness crept in, for the last time ever. And yet he tried to keep his eyes open, hearing the others running along with the waves gently lapping.  It was too late, but they were free. And the last thing he saw were the faces of the others staring wide eyed and frightened as they tried to bring him back to them. 

He thought in his final moments, that he had heard Two’s voice, 

“Help him.”

He gasped and coughed, holding his throat as he sat up. The tendrils were gone, and he took in a deep breath, filling his lungs in relief. It was only after he took several breaths that he looked around himself, finding that he was no longer on the sand but instead on a bed of soft moss and grass. He was in a clearing surrounded by ancient trees, the crowns of which formed an almost perfect circle that let him look up into the clearest night sky he had ever seen. Stars so numerous they resembled the lights of a great city glowed in white, red, yellow, and blue, and were cast against the glowing ribbon of a galaxy. 

Truly, it was a breathtaking sight. But there was something not quite right. The stars weren’t ones he recognized.

A low smoky voice broke his immersion, “Don’t be afraid”.

He turned slowly, cautious, his tall frame slightly hunched. But he paused when he saw her, straightening up and tipping his head, all six eyes focused.

A woman. Tall. Surprisingly tall. Taller even than he. Her skin was like the deepest obsidian flecked with stars, like she was a reflection of the sky above. Horns in the shape of a lyre arched from thick, wavy hair that cascaded down her shoulders. She wore a plain black peplos, which made her skin stand out all the more. Her eyes were of amethyst, and he could see no hint of malice in them. But with his sight he could see behind her a hazy reflection of her true self, a queen of stature winged and radiating a barely restrained power that could only belong to someone on par with Sleep himself…and yet…something about her felt even older. 

He didn’t approach, but neither did he back away, standing his ground even as she started to walk around him, looking him over while he tried to study her at the same time.

“Do you speak?  Or are you perhaps too frightened to do so?”, she said with a slight curve to her lips.

He paused from trying to follow her with his head. Was she teasing him? Who, or what, was she? What did she want with him? Every part of him was tensed, awaiting an attack or some other sort of nonsense. Because what else could possibly happen? The worst possible thing had already occurred so what else could go wrong?

Fuck it, he decided, and then threw his thoughts out onto the wind,

“I am not afraid”

This was a lie.

“I speak when there is something important to say”

This was not a lie. But something Sleep had taught him. Sleep did not speak with a mouth, finding it to be more befitting of mortals while he projected his thought forms. He had no need to speak otherwise. And why should he? He had Vessel to be his Voice, the one to relay his message to the others. 

“Were the Voice. You were The Voice”, a thought at the back of his mind oh so helpfully reminded him. 

He sighed. 

She plucked at his robe, which he now realized was whole and dry again. Not even a wrinkle to be found. Indeed, it was as if everything he was wearing was new again, and he reached up to feel for his mask.

It was still there, and still as attached as ever to him. And it was then he noticed her reaching out towards it.

He flinched away from her hand, recoiling like a rattlesnake without even thinking, teeth bared and body tense as a bowstring. And almost as suddenly as it happened a wave of shame hit him, and he looked away as he swallowed down the ball of dry bitterness that had formed in his throat. 

Her voice was low and gentle, “It doesn’t come off, does it? You have tried before.”

His jaw clenched. He had tried many times in fact. And with each attempt it just seemed to become even more a part of him. The first time, it felt like it would take his skin off with it, and now, well it _was_ his skin. “It…hurts.” He covered his face with his hands. He was human, once. And that was all he knew since he had first put the mask on. But whoever he was before had been erased. He had no idea how old he was, how long Sleep had him as a servant, how many times he had died and come back and died again. Now he was…just this. An empty vessel. And he was overwhelmed with that feeling of emptiness, Sleep’s presence utterly gone from him. He crumpled down to his knees, his head touching the moss like he was a supplicant. 

She knelt down beside him, her hands clasped in her lap, “Are you in pain?”

“I failed Sleep, but worse, I failed them.”

“You sound so certain when you say that. What makes you believe you failed?”

“I should have been stronger, I should have protected them, I should have been more obedient. Then none of this would have happened.”

“But you survived, as did they.”

He thought for a moment, sitting back up again to look at her, “They’re safe?”

She nodded, “They are. And so are you”, she tipped her head again, in a way that vaguely reminded him of an owl, “Can you feel anything while it’s on?”

     “What…do you mean?”

“If you were to face the sky while it was raining, would you feel the drops fall upon you?”

He paused to think on it. When was the last time he felt anything on his face? As much as the mask had become a part of him, did he ever feel the touch of the wind or the rain? Did he feel his own tears burning a trail down his cheeks? He couldn’t remember.

“I…”

“May I?”, she put her hand out, palm upright. Her nails formed short points, but still, there was something about her that felt familiar, that felt safe. As much as his mind was shouting at him that this was all some sort of trick, he decided to take the chance. 

He stared at her, then her hand, then her again, swallowed hard, and then gave a short nod.

She reached out towards his face slowly, making a low soft noise as if she was trying to gentle a wild horse. This time he didn’t flinch or shrink back, keeping still as she gingerly touched the cheek of his mask. Her eyes met his as she began to feel along the filigree-like edge that outlined his jaw, and he gave another tiny nod. She continued to feel along it, like she was memorizing its shape with her fingertips, but she stayed slow and gentle with her movements, especially when she got to the little points that poked past his chin. She went to his forehead next, and tapped a nail on the material, receiving a dull sound in response.

She made a sad sigh, “I cannot remove it, but I can help you another way”

He went to speak but as she once again caressed a fingertip along his cheek he made a soft gasp. He could feel her hand. It was warm, the pad of her finger soft and with just the slightest trace of her nail grazing him. She smiled wide as she watched his reaction, “There you are”. His breath caught in his throat at the peek of fangs behind her lips, visions of blood in the water and the grip of teeth burying in his flesh flickering in from the past in his mind. He blinked those thoughts away, forcing himself to focus on how oddly…tender she was while touching him. The way she looked at him. Not like he was a subject to be examined and flayed open down to his core so that his every memory and thought and failing was exposed to the salt air but, like how the others looked at him. With fondness. Softness. 

“You’re not used to a gentle touch are you? I think you need more of that in your life.”

“Why?”

She gave him a sad look. Though he did not understand why.

“You don’t think you deserve that?”

“I’m…it’s not about deserving-I-just…” 

But it was. He knew it was. But overpowering the fear and despair there was a deep and aching Want.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!”, he nearly yelled it but managed to just barely get a hold of himself, ‘…I want you to keep going, please.” He reached up a shaky hand, covering hers with his own as she cupped his cheek,  “please.”

She grinned again, her fangs almost glowing white against her dark skin. And for a moment he wondered what it would be like to feel them piercing the flesh of his neck, the blood dripping from him like rubies. He felt himself get warm at the thought, but kept quiet, watching her raise her other hand slowly to touch his other cheek. He couldn’t help it, he closed his eyes, feeling such softness soothing his nerves, the heat of her palms sinking into him bone-deep. The tenseness began to drop from his shoulders as her thumbs stroked under his eyes, and he realized when she swept away wetness that he had been crying. 

“Who are you?”, he said it as a plea, desperate to know and no longer bothering with the pretense that he really had any way to fight her off. Not that he wanted to anyways. Her touch awakened something in him, a need so great he would die, he would kill, he would do anything to have it recognized. 

She gave a soft and affectionate sort of smile as she kept petting his face, “You still don’t recognize me? Even after you had called to me so long ago…”

      “I called to you?” 

She got closer, her face mere inches from his, and sang in her smoky voice, near his ear in close to a whisper, “So give me the night, the night, the night…”. She traced a finger over his lower lip, “But even before then, I was listening. When you sought comfort in the darkness, when you looked to the sky and prayed to anyone who would listen, when you sought inspiration in the stars…I heard you.”

“But who-“

“Think a little longer, and you will know my name”

He blinked, his voice shaking as he spoke, “The Greeks called you Nyx…”

She laughed in soft delight, “And some called me Nótt, some called me Ītzpāpālōtl, some called me Nephthys and on and on and on…”

“Are you…like Sleep? You don’t feel the same.”

“Existence is vast. There are things even older than Sleep. Older than bones and mountains and even the stars themselves. No. We are not the same.” 

“But how-“, it clicked just as soon as he was about to ask. The symbols that Two etched into the sand. An ancient language even the gods had forgotten. Primordial sigils of protection that just so happened to look like messy doodles of stars and planets. Two had been calling to her, summoning her, whichever the case, he was the one who had brought her forth. And so it was her-, “You were the one on the beach, the one who sent Sleep away”

“Yes. That was me”, she sat back, taking one of his hands in hers, tracing the lines in his palm with her fingertip, “When Sleep claimed you initially, Two was there with you. But while he didn’t worry for himself, he worried for you. He made sure to keep his research hidden, but he’s very dedicated when he sets his mind to something, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

He nodded, nearly vibrating with Wanting to Know All but allowing her to continue

“And so when he first spoke to me I immediately answered. We made a plan, for Sleep has tossed aside many of his playthings, and the world is littered with those broken by him. I couldn’t stop Sleep entirely by myself, and he couldn’t either, so we made a pact. He would be my vessel. But not in the same way Sleep had you.”

“I never had any idea…”. 

Playthings. That really was how he saw them. And he was just one of many. For as much as Sleep had praised him in the beginning, building up his confidence and faith, it was all just to serve and end. An end which would have shattered him utterly. But somehow Two knew. Two had the foresight that he didn’t. 

“Nor would you. That was intentional. We couldn’t have Sleep’s favorite noticing anything strange was happening. At least not until we knew that Sleep was going to do for certain. When he stopped responding to you, we knew it was time.”

“Did the others know?”

“They suspected something was afoot, and knew more than they led on. But did they know exactly what was happening, and that I was there? No. As much as it pained Two to keep things from you all, it was necessary so that you would have a way out from all of this.”

He placed his head in his hands, “I am such an idiot…why didn’t I realize it would happen. Why did I stay? Why when all the signs were there that we were just puppets in his hands?”

She put a single fingertip under his chin, tilting his head to look up at her, “Your whole life you have wandered the desert in search of sweet rain and your prayers only returned bitter waters. In you there is much pain yes…but oh there is so much love. It’s not your fault that there are those who are drawn to your love only because they wish to use it. Who seek out those who have suffered and are so desperate for any love, any show of kindness, that they lay their traps for you”, she looked at him with soft eyes, and he felt his heart thump faster, “But you knew, deep down you knew you deserved better because you knew already that they deserved better. You just hadn’t made the connection yet. And when you did, you all stood together. In the face of wrath. It was not me that saved you in the end, you saved yourself. You saved them. And that was the key to bring me forth.”

She leaned forward, just to gently kiss his forehead, holding his face between her hands while his tears made trails down his face. He met her eyes anyways, and saw himself reflected in them, “You are not alone. And you are loved. The other vessels love you, and I have loved you for so very very long.”

A little vibration went up his back, a long distant memory. A soft whisper when he felt at his worst, like a breeze that slid over his skin. Words he could not hear but somehow…he didn’t feel quite so alone as he hunched over the keyboard. A heady scent coming from the window…

“I…don’t know what I can give you. I know only to worship…”

“Just be you, and let your love out. Show it to the others. I ask for your heart, but only when you are ready to give it willingly”, she nuzzled his cheek, and he was taken aback by how soft she felt, “I see your pain, and I will carry that burden with you if you wish, when you are ready.”

But it was with a heavy sob, one he could no longer hold back, that he pressed into her arms, clinging to her like a frightened child as all the pain and the grief over wanting so badly to be loved only to be tossed aside poured out of him. He had stuffed it away for so long, several lifetimes worth of trying so hard to mold himself to the expectations of others in the hopes of just a little kindness, and now the dam had finally broken. He heaved shuddering sobs as he crumpled, feeling her hugging his head, one of her delicate hands stroking his back as he grieved his past selves. 

As he finally caught some of his breath back, he loosened his grip slightly, sitting up slowly,

“I apologize.”

“For what?”

“I’m…not entirely sure to be honest.”

“You’re used to apologizing for everything aren’t you?”, she hummed and then booped the end of his nose, “That’s another habit we’ll have to break you out of”.

He felt the spot that she just touched, bemused, “So what happens now?”, he peered around the clearing again, “Is this your home?”

“It’s my Garden. A world between worlds like your beach”, she extended her hand, a luna moth flitting through the trees to land on her knuckles, he watched as she stroked  its wings, ever so gently, “What happens next is up to you. But Two doesn’t need me to hide within him any longer. He should be having a nice nap right now.”

Vessel let out a soft chuckle, “Were you the reason he was imbibing so much red bull?”

She made a face, “Oh no no, if anything I suggested he switch to using a French press but he refused”, she shook her head, but she was smiling, and he couldn’t help but notice that even in the low light of the clearing she seemed to have an inner glow. She took his hand, letting the moth crawl into his palm. As he watched it explore his fingers he asked, “Do you have worshipers?”

“No, at least not in the way most gods do. I do not have a need to be worshiped. My sustenance comes from those who revel and rejoice in the night. That is enough.”

The moth, seemingly satisfied with its explorations, flitted off into the darkness, “Would you want one?”

She hugged her knees to herself as she met his gaze, the corners of her mouth turned up, “Are you asking if I want one, or are you asking permission to worship me?”

He looked back to his empty hands, thinking. He couldn’t remember the last time he had much of a choice in anything. Let alone something like…this. 

She bumped her shoulder softly into him, “Or are you asking for something else?”

He swallowed, feeling the warmth radiate from her and how soft she felt just from the touches she gave him. He wanted…more, “I’m…honestly…wondering what you taste like…”

She shifted, and for a moment he had the frightened thought that he had made her angry, but instead she had turned to look at him, touching his jaw so he would look back at her, “You’re welcome to find out, taste and touch as much as you like”, she nuzzled his cheek, running a finger over his lower lip and playfully whispering, against his ear, “I promise I won’t bite you”.

The corners of his mouth twitched up, “… and what if I-want-you to bite me?”

She laughed, and the sound made his smile go wide. “And what else would you want?”, she slid behind him, sliding her arms around his neck, so she was pressed fully against him, and he found himself giving a little shiver as her breath warmed his skin, the fragrance of night blooming jasmine on her skin, “Would you make me yours?”

“Is that what you really want? You know it would be completely unlike Sleep...”

“I know, that’s why I want it”, he reached up, slowly, to touch her hand, a reassurance, “Control is not what you desire. You wish for something else from me.”

He could feel her breathing against his back, “Only your heart, freely given. Your mind, your friends, everything else is yours alone.”

“Then make me yours, and be mine?”

“Gladly~”

He woke up. The morning light was gray as it crept over the horizon. The ocean's waves calm in the background. He slowly sat up, and he felt a wave of grief wash over him. No. It couldn’t have been a dream. Could it? Another punishment by Sleep? To give him a dream so real only to take it all away at the end wasn’t beyond him. And it wouldn’t be the first time, but to make this would be beyond cruelty. No. He wanted to scream, to howl curses at the sky and the waters and at existence itself. 

 He scrambled to his feet, and sucked in a breath at the sudden ache in his neck, and as he reached up he gingerly stroked over the bite mark that formed a perfect crescent there. The one bite he wouldn’t let her heal. And he realized he could still taste her on his tongue, his back stinging slightly from when her nails raked down his skin, the fingers of her other hand twined with his in the soft moss. 

He huffed a soft laugh, closing his eyes as he turned inward, seeking out her resting place. 

“Are you still there?”, he said in a whisper, his own heartbeat and breathing the only response as he searched his own mind. No. That was wrong. She told him his thoughts would be his own did she not? So why would she take up residence there? No, no. Her throne was elsewhere. And then he felt it, just the slightest stirring, a tiny shift in movement while in a deep sleep. There. Coiled around his heart protectively, she rested quietly. He pressed his hand over his heart, but a distant shout made his eyes open again. He turned, finding Three, Four, and Two running towards him. He was about to speak when he was full on tackled by Three, falling back with a grunt and immediately barraged with questions,

“WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD FOR GOOD”

“WHERE DID YOU GO?”

“TWO HAS BEEN SLEEPING FOR HOURS”

“ARE YOU HURT YOU’RE GRIMACING”

“That’s because when you threw yourself at him he landed on a piece of driftwood you tit”, Four was laughing but mercifully helped Vessel back up into sitting position, settling into the sand next to him, “You alright then?”

“I think so”, he found the piece of broken driftwood behind him and tossed it aside, “What did I miss?”

“We thought you were dying and then you just…vanished.”

“We’ve seen you die before but, not like this”

  “And you always come back but-“, they exchanged looks and then Four gestured with his head to Two,  who had plonked himself down opposite of Vessel, a beatific glint in his eyes. “He kept saying you’d be back, before passing right out.”

Vessel huffed a laugh, “No wonder, he had been keeping a pretty heavy secret under wraps for a long time”, but he reached out and took Two’s hands in his, before kissing them like he was royalty, “Thank you. You saved all of us.”

Two shrugged, “Well I couldn’t very well lose all of you could I? Besides-“, he flung his arms around Vessel, tackling him back into the sand, causing him to make a grunt that was less substantial that the one Three had him make but still one that he knew he would be feeling later, “We have so much more to do and to see!”

The other two had the temerity to flop down on him as well, so he was fully trapped, “Am I EVER going to be allowed to get back up?”

Four rested his head against Vessel’s chest, “You’re going to have to get used to this. You’re stuck with us I’m afraid.”

Three rumbled on the other side, “Maybe in an hour or so we’ll let you up for tea. But only that. And to tell us where the hell you’ve been off to disappearing without leaving a note and all”

“You came back just in time, look, the sun is rising”, Two pointed towards the horizon, and Vessel was just only able to lift his head to look, 

“So it is…but I wonder what the night will bring.”

#sleep token #no directors cut for tumblr sorry #only for friends #because Reasons #thank you teka and zai for the encouragement #Sleep is a big meanie in this one #Vessel #II #III #IV #I JUST REALLY WANT VESSEL TO HAVE A HAPPILY EVER AFTER YANNO? #sleep token fic #SleepToken #vessel sleep token #Sleep Token band #mywriting #sleep token fanfiction #Full version of ao3

[mutatiio]

FIVE SONGS for your muse.

i. take a bow by muse : you'll burn in hell / yeah you'll burn in hell for your sins / and our freedom's consuming itself / what we become is contrary to what we want / take a bow / death / you bring death / and destruction to all that you touch

ii. breaking the habit by linkin park : i don't know what's worth fighting for / or why i have to scream / i don't know why i instigate / and say what i don't mean / i don't know how i got this way / i know it's not alright / so, i'm breaking the habit / i'm breaking the habit tonight

iii. the bomb by florence & the machine : i've blown apart my life for you / and bodies hit the floor for you / and break me, shake me, devastate mе / come here, baby, tell me that i'm wrong

iv. back against the wall by cage the elephant : you've got my back against the wall / oh god, i ain't got no other place to hide / chained down, like a sitting duck just waiting for the fall / you know, yeah / you've got my back against the wall

v. afraid of heights by boygenius : i know that i fucked up when i / told you i'm afraid of heights / it made you wanna test my courage / you made me climb a cliff at night / you wanted me to jump and i declined / you called me a coward, i replied / i don't wanna live forever, but i don't wanna die tonight / when the black water ate you up / like a sugar cube in a teacup / i got the point you were makin' / when i held my breath 'til you came up

FIVE QUOTES for your muse.

i. that is the kind of fear that lives inside anakin skywalker: the dragon of that dead star. it is an ancient, cold dead voice within his heart that whispers all things die. . . – matthew stover, revenge of the sith

ii. anakin matched his stare. perhaps i’ll take yours. his own voice, inside his head, had a hot black fire that smoked from the depths of his furnace heart. you think you can stop me from saving my love? you think you can make me watch her die? go ahead and vaapad this, you--

“anakin,” obi-wan said softly. he gestured to an empty seat beside him. “please.”

and something in obi-wan’s gentle voice, in his simple, straightforward request, sent his anger slinking off ashamed, and anakin found himself alone on the carpet in the middle of the jedi council, blinking. – matthew stover, revenge of the sith

iii. “take it from me. please, master.” anakin wanted to fall to his knees. a deep tide of feeling, of dread, had risen up within him and choked him. he felt tears in the back of his throat. even his friend tru was afraid for him. just as ferus was. just as his own master was, the person who knew him the best. – jude watson, the moment of truth

iv. it matters little how small i am in the pool of another’s eye. it’s awe or indifference i crave. i want to be seen clearly or not at all. – ama codjoe, the bluest nude

v. a thousand emotions have swept through me to-night. i don’t comprehend half of them. – kate chopin, the awakening

tagged by: @debelltio tagging: @mayxthexforce ( obi-wan!! ) / @alootus / @jeditrash / @iniqutous / @misfittcd ( qui-gon ) / @rottingkiss ( misa )

#⸢ dash game ⤑ anakin ⸥ unapproved mission. #afraid of heights is specifically obi-wan @ anakin. #it makes me Emotional so it's here. #anakin hissing and growling at mace had to be here. he literally had me with my head in my hands on my walk.

[valeffelees]

@youarenevertooold OMG HEY, YEAH, you may absoLUTELY see the potato frittata scene. 😄🖤 ok so, this comes from a zero draft of mine called The Malaise of Jealous Men and it is one of my absolute favourites, the writing is kind of rough 'cause again: zero draft, and the actual plot of this fic is a lot to explain, but the need-to-know leading up to this scene is just that at the beginning of eighth year Simon and Niall get assigned a project together and end up inadvertently becoming friends.

"Who was that?" "My sister." "You have a sister?" The corners of Niall's eyes crease—brown today, natural. Large and dark on his face, honeyed at the edges by the lights in the dining hall. "I have a twin, Simon." "You what?" "We're not close," he says, flapping his hand. Dismissive. Like Niall not being close to his sister explains how Simon could've missed the fact that this boy he's known for almost seven years has a twin he didn't know about. Simon asks, "Does she avoid you or something?” Then realises how shit that sounds and adds, “I mean, just. You know.” He shrugs. “I never see her in class with us." Niall pulls his wand from his sleeve and spells away the mess on the table. An ice-cold breeze bites through the room with it, the smell of salt and cold water, river weeds, ocean air. "We pick our schedules accordingly,” he says. “Signe was in all our first year classes with us but you were prob'ly too busy trying to tie Basil's shoelaces together to notice." Simon folds his arms. "We aren’t that bad." Niall quirks both of his eyebrows up. "I mean,” Simon says, “not first year." "You sure as shit were," he snorts, and his smile is back. Long and narrow, sharp enough to cut glass. "First year was the worst—no, wait. I take that back. Fifth was fucking awful. You’re a loon, by the way." "Oh fuck off, mate, Baz is the one who—" Dev slams his tray down on the table. An apple bounces off the corner. It rolls forward, slowly. Bumps up against the side of Simon’s teacup, then sits and wobbles there for what feels like an impossibly (and, frankly, unnecessarily) long time before Niall reaches over and sets his hand on it. His fingers curl a ghostly shade of pink around all that bright green skin. Simon lifts his gaze, moving joint by joint from Niall’s wrist to his elbow, from his elbow to his shoulder, from his shoulder to his face. He’s grinning at Dev like a cobra, that razor-blade mouth of his turned downright feral. “Oi,” he chirps. “Fuckin’ cat drag you in or what?” Dev doesn’t look like Baz much. They’re cousins—or, Simon’s pretty sure they’re cousins. Cousin-adjacent, maybe. Probably something stupid like fourth cousins twice removed with two sugar and chips on the side or however the fuck families work when you’re rich and posh. But where Baz is all sharp and tall and cold, Dev is... just, not. He looks like Baz with a tablespoon of honey and splash of milk stirred in. Short and bird-like, warm. His hair is a dark shock of feathery brown and his skin is the deep, blushless golden tone of a dry grassland. He’s glaring across the table at Simon from beneath heavy, black eyebrows like he wants to shove him down a flight of stairs. (That might be the one thing he and Baz do have in common.) "Hi," Simon says, awkwardly. Dev sneers. (Make that two things.) "Look," he hisses, pulling out his chair. He sits with his elbows spread to the sides of his tray, leaning forward on them, "this is weird and I hate it, but I'm not sitting across the dining hall alone while you two cunts cuddle up over fucking tea and biscuits or whatever the fuck this is, so let's just skip the part where we make a big deal out of it." Simon looks down at his plate with a confused frown. “This is potato frittata.” Dev’s face does something funny. Twists a bit, like he's in pain. Or smells something rotten. Or like he's in pain while smelling something rotten. He says, “Niall.” “Well,” Niall replies, and takes a loud, crisp bite of Dev’s apple, “he’s not wrong.” “Niall.” “Are there biscuits?” Simon asks, glancing over at the serving station. He stands up. “I didn’t see any biscuits.” Niall nudges his shin under the table. “Sit,” he says. “There ‘re no biscuits.” Simon does. “Niall!” “He does this sometimes,” Niall tells him. “Just give 'im a sec, he'll get over it.”

#me [slamming my niall simon and dev dolls together]: THEY'RE FRIENDS THEY'RE FRIENDS THEY'RE FRIENDS! :D #valen and the void