#my goal here is for someone who’s birthday it is to see this and be like: :D that’s me!

[braisedhoney]

this one goes out to everyone who has… uh. a birthday. just in general. 

[triflesandparsnips]

So I understand that there are Good Omens show fans who have never read Good Omens the book, and that makes me deeply sad because--

Like, there's so much depth to the story being told about humans and humanity and the choice between good and evil -- and how that's actually a false dichotomy whoooops -- WHILE ALSO not really being about Aziraphale and Crowley at all (who are, imo, basically there as embodiments of "Impressive Failures" for the purposes of Theme and also Plot).

BUT IF you want to know why I've shipped them since the book-- here's the moment it happened for wee teenage me:

Wednesday (before the end of the world)

So it's Warlock's birthday party. And there are all these children and security guards and also an angel doing magic tricks while a demon is disguised as a caterer. This bit is basically the same as the show, so hooray.

But as wee me understood the characters up to this point, they were still basically enemies who had been in the field together for way too long and knew each other's moves well enough for the same tempting/thwarting of one another to become kind of boring and repetitive and generally pointless-- particularly once they realized that they could, for instance, just live their (separate!) lives watching humans being weird (Crowley) and seeking various sensory stuff (Aziraphale) while doing the least work necessary to keep their respective bosses off their backs.

The Arrangement was borne not out of hiding a friendship or anything, but instead the realization that sometimes covering for one another would just... cut down on their total overall workload. They were, at best, employees of two different, competitive companies-- though in same kind of department, doing the same kind of work-- who discovered they liked to have lunch at the same deli and that their jobs were sometimes distressingly more similar than either was comfortable with.

SO ANYWAY. BACK TO THAT WEDNESDAY. They're not covering for one another with this whole Antichrist thing-- they're now actively collaborating, and they've acknowledged (mostly) that it's not to cut down on their individual workloads, but rather to preserve their identical-- but not shared (not yet)-- goals of Getting To Continue The Lives On Earth They've Grown To Enjoy.

But like-- still not friends. Not really.

Until Aziraphale fucks up a bit, Warlock accidentally gets hold of a security guard's weapon and starts waving it around, and:

Then someone threw some jelly at Warlock. The boy squeaked, and pulled the trigger of the gun. It was a Magnum .32, CIA issue, gray, mean, heavy, capable of blowing a man away at thirty paces, and leaving nothing more than a red mist, a ghastly mess, and a certain amount of paperwork. Aziraphale blinked. A thin stream of water squirted from the nozzle and soaked Crowley, who had been looking out the window, trying to see if there was a huge black dog in the garden. Aziraphale looked embarrassed. Then a cream cake hit him in the face.

My teenage brain exploded at this moment.

BECAUSE: there is no reason for Aziraphale to do that.

Work-wise: If he got shot, Crowley would get discorporated, but not die-- and anyway, it would happen in such a way that both of them could explain it away easily to their respective sides (and possibly even be commended for it!).

Collaboration-wise: If Crowley had been watching Aziraphale, and if he'd seen Aziraphale have the chance to change the gun but not do it-- then yeah, probably that would've been annoying enough to have warranted some chilly conversations once he came back topside, and therefore, Aziraphale choosing to save Crowley could've been a reasonable, logical choice to keep their working relationship on an even keel until they'd sorted out this Doomsday thing.

But Crowley was looking the other way.

Work-wise, it doesn't make sense-- and secret-collaboration-wise, it doesn't make sense-- and so it is, overall, really weird that Aziraphale saved him.

But his automatic reaction-- in a blink-- is to stop Crowley from getting shot. And he knows it's weird-- he feels embarrassed that his sudden, unthinking reaction is to save his "enemy".

And the final bit is just a couple paragraphs later:

With a gesture, Aziraphale turned the rest of the guns into water pistols as well, and walked out.

SO LOOK: He changed only the pistol about to shoot Crowley. His automatic reaction had nothing to do with saving a party full of humans, many of them children-- nothing to do with Heaven or Hell-- nothing to do with preserving the coworker he needs to stop Armageddon--

It was all to do with saving Crowley. Who may be the enemy, but he's Aziraphale's enemy. And another part of his life on Earth that he's doing all of this just to preserve.

Which may also be, for the first time, the moment he lets himself realize how important Crowley in particular is to him.

...and so anyway, that's how I started shipping these two immortal idiots, and one of many reasons why everyone should read the book.

[kisses4kaia]

god college!luke makes my emotions go haywire 😡😩 i’d honestly start dating someone else to spite him

you know what anon. ima need you to claim an emoji bc ur thoughts are TOO GOOD (also thank u sm for 1.5k💋)

so we’ve discussed previously that luke castellan does not get jealous easily.

however.

he never thought you would go this far. sure, you had danced on other guys at parties to get a rise out of him, maybe flirted here and there in front of him, but never this.

getting into a relationship—a serious relationship—with his frat brother? that was a new low. so what if he’d purposefully lead other girls into gross bathrooms at bar outings so you would see? this was uncalled for. how dare you?

so naturally, at your new boyfriend’s birthday party, when you’re sitting on his lap, helping him unwrap your present of a jean-paul gaultier cologne he’d wanted, luke—in classic luke fashion—thought this would be his chance. your sorority sister, drunk off of her wits—bless her heart—came up to you and whispered some slurred imperative about how you needed to get to ‘the square’.

your eyebrows furrowed at her as her eyebrows raised, questioning the significance of ‘the square’ and why the man who prompted her to ask chose there. you said no words, excusing yourself after finding her a water and alka seltzer.

“you really couldn’t help yourself, huh?” are the first words you say to luke, button up shirt open and lying on his back on the false grass. “me? you’re one to talk, sweetheart,” you rolled your eyes at his use of the nickname, crossing your arms as you stand over him.

beneath the twilight, your exposed shoulder skin glistened like the moon, just a sliver of it visible in the northern night sky. luke had obviously had something to drink or smoke, or both, because he slurred his words as he patted the turf next to him. “sit down. c’mon, like the good ol’ days,”

‘the square’ was a small patch of land in the middle area between his frat’s and your sorority’s backyards. it was insignificant to most everybody else, but you and luke had claimed it as yours on drizzly nights like these, when the owl called and adolescence snored. it didn’t even hold sexual reminiscences, for each night you spent on the square was spent just talking. he would gloat about some things he did over the summer, interrogate you on your sex life, laugh at your offense and crack bad jokes. he was the worst person to spend valuable time with, but you returned every night, nonetheless.

“i’m surprised, castellan. been here a full sixty seconds and you haven’t tried to fuck me,” you remained standing over his lax body, crossing your arms over your chest. “do you want me to try to fuck you? because i’m down,” he looks up at you with that smile of his. that toothy, million dollar, smile that reassures whomever it is on the receiving end that everything is okay and there’s not a thing to worry about.

you snort, giving in and sitting down. luke pulls you into his lap before your butt can even hit the cool grass, eliciting a yelp from you. his lips press against your shoulder, strong, warm arms wrap around your waist and you can’t help but melt into the body beneath you. “luke,” your voice is meant to be a warning, supposed to remind him and yourself that you belong to another and this was not right, but he did nothing except for hold you tighter and smile against your skin.

“he doesn’t make you feel like i do.” he spoke the words out of your mind, the voice of truth you swallowed down with a knowing conscience that it would rise to the surface eventually. this wasn’t what you wanted. your single goal wasn’t to make luke jealous, it wasn’t even to show him what he was missing. you just wanted it to be different. you wanted somebody to take you seriously enough to call you theirs.

but anybody who did wasn’t him.

“luke,” this time, you weren’t trying to ward off anything. this time, you were welcoming him and all his invasive, rude, luke-like, traits and the pain you knew would come with letting him in once more. “i know, baby, i know.” he said no further words before flipping the pair of you over and letting your back onto the ground. you focused on none else other than the feeling of his lips finally landing on yours, the trace of his fingers across your denim skirt’s hem. “can i?” luke’s fingers dipped past the fabric, drawing swirls on your skin. “mhm, yeah,” your smile is audible and spreads to luke’s lips.

if there was one thing luke always did, it was worship you. this time was no different. his lips were everywhere, and when they weren’t pecking kisses all over you, he was breathing praises like you were a mortal saint against your skin. and when he entered you, he fucked you like he couldn’t believe he got the chance to feel you again. but he knew what the outcome of this would be; of course he did.

you didn’t know him as a particularly selfish lover, but the way he chased his high, rutting his hips against yours to the point of overwhelmed stuttering suggested that to be true.

and when it was all said and done and the past hung in the air like a wonder of the world, luke stood and looked down at you like you previously did him.

“break up with him.”

“why?”

“you know why.”

there was no denying that, so you did none else than nod.

“yeah. i do.”

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter One

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, alcohol

Chapter summary: Y/N meets Bob's squadron, and encounters someone she thought she'd never see again; the Daggers celebrate Jake's birthday where he and Y/N have their first conversation after the one night stand

Masterlist here

You were late. Bob was going to kill you. Your brother was a stickler when it came to being on time. It came as no surprise to anyone in your family that he had gone into the military.

You rushed through the door, purse strap getting caught on the handle and you tugged it free, chest rising as you spun around, searching for Bob. He stood in the corner of the coffee shop, pristine in a khaki uniform, eyes wide behind his wire glasses. 

“Hi Ducky,” he said as you tossed yourself into his arms, breathing in his familiar scent. He felt like home, even though it had been years since you and Bob had lived under the same roof. You had been barely a teen when Bob left for the Naval Academy, and his stints on land were far and few between after. His assignment to Top Gun was the first time he had settled somewhere on a more permanent basis. It’s why you decided to move to San Diego after college. All of your friends had scattered around the country – grad school in New York, policy analysts in Washington, even one friend had taken an internship with an art dealer in Miami. But you had packed up and left Tennessee with one goal. Be closer to your brother. 

“Bobby,” you grinned, stepping back to admire him. Every time you saw him it was months apart and so much had changed, but also so little. He was the same Bob who had thrown you over his shoulder to win the family flag football game on Thanksgiving. The same Bob who had carried your book bag for you when you were in elementary school and he was a middle schooler and went a mile out of his way every morning to make sure you got to your homeroom class safe and sound. The Bob who always picked up, day or night, when you called. The Bob who listened to you weep about your college boyfriend who broke your heart. The Bob who took care of you when you were seven and had the flu and your mom was working a double shift at the hospital and couldn’t stay home with you. 

“Ducky,” he said, dropping your hands. The familiar nickname on his tongue brought forward a flood of memories: spring weekends flying kites in the nearby park, sitting on the back of a tandem bike with Bob on a trip to Florida to visit your grandparents, the fort the two of you made the one time it snowed two feet in Tennessee in under a day in March. “This is my squad. Guys, meet my sister, Y/N.” 

You tore your gaze from Bob, looking over at the table he was gesturing to, a smile plastered on your face. A beautiful brunette with pearly white teeth and a tight bun was on the far left. That was Phoenix. You had received a handful of letters from Bob talking about her. Next to Phoenix was a handsome, bulky man with a mustache in a plain blue t-shirt. Wow, he was gorgeous. 

Your eyes shifted over one more, breath halting in your throat as your gaze slowly crept up. First you spotted the dog tags. Eerily familiar, but then again, a lot of military guys wore dog tags, right? 

Then the chin. Ridiculously cut jaw, slight bifurcated butt chin that you had found weirdly adorable two nights before. Plump, pink lips, puckered up in a grin. You felt your heart sink. There was only one thing left. You raised your eyes to his. Clear, seafoam green. An ocean in two small orbs. He smiled as you screamed internally. 

Bob’s voice drew you out of your coma. “That’s Bradley.” The mustache man waved a hand. “And Jake Seresin. Hangman.” 

Jake. Your stomach did a somersault. 

Last time you had seen him, you had been teetering on the edge of drunk, standing outside of the bar with one hand on the railing, the salty ocean wind licking at the sweat on your collarbone, flicking the ends of your hair up against your chin.

The next moment, his tongue was on your throat, in your mouth, fingers in your hair, pressing your body against the railing of the deck as you whimpered into his lips. 

You had crept out of bed before he woke up. Just a gorgeous, tan, muscular back sticking out beneath crisp white sheets as you tugged on your short dress and called an Uber. You had expected to never see him again. 

And here he was, smirking at you as your brother’s gaze narrowed. 

You had fucked up. Correction. You had fucked Jake Seresin. And that was a major fuck up. 

***

Bob had never been the type to have a huge friend group, or any close friends really. So the first time he called from Top Gun, giddy with excitement, you had been elated for him. Your brother deserved a tightly knit friend group.

Before you had moved to San Diego, Bob had filled you in on the group’s antics. Their flights, their wild nights out, the dynamics. But he had centered mostly on Phoenix and Rooster. 

Jake had conveniently been left out of the majority of the conversation. 

“Well?” Bob asked as the two of you headed back to his house in your rental car. “What do you think of the group?” 

“They’re nice,” you said. 

“That’s it? Nice?” 

You sighed. “I’m really happy for you, Bobby. You have a good group of friends. I know that’s what you always wanted.” 

Bob leaned back against the seat. You were the one person that Bob confided in. He was an open book and you could read him with one glance. Looking over, you spotted his furrowed brow, the tense way he was squeezing his knuckles together. 

“Are you OK?” you asked, turning your eyes back toward the road, slowing down to take a right turn. 

“Tell me you didn’t move here for me.” 

“Then I’d be lying.” 

“Y/N,” Bob said. His voice had taken on Big Brother™ mode. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t you want me around?” you whispered. 

“Of course I do,” Bob replied. “I just don’t want you to waste your life following me.” 

“Living in California a waste?” you asked. “No way.” 

“What’s the plan, Duck?” 

“Not everyone was born potty trained and with a plan, Bobby.” 

“You’re twenty-three,” he countered. “It’s time to be an adult and figure out what you’re doing with your life.” 

“You sound like mom.” 

“And we both know she’s never wrong.” 

You sighed. “Just because you got your life together at seven doesn’t mean I have to.” 

“Duck—” 

You cut him off. “Bobby, please. It’s been a week. Give me a little time and I promise, I'll figure out what I’m doing. Just be my brother, OK, instead of acting like my dad.” 

That silenced him. Bob had taken your father’s disappearance harder than you had. He put on a brave face. He stepped up. He became the man of the house. But that meant that he had taken it upon himself to be your brother and your dad. So even at twenty three he still saw you as a child. 

The two of you drove the rest of the way back to Bob’s house in silence. Inside, you were just about to close the door to your guest bedroom when Bob’s voice floated down the hall. 

“By the way,” he said, “I told the squad we’d go out for drinks with them tonight. It’s Jake’s birthday.” 

You grimaced. “Sounds good.” 

“Leave at nine?” 

“Sure.” You closed the door, plopping down on the bed face first. You had moved to San Diego to figure your life out. And of course the first thing you had done was have a one night stand with one of Bob’s teammates. If he had been anyone else in the world you would have been able to avoid him. 

What do you get someone for their birthday when you hoped you’d never see them again? 

***

“Floyd!” 

You turned at the same time as Bob. Bradley grinned. “Oh this is going to get confusing.” 

“Here.” Natasha pointed to the bar stool next to her. “Have a seat. Boys will get you a drink. Bradshaw?” 

Bradley tipped his head. “On it, ma’am.” 

She rolled her eyes as you settled into the seat, crossing your legs beneath the short skirt. “So, Y/N. Bob’s told me all about his little sister. But he left out that you were coming to live here.” 

“I’m not much of a planner.” 

Phoenix laughed. “The anti-Bob. I like you already.” 

“He’s told me a lot about you,” you replied. “And Bradley.” 

“And nothing about Jake I’m guessing?” You nodded and Phoenix took a sip of her beer. “Trust me when I say, you don’t want to even go there.” 

“Are you speaking from experience?” 

Phoenix craned her neck around, making sure the two of you were out of earshot before nodding. “Just steer clear of him. That’s my suggestion. Hangman is fun for a night. But things get messy quick. And he and Bob have a little bit of a history.” 

You frowned. “What kind of history?” 

Just as Phoenix opened her mouth to respond, Bradley pressed a beer into your open hand. “Ducky.” 

You grimaced. “Bobby, you didn’t!” 

He shrugged. “Sorry.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m so going to eat your last Pop-Tart tomorrow just to get you back for that.” 

“Fill us in, will you?” Phoenix asked. 

“When she was four, Y/N became obsessed with those little yellow rubber ducks that you put in your bath.” You groaned as your brother recounted the full story. How you had thrown a fit when your mother had tried to take you out of the bath and the only thing to calm you had been to fill your bed with the rubber ducks. And how the next morning that continued, one rubber duck gripped firmly in your chubby hand as you ate breakfast, went to the park, tagged along to the grocery store, went to daycare. This continued for weeks. 

You didn’t want to admit to the team that you still had a rubber duck stuffed inside your suitcase back at Bob’s house. It was a safety net of sorts. 

“Sorry, Duck,” Bob said, squeezing your shoulders and placing a small peck on the top of your head. 

You looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed, he had a massive grin on his face. He was happy. All you had wanted in as long as you could remember was for Bob to be happy. He took your happiness more seriously than his own. It was time you returned the favor. 

“Am I interrupting?” All eyes turned to Jake. He had on a tight black t-shirt and a pair of jeans with cowboy boots peeking out the bottom. He shot a grin your way and you did your best to avoid his eye contact. 

“Happy birthday, Hangman.” There was a chill in Bob’s voice, or perhaps you were reading into it because of what Phoenix had said earlier. 

Jake nodded. “Thanks, man. Anyone up for a game of darts?” 

Bob dropped his hand from your shoulder, following Phoenix and Jake back toward the darts board on one end of the bar. You sat back in your seat, tipping the beer down your throat, watching as they played. There was an easy banter with all of them. 

You finished your beer, the darts game still ongoing. Quietly, you slipped around the edge of the room, out the door that led to the back deck. 

It was quiet outside, just the sound of the waves crashing against the hard sand and the soft hum of the music as it seeped through under the door and from behind the old windows. You laid your fingertips on the wooden railing, tipping your head back toward the moon that was slung low in the sky, feeling the cool breeze dry the sweat that had started to form on the base of your neck. 

“Mind if I join?” 

You turned. Jake stepped out onto the deck, a beer in one hand. He approached the railing, putting the green bottle down and smirking over at you. This time you were far less drunk. You shrugged. “It’s your birthday. Who am I to say what you can or can’t do?” 

He frowned. “Don’t be like that.” 

“Just because you’ve seen me naked doesn’t mean you know me.” 

He looked bristled. “Y/N. I had no idea you were Bob’s sister when we met the other night. If I had known, I—”

“Wouldn’t have fucked me?” 

He grimaced. “You’re the one that left without saying anything.” 

You folded your arms over your chest. “It’s not like you were falling over yourself to drive me home. It was better that way and we both know it.” You allowed yourself to look up. God, he was stunning. Green, wide eyes. Tanned skin, the way his forearm flexed as he gripped the railing. You could remember the way his touch felt as he dragged his fingertips over your skin. You tried to shake the memory from your mind. “Just do me one favor.” 

“Sure.” 

“Don’t tell Bob,” you whispered. “Let’s just forget the other night ever happened.” 

Jake’s gaze lingered. “If that’s what you want.” 

You pushed up off of the railing. “It’ll be better, trust me.” You headed for the door, turning around at the last moment. Jake was still leaning against the railing, watching the waves in the dark. “Jake?” 

He turned, green eyes wide. There was something almost sad about him, you thought. It was a fleeting glimpse, but you saw it. 

“Happy birthday.” 

He smiled. You turned, peering through the glass on the wood door. Bob had his head thrown back in a laugh as Bradley pounded against the piano keys and Phoenix danced. You smiled. Your brother was happy. 

You weren’t going to ruin his perfectly crafted life by saying you had slept with one of his friends. It would be easier for everyone if you and Jake Seresin pretended you had never met before. 

How would they ever catch you in your lie? 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @mandylove1000 @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me  @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @shanimallina87 @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @yanna-banana @bbyvanessaa  @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @joaquinwhorres @boiolay @sometimesanalice @spinning-away

[abibliophobiaa]

Velvet

my skin in your teeth

summary: you’re meant to eliminate creatures from the upside down, but something — or someone — has got a hold on you lately…

warnings: 18+, blood drinking, biting, allusions to sex, smut, maybe a bit of obsessiveness, and hint of implied soulmates. to be honest, i don’t really know what this is. just wanted to write something. also thanks @myosotisa and @blueywrites for the additional vampire inspiration. 🤍

vampire!eddie munson x f!monster hunter!reader

Chance and Andy cackle ahead of you, their feet rustling the leaves littering the grass, guns at the ready. Normally you’re on duty with Steve, Nancy and Robin, but the powers at be today have decided to put you together with the biggest assholes of the bunch. Cocky, rude, still bullies despite everything — and yet, some of the best shots in the Upside Down Elimination Team. You suppose there’s some comfort in that. Should things go awry.

Your one goal on today’s mission? Make sure the perimeter of area four is safe. Fortunately for you, it’s been a quiet night. For the guys? They’re not having fun with it. For two trigger happy individuals, an eerily quiet night is an oddity. During your last overnight shift, you, Nancy, Robin, and Steve had managed to take down at least fifty demobats that had come through the gate, along with a fully mature group of demodogs.

The hours tick by. Nothing out of the usual to see. A flicker of movement from a solitary demobat with an injured bat here, rustle of leaves there. But nothing major to note when you return to base once the sun rises and your shift ends.

That is, nothing until three in the morning arrives and you catch the familiar whistle. The crack of a twig in the distance. The rustle of leaves as they draw nearer. A pack of demodogs rush through trees, but the familiar glint of predatory canines draws your attention.

You draw your dagger and throw. The metal slams into the trunk with a loud thud and you shout over your shoulder, “You go on ahead, I’ll take care of this!”

The guys run along, practically bouncing in their steps at the mere prospect of taking down a pack of demodogs on their own. Giddy with it. But your mind? Your mind is drawn to the darkened silhouette in the woods, the one that, given the chance, Andy and Chance would rip apart bit by bit.

And you can’t allow that, because Eddie Munson is yours.

——

It was forbidden; fraternizing with the Upside Down.

Even more so slipping away in the middle of the night to entertain a dalliance with a creature harbored and hemmed in the place where the world had ripped into quadrants.

No one understood how it happened. You’d all seen him die. Had seen what happened when a man was ripped apart by those winged hellions. And yet he’d appeared one night, trembling and starved. A hunger that you’d managed to quench, despite Steve shouting at you otherwise, by slicing your own palm and offering it to your friend.

The friend who peered out from those darkened eyes, lines of deep hunger like spiderwebs crawling from beneath his lashes. You whispered that it was okay, that you wanted this when he stared up at you with worried eyes.

Don’t want to hurt you, he said, sounding so much younger than his now twenty-one years of age. Or twenty? None of you understood this magic. He died at twenty, heart stopped at twenty — but months had trickled by, his birthday passed, and it only felt right to honor it all the same.

Shaking hands had curled around the back of your palm, his lips sliding over wet, injured skin, dripping scarlet rubies onto the forest floor below. Steve whirled around, choked out a horrified breath as Eddie drew in your blood, drew in your essence.

Loud, hungry gulps met your ears, making Steve retch. But you leaned in closer, curled your fingers around his bicep, clinging to him as you slipped away in your mind.

Into that heady, rich, velvety, lush ether.

“Eddie,” Robin warned, as your eyelids drooped, body slumping further into his frame, “Eddie, I think she’s done. Let go of her.”

He fell back, ragged breaths pulling from lungs. And he sounded so familiar, you nearly weeped at it. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, sweetheart —”

Those eyes shifted, changed back into the ones you knew before all of…this. Less haunted, more him, and despite the world tilting on its axis as you fell back into Steve’s arms unconscious, it seemed worth it.

You carried on with it in secret. Your friends decided it was better if, until things got better around Hawkins, Eddie remained nothing more than a shadow in the night. They’d find a way to make things right, but in the meantime…you learned how to keep things secret. How to slip away beyond the outer lines of Hawkins — to find ways to sneak off during patrols. Often, Steve would turn a blind eye. Nancy would wave you onward. Robin would give you a little eye roll and tell you to run along.

It started with conversations in the night. Things you never talked about when you’d known one another prior. And yet — since the day he’d drank your blood, you felt a connection to him in a way you hadn’t before. You would sit side by side, laughing and reminiscing. Dreaming, on nights where the world was quiet and it felt like you were the only two people who existed.

Those meetings changed as the seasons did. His gazes lingered longer. Your hands wandered. His lips glided over yours. Your fingers threaded in his hair. He fisted the back of your thigh and dragged you into his lap, whispered he wanted you against your throat.

That first time had been quick and needy. A frantic thing, with buttons flying, his shirt nearly shredded at the hem to get it off faster. He rolled you over onto your back and pinned you there against the dirt, the ground biting into your flesh, reminding you that you were alive despite it all. And you kissed him, panting into his mouth as his hips rolled furiously against your own, your fingers clutching at blades of grass, nearly ripping them up from the root as your orgasm stole your breath.

It kept on like that for months. Secret meetings, whispered words. His teeth in your skin, your bodies entwined, heart to heart, chasing whatever this thing was between you.

He was euphoria and light in a world filled with darkness, and you were addicted, and nothing would rip him away again.

——

The sounds of the guy’s hoots and hollers of enjoyment over their hunt grows quieter as you approach Eddie. He’s leaning against a tree, the dagger embedded near his shoulder, those dark eyes of his crinkling at the corners as you draw nearer to him. Lips curl back over elongated canines, and you note the swirling lines beneath his lashes, deciding you’ll have to do something about that later when you have more time and there’s no threat of the jackass twins coming back and throwing a wrench into things.

“Sorry I tried to kill you,” you tease, falling into his chest as broad palms slide around your hips to tug you close, “needed to make it look believable.”

“It’s fine, but next time you should try harder.” He draws a sigh from deep within your chest as he leans in to claim your mouth. It’s a quick kiss, doesn’t linger long, his head pulling back to look at you in amusement. Mouth curling into a grin, hair in disarray, dark eyes gleeful in the night. “Didn’t know you could throw a dagger like that.”

“You liked that, huh? Been working on that for months now.”

Your smirk grows as he flips you around, your back hitting the trunk of the tree. He grunts out as you coast a palm along the front of his jeans, grinning ruefully at the way his erection strains against the fabric.

“You did.” A satisfied smile creeps up along your features, heart skipping as he grips the dagger hilt near your head and tugs it free from the bark. The metal glints, the sharpened edge twirling as he toys with it in his palm. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, him playing with your weapon, but the way he’s so leisurely about it — like he’s maybe done this before…knowing how good he is with his hands because you’ve been a very satisfied benefactor of their skills many a time now —

“You okay there? You forget I can hear your heart racing.”

He drags the dagger along the hollow of your throat, the standard issue button up uniform loose there, and then lower still toward the first button. He flicks his wrist and a button clatters against the ground, moves down a few centimeters and does the same to the next, the next, the next.

The knife follows. Falls into a pile of leaves, rustles them. There’s a moment — a quick, flash of time before he’s cutting off your breath in a searing kiss. Lips and teeth and hunger — a ravenous type of love, a ruinous thing that you crave. Fingers curl around your throat, apply the perfect amount of pressure that has you moaning into his mouth. He tips your chin up, up, up. His tongue glides along the skin there, silly nips spliced between, the rake of a fang over the throbbing beat of your pulse.

Heat pools in your belly. The sort of heat you know he can sense, your heightened arousal never to be hidden thanks to newer senses. He chuckles to himself as his nose nudges beneath your ear, lips toying with the lobe, breath sending chills down your spine as you shudder against him when his free hand slides down the front of your jeans, dragging a lazy circle over the wet fabric covering your slit.

“How long do we have before those idiots come back to get you?” he asks, a sultriness seeping into his tone.

“Long enough for you to feed,” you rasp out on a gasped breath, “or fuck me. Maybe both.”

“What do you want?” he asks, teeth scraping deliciously against your pulse again.

A little bit more, if you push him down a bit and ask him to take what he needs, and he’ll have sunk them into you again, submitting you to the delectable liquid honey that’ll flood your senses once he does.

The anticipation is one thing, a clanging cymbal that heats your blood. The knowledge that you can do this for him — that you enjoy it. It’s frighteningly empowering. Knowing it’s you who has kept him for so long— that it’s your blood that sings to him. Some might call it wrong; your friends had their own reservations and fears about it, understandably so.

After that first time, you got better with it. Quickly made sure to learn when to stop, how to stop (even if you often didn’t want to).

Sex had been one point of connection for the two of you. And that had been wonderful in and of itself. You craved him in ways you had never craved another. But this? Him having a part of you within him, your souls quite literally becoming one every time he drank from you — that was another level.

A sort of intensity that often made you both lose control. Whatever it was, you were irrevocably changed. This wonderful man, this creature you were meant to kill — the love that drew you into the forest like this, his hands making quick work of your jeans, tugging them down to your ankles, as his mouth licked at you furiously.

A gasp heaved from your chest. Fingers clutch in his hair as he pushes your hips back against the bark, fingers gripping tight to the dough of your thighs, keeping you spread out salaciously before him. It’s thrilling, the waves of your orgasm robbing you of your breath at the dawning realization of it, that at any moment Andy and Chance could appear.

That they might see you tangled so deeply in the web of lies you’ve become so tangled with these months, wrapped in the arms of the man who…loves you.

Because it’s forbidden, yes. By all means, if you’re found out it could be dangerous for both of you. They could kill him — would kill him.

But you would rip them all apart for the man who made a mess of you for all others.

You wince. And there’s coo. Eddie’s hands loosen from around your thighs, his body coming up to its full height before you. He lifts your hand, turns your palm up to inspect the splinter wedged into a fingertip. Blood pools from the wound, a scarlet teardrop that coasts down the back of your hand, trails toward your wrist.

Eddie’s eyes darken, and your lips curl up. You say quietly, “Go on.”

It might be wrong, on many levels, the way he brings your hand up to his mouth, tongue dragging along your wrist, the back of your palm, erasing the trickle of blood.

And it’s downright sinful the way he drags your finger into his mouth, eyes hazy and hooded, sucking lightly. Your mouth drops open, eyes fluttering rapidly at the beginnings of that familiar euphoria sparkling around the edges of your mind.

“I want to be inside you,” he groans, making no effort to let go of your offended appendage, “and you know I prefer somewhere private for…that.”

You know he means when he sinks his fangs into you, when he’s inside you, and you both lose yourself to the magic in his bite. Wants to be alone for when that primal desire kicks up within him, and he loses himself in your body intertwined like that.

“Eddie,” you whisper, dragging him down to the ground, onto the jeans laying sprawled across the floor. “Please. It’s been days.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, hissing out a breath as you make quick work of his belt buckle, the sound of a zipper ramping up your heart rate, “because your schedule has sucked this week —”

“Please,” you urge him as he helps you up and over his thighs, sliding you down his length like the thousands of times you’ve done this before.

His breath stutters against the curve of your throat as you rise and fall steadily over him, injured hand splayed over his heart.

“Please.”

There’s always a sting. It’s only a brief moment. A soft prick of pain like that of a needle. Only it’s really two, and they immediately are replaced by his tongue to soothe away the ache. A healing balm that oozes into your bloodstream. When he latches on again, it’s a bubbly, almost buzzing feeling that spreads through you. The feeling of sifting slowly through sinking sand, like dragging your fingers through water. Your mind numbs, a feeling of floating — of lightness unparalleled has you sinking further into him, the rolling of his hips beneath you tethering you to reality. Here and there, on the precipice of something earth shattering. It’s always like this with him.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers against where he’s bitten into your collarbone, into the skin peeking out from the collar of your shirt, “God, I love you.”

And he’s rolling you over, hands on either side of your face, eyes closed in blissfulness. The forest floor at your back, your thighs around his hips, bodies connected in a practiced dance. You marvel at his features, missing that point of additional connection, cupping his cheek instead. He’s told you you taste like the sweetest nectar, like heaven itself. Says it’s not like this with anyone else. That you’re divine, velvet, rich. You’re ethereal and his. And it takes everything in him to restrain himself, to tamper down the throbbing of his heart when he’s drinking you in, to not take too much. He could lose himself in you, in the bliss of your coupling, in the perfection of your essence.

You both come with a cry, and, as always, hate when it ends. There’s no time to hold one another, to kiss along his bare skin as he keeps you close to him. Not with the fear of Andy and Chance appearing at any time, fresh from their hunt, with murder on their minds.

Instead he leans down and cups a hand around the back of your head. Presses his forehead to yours and whispers of his love, devotion, desire for you. It’s a promise for later, sealed with the softness of his lips against yours, and he’s gone…slipping into the shadows.

No longer next to you, and yet forever marked on your heart.

——

A pair of white, well-loved Reebok’s sit near the door.

Paintings and sketches are scattered around the living room.

Further in the home, Eddie listens to the familiar thump-thump coming from down the hall. Can hear the reassuring inhale and exhale of your breath.

It’s night once more, and you’re finally off work, finally able to catch up on some sleep. Have slept most of the day since you got home, now that he thinks of it.

The bed shifts as he joins you once more, kissing along a bare spine, blankets curling low around your hips. He chuckles at the memory of you earlier, nearly kicking the door open on the hinges, ready to reprimand him for showing up unannounced while you were on patrol, only to end up ridding him of his clothes on your way to rest for the evening.

“Hi,” you whisper, eyes blinking up at him, adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom, “How long have I been out?”

“Few hours,” he tells you, running a hand along your bare shoulder. “Missed those eyes.”

“Sap.” It’s a tease. You see him every day, and even then it’s not enough.

“I made you dinner,” he says, rolling over onto his side beside you, nose brushing yours gently.

“Thank you.” You lean over to kiss him, smiling against his skin. That’ll never get old. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Another kiss. “Today was fun.”

A smirk curls your lips. “It was.”

“I should visit you at work more often.” He’s grinning, the insinuation of his words making your heart stumble happily. It’s music to his ears. “You liked that, didn’t you? Could smell it on you. Bet if I touched you now you’d be wet just from the memory of it.”

He’s not wrong. And he proves that point with the teasing drag of his middle finger along your clit, relishing the soft cry of, “Ed —” that spills from your parted lips.

“Reminded me of that first time we were together,” he purrs, rolling over you. Rolling you over onto your back. Your body settles beneath him, form soft and warm against his. “Forest floor.”

“Sexy,” you tease, breaking off into a whine as he pushes inside, rolling his hips against yours slowly. “All the dirt, twigs and leaves. Nothing screams romance like a nice forest fling.”

“We worked with what we had at the time,” he chuckles, cock dragging along your walls, drawing another moan from your throat. “But I think I like this better. Our bed. In our home.”

Because, though it’s forbidden, you never could handle the thought of being without him.

Had asked him to move in here months ago, into your home on the outskirts of town, to live a quiet life away from prying eyes.

Here, where you could protect him.

Here, where you never needed to be parted from him.

Here, where for a year now, and forever still to come, he’d have a place by your side.

“Next time, just bite me somewhere else, will you?” you ask, when you tumble back onto earth when it’s all over and you’re left satiated once more, body draped over Eddie’s. Eddie’s brows arch high on his forehead. “By the time your freaky magic saliva started to heal the bite, the guys thought it was a hickey and teased me relentlessly. And I can’t be with you from jail if they keep it up.”

“Pretty sure we’ll always be together.”

Forever, he’s promised.

Because maybe it’s his new, more animalistic side. The part of him that recognizes a soul mate. Maybe it’s the way you fit in his arms, the way your lips feel against his, or the way your blood sings to him.

But he thinks, in a way, you feel like his.

And he knows, in his heart, he’s yours.

[aestherin]

KEEP MY HEART

goal 17: kuni

There have only ever been three times you saw Scaramouche so far.

First was when you reluctantly had to watch his team's match against your brother's. He was sporting a white jersey with blue accents, representing his own university with all his glory. Though laced with tension and fatigue, his whole being still demanded attention and attraction — from you.

Second, when you met him outside your own brother's — his rival — birthday party. It was purely coincidental, how he opted to stay outside and how you were running late to the dinner. It was fate, how you both clicked despite being strangers to each other. It was all adrenaline, the reason why you accidentally gave your identity away.

And the third was today.

No more invisible strings, no more coincidences.

He was here... of his own accord.

For you.

It would've been romantic if you disregard the purpose of his visit — but still! Does he always take his friends who stay indoors to go out and see the sun? No, you don't think so.

Maybe you're a special case.

"Hey," he greeted. Scaramouche was there with his hands tucked inside his pockets, leaning against the fences surrounding your home.

'He looks so damn attractive just standing like that,' you thought.

"Hi," you smiled sheepishly.

"Let's go?"

"To where?"

"Anywhere, I guess?"

"You're the one who's taking me outside and you don't even have an itinerary?" You laughed. "How are we even going to leave?"

The man was unfazed by your bursting out. He just sighed and shook his head.

"We're commuting," Scaramouche said as if it was the most obvious thing ever. He, however, spoke again before you even had the chance to. "I have a motorbike, but I didn't want to take a risk, just in case you didn't know how to ride one."

You shrugged. "I could always learn."

Unamused, he flicked your forehead. "Stupid. Don't you ever care for yourself?"

"No need."

"What?"

"You'll do that job just fine, won't you?" You grinned at how he easily he was affected by your teasing. He wasn't flushed, no. But the way his brows furrowed, how his lips formed a thin line, and how he looked away — it was all a give-away. You have an effect on him. Somehow.

"Do you just hit on everyone you meet?"

"Oh? So you took that as me hitting on you?"

"What else would that be —" Scaramouche clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Whatever. Let's just go."

"Does your brother even know you're chatting and hanging out with me?" The boy that was sat across you uttered, having just finished sipping from his drink.

You almost choked. "Well, I would let him know if I could."

He nodded and continued sipping, but didn't bother to stop staring at you.

You looked away.

Did he really expect you would tell Kazuha about your interactions with him? If it was someone else you're crushing on, it would've been fine. You could always deal with a little teasing.

But Scaramouche? The captain of the University of Inazuma's soccer team? Rival of your brother, who was the captain of TNU's soccer team?

Kazuha would explode.

You looked back at the man.

Still staring.

"Uhh," you started off. "It's not that I'm ashamed of you or anything, it's just that..."

"Hmm?"

If the Lasso of Truth — Wonder Woman's weapon — were real, you swore you were currently binded by it. Scaramouche's expectant gaze, his slightly arched brow, and the tiny curve of his lips that he failed to hide despite his best attempt... it had the same effect on you.

It was something irresistible.

"It's just that... their image of you, in their team... let's just say, aha." You gave out an awkward chuckle. "It's not that good."

Scaramouche laughed at your words.

"Oh no, [Name]," he smirked, his tone straying away from his usual one. "Whatever would your dearest older brother do if he found out you were hanging out with a delinquent?"

"What the fuck? Scara!" You laughed.

"So? What do they say about me?"

"Rude. Arrogant. Ill-mannered."

"Ouch. But wow, that's actually fewer than I thought." He looked proud.

"Etcetera."

"Oh."

He frowned. "There's more?"

You just answered with a smile.

Your meal was filled with fun teas and hushed laughters, but it was cut short by vibrations from a phone on the table. It was Scaramouche's.

He picked the black device up, brows soon furrowing while reading the notifications he just received.

"Are you alright?" Concern grew. "What was it?"

He put his phone in his pocket. "Nothing."

You knew it had to be something.

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

previous . masterlist . next

SUMMARY — you find plenty of guys around you attractive, but there is only one you’re willing to make the first move on: the guy you first saw during your older brother’s soccer game. spoiler: he's a player from your rival university.

TAGLIST I (closed)

@kararisa @krnzysh @syriiina @unsterblich-prinz @xiaosonlybeloved @xiaomainlmao @cindywasneverhere @coquettemaiden @sunsethw4 @lunavixia @calickoh @arealistonao3 @youthingazi @zyilas @mondaymelon @yukiipc @heartswonder @st0pthatsgay @ozzierenato @astreaa-express @shewolfmiko @lovelyycherries @myaaones @countessqin @aloveablechaos @letthewindlead @lunaavity @local-blueberry-boy @luminestars @layla240 @useless-potatho @atlaszi @alatusorrow @lahsram2201 @sakiimeo @user11918163805279 @vqazx @neigesprincess @kunicrush @yoursockstinks @hotgirlshit5 @mikctp @crucnhice @apotatouwu @yuaenri @sammybeefangirls @miko1ly @deffenferofjustice @etherisy @sagegreenthinks

[flowerandblood]

The Second One (1/2)

[ modern • Aemond x Alys!sister • female ]

[ warnings: angst, kissing, physical violence, swearing, toxic relationship, toxic behaviour, manipulation ]

[ description: On the occasion of their grandfather's birthday, her older sister, Alys, comes to their house and introduces her partner to their family, who from the very beginning arouses her concern with his behavior. After a series of unpleasant words and arguments, he visits her in her room in the night, paying her a strange, ambiguous visit. Dark, manipulative, bitchy Aemond. Anon request. ]

This is Part 1 of The Loved One

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Her family decided to throw a party for her grandfather at their house to celebrate his 90th birthday, at which her older sister appeared for the first time with her partner. She was surprised that her man was so young and thought with shock that the age difference between them was at least 10 years.

She and her never understood each other very well, as Alys pursued her goals over dead bodies. After many years, she realised that she could not trust her, that she had to be careful with her words around her. She loved her and tried to accept her as she was, but she couldn't be her friend.

Nor did it seem to her that Alys could ever see her as such.

She introduced the man she had come with perfunctorily, a scar on his left cheek, it seemed to her, looking at him from a distance, that one of his eyes was artificial, shining strangely in the light of the chandelier.

He was dressed all in black in a tight jumper and fitted trousers, standing with his hands folded in front of him like a bodyguard, not paying much attention to what his sister was saying, biting his lower lip.

She thought that he didn't want to be here at all.

She shuddered when their gazes met for a long moment. Instead of looking away, however, she felt a sense of discomfort as she saw the way his eyes ran shamelessly over her entire body, the tip of his tongue hitting the side of his cheek.

She left the room deciding she didn't want to look at it, walking out through the back door into the garden.

Alys always overshadowed her, she felt small and bland in her presence. Her older sister could make a good impression when she wanted to, she was extremely feminine and confident, mysterious, a true femme fatale. She was very successful in the fashion industry, modeling for many years, her face on the front pages of the world's magazines.

Unsurprisingly, she did not seek the friendship of her younger sister, who was a nobody next to her, a little girl playing at studying literary history. She loved reading, in the world of books she could be whoever she wanted, she could be the only one, the main character in the story.

Despite what she was feeling, she tried not to show her or anyone else her pain, focusing on her friends from her studies and the fact that she really liked what she was doing, recognising that getting into university thanks to her results without being forced to pay tuition fees was also some kind of success, something her parents always emphasised.

She sat on the grass taking advantage of the fact that it was a pleasant summer evening, due to living far outside the city boundaries she could admire the stars that stretched above her across the cloudless dark sky.

She heard the sound of a door being pushed open and slid shut and thought it was her father smoking compulsively. She smiled as she heard someone's footsteps heading in her direction being sure it was him, hearing the sound of a lighter being fired up and the hiss of a cigarette.

She glanced over her shoulder and froze seeing the man Alys had come with looking at her intently. She pulled back slightly as he sat down next to her, shocked to feel her heart pounding, knowing it was strange to say the least, she felt uncomfortable.

He held out his hand to her with his cigarette and she shook her head without looking at him, wondering if she should return home. He grinned, letting the smoke out loudly through his nose.

"Are you running away from her too?" He asked with some kind of amusement, his voice low, deep, slightly hoarse. She felt a shudder at his words and looked at him uneasily with a expression of surprise on her face, wondering what he was implying.

She was running away from whom?

From Alys?

She swallowed loudly, recognising that his words were rude. They might not have liked each other, but she was her sister.

"Why be with someone you're running away from?" She asked frustrated, wondering if he had come to arouse her sister's jealousy, to tease her at her expense.

She had no intention of getting dragged into any of their games.

She felt a tightening in her throat when he looked at her with some kind of mockery, before responding he pressed his cigarette to his lips and took a deep drag, letting the smoke out along with his words.

"She can fuck well." He hummed, as if it was a normal, decent response. She shook her head in disbelief and stood up, moving ahead, leaving him alone. She entered her house and passed Alys, who wanted to ask her a question.

"Did you perhaps see −"

"− in the garden."

She couldn't look at him for the entire dinner and, as if he was doing it on purpose, he took the seat opposite her before Alys could decide for him where they would sit. She told him to move closer to her mother, but he settled comfortably in his chair, playing with his fork.

"No. I'm fine here." He muttered, throwing her a long, meaningful look. She pressed her lips together, swallowing loudly, feeling sick to her stomach.

She thought they were both worthy of each other.

She had no idea what their relationship was, but Alys liked to live on the edge and perhaps that was what she experienced with him.

Extreme emotions.

Her older sister finally sat down next to him, noticing her at last, asking her questions out of politeness that she didn't feel like answering, seeing him looking at her with a smirk that made her sick.

What kind of man was this?

"How are you doing in your studies? What are you reading now? Any poetry?" She asked in her soft, low, feminine voice, taking a sip of wine, fixing her long black hair.

She exhaled quietly, swallowing hard, looking down at her plate, on which lay an uneaten piece of meat.

"I'm reading the prose of Witold Gombrowicz right now. He's a Polish writer." She explained, convinced that her sister would certainly not know who it was, she, however, surprised her as she blinked, looking at her partner in wonder.

"Gombrowicz… do you by any chance have books by this author in your flat, Aemond?" She asked him curiously, his gaze, however, not even paying her a moment's attention, fixed on her, making her feel like sinking to the ground.

"Yes." He replied briefly, with some kind of satisfaction from which she grew hot, feeling uncomfortable with the idea that she had any interest in common with the man who sat before her. Alys stirred in her chair, intrigued.

"That's interesting. Well, tell me, little sister, what this Gombrowicz is writing about." She said lightly, putting a bit of salad on her plate.

She felt some kind of humiliation at her words, like a monkey in a circus who was now going to juggle her knowledge for her enjoyment. She sighed quietly, giving up, having no idea how to explain it to her.

"It's complicated." She said truthfully, and her sister snorted.

"Don't you know what you're reading about? What are they teaching you in these studies?" She asked with lively amusement, and she felt a tightening in her throat and tears pushing at her eyes, which she held back with difficulty.

She exhaled and looked at the man sitting in front of her, staring at her expectantly, intrigued as to what she would do, how she would answer, the fingers of his hand rubbing against each other in a gesture of anticipation.

"Gombrowicz uses difficult metaphors, swaps out certain words, using other, infantile ones in their place. Most of it is written as if he himself is the protagonist of events, it is like his stream of consciousness, the plot is simultaneously present and absent.

What all his books have in common is that he is a broken man, rejected by Poland and the Poles because he fled to Argentina on the Transatlantic right after the outbreak of the Second World War instead of staying and fighting.

Everything he writes about is his relationship with his country, which he loves and hates, which he longs for and abhors, his despair about his sexuality and his psyche. He wrote all his life in Polish, but he did not return to Poland, the communists did not want to publish his work.

He was unable to express his feelings in another language and although he was considered a traitor, in my opinion his true feeling for his country, the enormity of his suffering in seeing how much poison there was in his nation, which he pointed his fingers at when others praised it to the skies, is expressed in his work.

He is, in my opinion, an outstanding author." She said on practically one exhale, grabbing her glass of water and taking a deep sip from it, setting it down with a loud clink of glass, not looking at them, breathing with difficulty, feeling her heart pounding hard.

Her sister blinked, raising her eyebrows, shaking her head.

"Oh, Mother, so many long sentences, and I still don't know exactly what his books are about. Anyway, I'm glad that you're doing well with your studies." She said lightly, and she shuddered to see a wide, dangerous smile spread across the lips of the man before her.

He was enjoying what was happening.

He drew satisfaction from it.

Her sister went back to eating, turning to their aunt across the table, not seeing that she was struggling to hold back tears of humiliation.

Nor did she see the way her partner looked at her sister, unaware that he was giving her far too much attention.

She thought they were both fucked up.

She knew that another half hour at the most and she could run upstairs to her room saying she would go to bed and leave this whole gathering.

She saw Aemond grab a bottle of wine and pour himself half a glass, her sister threw him a puzzled, upset look.

"You're driving, aren't you?" She burbled, and he hummed under his breath, taking a deep sip. He set his glass down without looking at her.

"Not anymore. I'm tired."

She felt a tightening in her pit at the thought that he was trying to make them stay here instead of going back to the city.

She thought the last thing she wanted was to listen to them moaning on the other side of the wall and looked away, resigned and tired.

According to her plan, after several minutes she said a polite goodbye to everyone and said she would go to bed now, not honouring him or her sister with a single glance.

She changed into her pyjamas consisting of a T-shirt and shorts and locked her door, wanting to make sure no one tried to enter her room.

She swallowed loudly when, an hour later, she heard their voices in the corridor, lifting her gaze from the book she had just been reading in the light of her bedside lamp while sitting on her bed.

"I told you already, I don't want to stay here overnight. Let's order an Uber." Her sister insisted, she could hear her muffled, frustrated voice.

"And I told you I am tired. I'd like to finally fucking rest. You wanted me to come, I came, and now I want to go to bed. Is that so fucking much?" She heard his low, angry voice and felt discomfort at the thought of hearing every word knowing that this was their private conversation.

"Can you keep your voice down? Do you always have to act like a little child? And why are you looking like a pervert at my little sister, huh? Do you think I can't see? Do you want to fuck her?" She hissed out in a whisper, and she felt her heart pounding hard, ashamed, embarrassed and horrified by her words, by the fact that she had noticed it and pretended that nothing had happened.

She heard his low chuckle.

"Maybe I want to. Maybe she wouldn't act like a bitch to me like you do." He growled and she heard a loud splat followed by complete silence.

She slapped him.

She stared at her door, breathing unevenly, swallowing her saliva with difficulty, wondering if she should come out and intervene or if it was better to stay quiet.

"Get the fuck out of my house." She hissed and he laughed, as if her words amused him.

"Fuck no. I'll stay here overnight and drive home in the morning by my car. If you want, order an Uber. Sorry −"

She heard someone come upstairs and from the way he spoke she deduced that it was her mother.

"− will it be a problem if I stay here overnight? I feel bad and I wouldn't want to go back to the city in this condition." He said lowly, there was silence again, she thought despairingly that her mother didn't know what to do, having surely heard at least some of their argument.

"− I − yes − of course −" She muttered after a while. She heard the sound of a door opening on the other side of the corridor, their voices becoming increasingly indistinct.

Then she heard the loud clatter of Alys' heels, her and her mother's voices as they ran down the stairs.

"Fucking bastard." Said her sister, their mother trying to reassure her.

"− after all, I can't just throw him out, since you invited him −"

She heard the loud slamming of the front door. She got up on trembling legs and walked slowly to the window, seeing her sister lighting a cigarette with trembling hands, wiping her cheeks.

She cried.

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the sight, and even though she had hurt her so often with her words, she felt sorry for her. After a moment, she saw an Uber pull up in front of their house, and she got into it and just drove off.

She swallowed loudly at the thought that she had gone, but he had stayed.

What was he planning?

She turned off her lamp, hiding under her duvet, swallowing loudly, listening for any sounds. She felt restless, she couldn't fall asleep and she shivered feeling her heart pounding hard.

She felt that something was about to happen.

She shuddered, snapped out of a deep sleep when she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced quickly at her phone's display and saw that it was two o'clock in the morning.

She looked at her door, figuring that if she didn't get up he would go away, but he knocked again. She covered her face with her hands, feeling tears under her eyelids with fear.

"Please, go away. Please." She said pleadingly wanting him to take pity on her, not having the strength for it, for their pushing and shoving, for him to fuck her now when in a week's time they'd be back together with her sister, looking for thrills, hating and loving each other like two elements.

She had no intention of being anyone's plaything.

"I want to talk about Gombrowicz." He said lowly and she groaned loudly, licking her lips, shaking her head.

"It's two in the morning." She muttered beggingly, not understanding completely what he had in mind.

"I'm not going until we talk about him." He said after a moment in a matter-of-fact, cool tone, and she sighed heavily, stood up and walked to the door, turning the key.

She opened it for him and there he was, standing in front of her, looking down at her with an indifferent expression on his face. He stepped inside as if nothing had happened, walking up to her window and opening it wide, pulling cigarettes and a lighter from the back pocket of his trousers.

She thought surprised that she had never met such an insolent man in her life and simply closed the door behind him, sitting down on her bed, leaning her back against the wall, covering her bare legs with the duvet.

He didn't look at her but out of the window, straight into the night, his face lit by the warm flame of the fire, his cigarette hissed and lit. He took a drag of it, settling comfortably on her wide windowsill, silent for a long moment.

"Have you read Trans-Atlantyk?" He asked at last indifferently, still not looking at her while letting the smoke out with his mouth, his face turned in profile to her. She swallowed loudly, all tense, wrapping her knees with her hands.

"Yes." She replied quietly.

Silence fell between them again, broken only by the hiss of his cigarette each time he took a drag.

"What do you think about it?" He asked at last, just as matter-of-factly and dispassionately, and she pressed her lips together, sleepy and tired.

"That it's his best book." She said truthfully, throwing him a depressed, exhausted look.

She didn't have the strength for this.

She just wanted to go to sleep.

"Why?" He continued, and she sighed heavily, placing her forehead on her knees.

"Because it is his response to what has been going on around him. It is his answer to all the accusations made against him. Proof that his country was not at all indifferent to him - on the contrary, although he wanted to, he could not eradicate it from his heart. He saw what was poisoning his country from within. What was destroying it and he had the courage to speak out about it.

He spoke of it with irony and contempt, but when you read into his words, there is only deep feeling and regret there, regret that his country cannot be what he would like, what he needs, what he loves, but his people do not reciprocate this feeling, do not see the need to change, that everything is declining.

His feelings are complicated, but therefore true, because he shows that there are no easy answers. Out of the chaos of his thoughts there emerges some truth, some core, and although elusive, although dressed up in humour and irony that made me laugh, after reading this book I wanted to cry."

She said exactly what she felt, regardless of whether he was listening or not. She heard him hum at her words, silent for a long moment, his cigarette almost completely burnt out.

"After I first read this book I couldn't sleep. I felt anxious. As if I had suddenly entered someone's mind, heard their private thoughts and then no longer knew whether I or the author was thinking about something. I had never felt anything like that before." He said low, calmly, running his tongue over his lower lip, dropping his cigarette into her glass of water that stood on her desk.

She looked at him uncertainly noticing that his face was no longer so tense and aggressive, he was lying comfortably spread out, leaning his back against a wall, pulling another cigarette from his pack.

She considered his words in silence, recognising with surprise that she understood what he was talking about, that she had in fact felt the same way when she read this author's books.

"Can I sleep here with you?" He asked suddenly, and she threw him a shocked, horrified look. She watched him nonchalantly light another cigarette.

What?

"− no − I − God −" She mumbled out, burying her face in her hands, wanting to tell him that he was just terrifying her, that what he was asking was wrong in so many different ways and was putting her in a very awkward position.

"− I can sleep on the floor − I won't touch you −" He said finally looking at her, letting out a puff of smoke with a quiet hiss of his lips. She couldn't tell what she saw in that look, dark, cold, proud.

She felt a certain discomfort looking at his face, feeling that it was some kind of game, that he was testing her.

"I don't believe you. You want to have fun at my expense, but I don't feel like it. We've talked, now leave. Please." She said quietly, looking bravely into his face, trying to sound as soft as possible. She had no intention of offending him, she just wanted him to let her alone.

He, however, was still sitting in the same place and still looking at her.

"I don't love your sister." He said lightly, as if he were talking about the weather, and she snorted, shaking her head.

"I don't care. She cried today because of you after she left our house. You're insolent and unpleasant, intruding on me in my own home and making me feel uncomfortable." She choked out, frustrated and angry, furrowing her brow, feeling that she was losing patience.

He, however, chuckled lowly at her words, amused, shaking the ash from his cigarette out of the window.

"She was crying? That's interesting. She didn't give a shit that you almost cried because of her at the table." He murmured, glancing at her curiously, clearly wanting to check her reaction. She pressed her lips together at his words.

"It's none of your business. Get out." She said dryly, and he stood up, approaching her slowly, crouching in front of her bed, placing his elbows on her bedding, the cigarette in his mouth, which he lightly removed with his hand as he caught his balance.

"She told me about you. What an ugly duckling you are. That you don't know how to dress well, don't know how to accentuate your figure and your assets. That you hide yourself in big sweatshirts and sit with your nose in books instead of really living and that there's nothing to talk to you about because you can't converse about anything interesting." He mused, taking another drag, cocking his head with curiosity.

She felt pain in her heart at his words and tightness in her throat, her fingers clenched on the material of her duvet, her eyebrows arching in anguish. She felt tears under her eyelids again, but she didn't want to give this bastard any satisfaction.

"Get out." She repeated coolly in a trembling voice, looking at him coldly.

"But when I saw you today I understood why she said that. Because you're pretty. Because you're kind. Polite and cultured. Because you can talk about high literature, and she just doesn't understand what you're talking about. You don't have to spend hours applying make-up, wearing deep necklines and tight dresses to be naturally beautiful. To attract and intrigue. She's fucking jealous of you, little one." He hummed and she felt a shudder at the way he called her, thinking how inappropriate it was, she pressed her body against the wall, wanting to be as far away from him and his words as possible, feeling hot, thinking that he was manipulating her.

"Did you tell her what she wanted to hear too, before you got bored?" She asked with derision, the corner of her mouth twitching in a mocking smile. She saw his gaze darken, licking his lower lip involuntarily as if he recognised that he was accepting her challenge.

"I didn't have to say much. She prefers to fuck, you know? To feel desired." He murmured low, taking another drag, looking at her expectantly, some dangerous glint in his eye.

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked finally, feeling that she didn't have the strength for it, that she just wanted him to leave her alone. He smirked in a way that made her feel a shiver.

"Just so you know the problem isn't with you." He said lightly, as if it was obvious, and she shook her head unable to follow his train of thought.

"Why are you with her if you despise her?" She asked, spreading her hands in a gesture of despair, feeling that she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, her voice slightly raised and trembling.

"Because she has big tits and a big ass. Because she sucks cock well." He said calmly and she shook her head, feeling embarrassed by his words, feeling as one by one tears began to run down her cheeks.

She covered her face with her hands, feeling that it was too much for her, that they were both worthy of each other.

Why was he meddling her in their affairs?

"− hey − hey, little one −" He whispered, she felt the mattress next to her bend under his weight and she immediately jumped back, terrified, pushing him away, shaking her head.

"− no − please, no, leave −" She mumbled out, but he just put his arms around her and pressed her against his chest, she could hear his heart beating fast, he smelled of wine, cigarettes and some intense, masculine perfume.

"− please, let me go −" She wailed through her tears, but he hushed her, his free hand stroking her hair, the other holding his cigarette.

She felt him lean his back against the wall and settle into a half-lying position, drawing her with him, his large, warm hand roaming over her head and back, in some strange, irrational way making her feel comfortable.

"− cry −" He whispered quietly with some kind of understanding, as if he knew what she was going through, and although she didn't want to, she allowed herself to burst into sobs, along with her tears flowing out of her all the years she felt next to her sister like nobody.

She didn't want to come off as the jealous one, the one who couldn't enjoy other people's successes, but she understood that Alys never praised her sincerely, everything she said was the bare minimum so that no one could accuse her of being judgmental towards her.

She felt bad at the thought of sobbing in her man's embrace, cuddled up to his chest, but she couldn't help it, she didn't have the strength anymore, she just wanted to sleep, to simply rest.

"− it's okay, little one − I know −" He hummed stroking her hair with slow, tender movements, playing with her curls once in a while, smoking his cigarette, which he held in his other hand, the pleasant, cool night air breezing over her warm, red cheeks.

They were both quiet, lying like that in silence, looking towards the window. She sniffed with her nose and snuggled into him, surrendering.

She thought that if he tried to rape her she would start screaming loudly to wake her family, but some subconscious feeling told her that he wouldn't do it.

That for some reason he too sought comfort in her.

"− I'm done with her, you know? − after what I saw today − after the way she spoke to you I realised that she has no respect not only for me, but even for her immediate family − I was deluding myself that she was only saying that to me because I'm a piece of shit, but I was wrong −" He murmured quietly, weariness and discouragement in his voice. She swallowed loudly, trembling in his embrace.

"You don't speak respectfully to her either." She whispered resentfully, wondering if he really thought he was blameless.

He chuckled quietly at her words and she shuddered when she felt him kiss her hair as if they had been close, as if they had known each other for years. He rested his chin on the top of her head, playing with her hair.

"− that's true − but I don't pretend to be a saint − I know what I want and I make it clear − she hides her desires behind pretty, empty words −" He grunted, stroking her head with a calm, steady motion of his hand.

For some reason what he was doing was calming her down, she was no longer so frightened, though she still felt strange and uncomfortable.

"If you make it clear what you want, why don't you say why you came here?" She asked with a grudge, feeling pain at the thought of him toying with her and getting exactly what he wanted. He hummed, letting the smoke out through his nose.

"I already told you. I want to talk to you about Gomborowicz and sleep in the same bed with you." He murmured low, kissing her head again, nuzzling the tip of his nose into her hair.

She felt bad at the thought that for some reason it was pleasurable, that she felt a sense of satisfaction that she was now the one in bed with him and not her sister.

She shuddered when his hand slid up to her face and lifted her chin, forcing her to rise her head. She drew in a loud breath when she felt his lips immediately pressed to hers, soft, wet and hot, his tobacco-tasting tongue invading deep into her throat making her feel throbbing between her thighs.

She pressed her hand against his sleek black jumper, ashamed and terrified that she didn't have the strength to resist him, that she was taking pleasure in the way his fingers stroked her cheek gently as their tongues met and licked with a loud, lewd click, rough and sticky from their saliva, his cigarette slowly burning out in his other hand.

She wasn't sure she'd ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time, her heart pounding like mad, she felt her moisture between her thighs, she clenched her legs tightly to relieve herself any way she could.

She knew he felt it, his hand slid from her face down her back to her buttocks and slipped from behind between her thighs, his fingers pressed against the material of her shorts, massaging her there in sure, slow, circular motions.

"No." She mumbled and pulled away from him, terrified, feeling that this had gone too far, that she couldn't do this, that she wouldn't let him take advantage so that he could then laugh in Alys face with the satisfaction that her little sister had welcomed him between her thighs with joy.

They stared at each other with eyes wide open, breathing embarrassingly loudly.

"Come here."

"Please, get out."

"Come."

She felt her heart pounding hard, felt that they were now fighting each other for dominance, for who would have the last word, who would give in.

"If you don't leave, I'm going to get up and wake my parents saying that you came to my room in the middle of the night and you won't leave me alone." She said dryly and he pressed his lips together feeling that her words were final, that she wasn't joking.

"You don't want me to leave." He whispered lowly pressing his lips together, breathing unevenly, his cigarette extinguished.

She swallowed loudly involuntarily glancing down and felt a shudder as she saw the bulge in his trousers.

He was hard.

She shook her head feeling her tears gather in the corners of her eyes again.

"I can't, I'm sorry, it was a mistake. I don't want to do it, not like this, it's wrong. Fuck!" She cursed, knowing it had gone too far anyway, burying her face in her hands, heartbroken that she could have done such a thing to her own sister.

She heard him rose lazily, dropping his second cigarette into her glass of water. He looked at her over his shoulder in a way that made her feel a tightness in her throat.

"I'm sorry, little one. I didn't mean to hurt you. Really." He said lowly with some kind of pain and just walked out, leaving her alone at last.

She collapsed on her bed, covering herself with her duvet up to her head, wanting to hide, to disappear, to sink into the ground.

She couldn't believe how close it was.

How close it was for them to fuck.

She cried her eyes out terrified that she felt tension between her thighs, that she was aroused.

That some part of her wanted him to come back and finish what he had started.

She was awakened in the morning by the loud banging of the front door of her house. She got up quickly, walking over to her open window, looking out of it into her driveway.

She saw him open his car door and give her one last look, as if he hoped he would see her there. She felt a strange tightening in her heart and pain, tears under her eyelids.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a slam, after a moment she heard the muffled sound of music and the whirr of an engine.

She watched with a blank stare as he drove away and disappeared around the corner, pressing her forehead against the frame of her window, feeling a stream of tears begin to run down her cheeks.

She wiped her face with her hands, heartbroken that this man had brought her to such a state in one evening, and turned away, wanting to return to her bed.

She froze, spotting something white on the floor beneath her door. After a moment, she noticed that it was a folded piece of paper and she walked over to it quickly, picking it up from the floor and opening it. There was only one sentence written inside.

I wish I had met you before her.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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[levmada]

every—lesser known—canon fact about Levi Ackerman.

infamously over the years, there have been countless false rumors about Levi in particular out of the cast. many of them have become popular, even ubiquitous, and it's annoying!

and also disheartening when you find out it's not true....

and hurtful when you realize it was - sometimes - made up by trolls.

so i'm making this post<3

credit to @levisfavoriteacup for the idea!!

*disclaimer: i'm not perfect, so this may not be Everything™️ but I am confident that it's the majority of information available, and that it's trustworthy. :)

First the most populars. There is no evidence across interviews nor other content over the years that:

Levi is ugly, and is considered ugly in AOT.

Nope. See here: (tumblr link), or:

Isayama finished his first sketch of Levi mostly on a whim, but the moment he drew his face, he had a sense it would work well / he knew he had something good. Something told him: "the yaoi fangirls are going to like this one".

As time passed and his popularity grew, Isayama caught onto this and wanted to portray him more attractively (in multiple ways) to the viewer/reader.

But from the beginning, this was something of the goal. He is short because Isayama had in mind what young women/fangirls in Japan consider attractive: a man with a higher-pitch voice; has a small face; and who is "short but strong".

In the world of AOT, he (in a nutshell) is mostly considered plain or awkward, but combined with his reputation and style, he's very charming. "He cleans up nice." Overall, it is positive :) But more importantly, realistic I think.

He's also something of a celebrity. People who advertise their product as being used by him are more successful; when he's seen in a shop, this by itself is considered "advertising" and more people come in. Quote: ""the tea that the hero bought”".

He's definitely not a 2/10 at any rate😇.

—the 24th episode of Naoki Yoshida's Anime Plan, 2013 / Interview with Frau Magazine, 2013 | Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) | AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 1 | Taking shelter from the rain reprise: Levi and Peaure

Levi’s type would be someone who’s "tough, feminine and sensual".

Levi's type "might" be tall people. But context matters, because in multiple translations "don't you think?" and "might be" are thrown around a lot. Isayama isn't known for his clarity. When asked, he practically said the question right back. —fan Q&A from a festival in Betsumaga, Aug.2014

What this quote might have come from is a statement by the author of an article Isayama was likely involved in. I can't say this is 100% canon, but in my opinion it's a little less canon than the Smartpass AUs; if those are sub-canon, then this is sub-sub-canon:

Levi's romantic type is someone who walks three steps behind him, and likes cleaning.

In the past, in Japanese culture, for a wife to walk three steps behind her husband implied highly traditional gender roles. What this is much more likely to mean is that Levi's romantic type is someone who will let him protect them, or will run away and survive even if it costs his life. (And they have to like cleaning.)

—the article is from 2013, and no longer exists. but the link was used as recently as 2021 as a source in this post by a reliable translator. I've found this quote also in varying qualities of translation across Japanese and English forums, so to the best of my knowledge, it's reliable.

Levi's cravat is a piece of his mother's dress + he was wearing her dress when Kenny found him.

This is a popular rumor that Isayama has never confirmed (i think it is true, tho.)

December 25th was chosen by his comrades because he doesn't know his actual birthday.

The guidebook only states that it is his birthday. I can't find any more context on this. —AOT Guidebook; p.256

His character profile:

—AOT Guidebook; p.78–79

His name is Hebrew, and means "attached" or to be "joined".

Isayama came up with Levi's name after watching American documentary "Jesus Camp". (It's about a summer camp-type program where evangelical Christian children are taught extreme beliefs. One of the children was named Levi.) Isayama heard it and thought it sounded cool. —Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) | 2010 blogpost by Isayama

Levi is in his early 30s (in s3/RtS/volume 19). –Interview, Universal Studios Japan’s SNK THE REAL exhibition, 2016 | confirmation

If Kuchel was still alive, Levi would want to make sure she had an easy life. This means specifically filial piety, a concept exclusive to the East: he would fulfill his duties as a son for her. (tldr he's a mama's boy :3) —Bessatsu Magazine, 2019

Levi would have thin facial hair, but he prefers not to, so he shaves frequently. —January 2020 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 124)

He doesn't like coffee milk or coffee jelly. They're out of the question even.🤐 —July 2018 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 106)

He just gets depressed when he drinks coffee. Maybe he loves tea that much? He stopped calling Hange names like 'shitty glasses' since they became commander because he "seems" to respect their position that much. However, a Smartpass story delves deeper into this (and states as I suspected): [After Hange makes a joke] "Since becoming the commander succeeding Erwin, they’d toned down on their past speech and behaviour that had a touch of tomfoolery; Levi understanding that they were nevertheless trying to maintain the self “that was the case then”, also loses the will to curse at them." + "In the past, Hange had a Hange-type dream, and should have been progressing to that purpose. That lately, was it the weight of the office of commander, or was it due to the reality that is “all the world was our enemy”, their manner had changed considerably." —May 2017 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 92) | Goodnight. Sweet dreams, dear. Act II: Levi

If he and Kenny had fought one-on-one, Levi would've won. —December 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 87)

intermission: all about tea

His favorite "food" is black tea. No actual food.

He doesn't add sugar or milk to his tea because he considers it too expensive—which it is canonically. Despite this, he will share his tea with his comrades (his original squad as far as is seen).

Even though he's Captain, he'd rather drink it straight (the implications of which are he's a hardworking man, like that of a farmer. aka, this makes him seem humble).

If a time of peace ever came, Levi wants to open a black tea shop (he said in a dreamlike way, not so much based in reality).

He also knows a good amount of facts and history about it. He's a tea enthusiast!!

Levi receives pilfered tea in shipments monthly, thanks to Erwin.

—AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 2 | Part 1 | Taking shelter from the rain reprise: Levi and Peaure | Bessatsu Magazine, Jan.2014 | September 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 84) | AU Smartpass My First Time Around: Levi Ackerman | The Case of the Corps Tea Party - File No. 09 Levi's Side (3/3) | sugar and milk in tea from the Japanese perspective

Levi, out of his original squad, found Petra cute/sweet in the general sense of the word "kawaii". Like Levi's romantic type however, this was sort of a non-answer to the question (of whether Levi thought she was cute). —2014 interview

After RtS, Levi seems to consider Hange and the 104th his family. —AU Smartpass My First Time Around: Levi Ackerman

He wears a cravat because Isayama based part of his design off Rorschach from the movie 'Watchmen'. He looks "delicate" because of his size and weight, but he's so powerful because [in issues before the reveal of the Ackerman bloodline] of "invisible power" at work. —January 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 76)

The best way to describe the way he thinks is to compare him to the main character from the movie The Hurt Locker (2008). His character was born from Hiei from the manga 'Yuyu Hakusho', and Rorschach from the movie 'Watchmen'. The former was the basis for his appearance (especially his eyes), and the latter was the basis for his personality. Firstly though, Isayama had an image of a small man being the strongest.

—Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) / Brutus Magazine (2014)

He is something of a protagonist (especially in s3p1). — Animedia, June 2018

His favorite tool (in general...?) is microfiber cloths (for dust I guess. Levi has no need for weapons :3) —July 2015 issue of Bessatsu Magazine

He will usually laugh/smile when he sees convenient cleaning goods (i.e., vacuum cleaners? feather dusters? ((cuz he's a shorty?❤️)) —Bessatsu Magazine, Dec. 2013

He does want to be taller sometimes. He gets eager to clean up after meals rather than cook at all. He can cook, though. —Bessatsu Magazine, Aug.2014 | fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018

Levi mostly couldn't adapt to the changes that came about after the truth was discovered. Only he wears mostly the same uniform, cape, and blades.

After RtS, Levi personally retrieved Erwin's remains himself, for whom there was a special memorial service. After Eren (inadvertently) called him a "tiny old man" in season 3, Levi didn't care, but when he thought of it by himself later, he was hurt (unclear exactly why). Levi's father, most likely one of Kuchel's customers, is an insignificant man who's short. That's where Levi's height comes from. His face comes from his mother. At the start of season 4, Levi didn't change much compared to the 104th because he's turning into an "old man" who'd rather stick with his flip phone so to speak. He "doesn't break out into cold sweats". AKA he's always calm under pressure. He considers prostitution to be an ordinary job because of his childhood. Levi's vision is very sharp, way above average. He thought Eren's new look beginning season 4 was unclean/dirty (in more ways than one perhaps). —fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018

He has slight bouts of insomnia. He never snaps/explodes when he's angry. But he does get angry or grumpy a lot, in general. He doesn't sing. It's more likely he would dance. If he was a fan of Momoiro Clover Z (jpop girl group), his favorite would be Momoka. When/if he drinks, he has a high tolerance, but he can get a little drunk :) One thing he highly hates and fears is mold. He is the one who ordered Armin to dress as Historia during the uprising. His blood type is A. Blood types are much like horoscopes in Japanese culture, and Levi's is as such: kichōmen, or well-organized; he likes keeping things neat, but can be stubborn and stressed out easily.

Whether he eats enough or has a good diet? He is "a bit lax". Maybe he forgets to eat sometimes, or has a low appetite. When Levi bathes, he goes for a quick shower then soak in hot water, which takes about ten minutes. Like a bird :')) He on any given night gets about 2-3 hours of sleep. He thought Eren was the best at cleaning (in season 3 / uprising arc). Because of his childhood in the Underground, Levi has a preoccupation/obsession with cleaning (specifically to ward off disease). He also doesn't have any pajamas, mostly keeping day clothes on when he goes to sleep - which is in "his" chair. Levi cuts his own hair using clippers. (Something like:)

He's aware Oluo imitated him, and found it annoying. Levi's horoscope (in general) as a Capricorn: Humanity’s Strongest Soldier - Levi. He possesses warmth in the midst of a dispassionate nature, and he is capable of leadership without verbal expression – both of which are special qualities of a Capricorn. Capricorns tend to hold certain levels of authority, even if they must carry out somewhat unreasonable tactics while in such positions. But when such authority is backed up with actual abilities, a Capricorn can gain Levi’s type of confidence and also be put on a pedestal by those around them. However, Capricorns won’t be dependent on others, much less trust them easily. They don’t hold high expectations and thus never feel a sense of failure. Levi’s faults include the inability to express himself clearly.  Even though he wants to encourage his companions, he always speaks in a roundabout way, and without Hanji’s translation it’s nearly impossible to understand Levi’s intended meaning. Even though he is dependable in most situations, when it comes to love/romance, he expresses himself clumsily/awkwardly. —FRaU Magazine, Aug.2014. | fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018 | Levi: Close-up Report (Part One) | Translator *the horoscope wasn't written by Isayama, but was published alongside canon information, and it's also not factually wrong, so I'm including it.

The dark circles under Levi’s eyes are to convey the “self-destruction” he takes on to reach the “standard” of Humanity’s Strongest. —Interview on the topic of Levi, May 2015

His 'liege'—as Eren is to Mikasa, and Uri is to Kenny—is Erwin. He is afraid of making deep relationships because of the cruel world he lives in; he can't know when someone he cares for will die or how soon. That 'gap' left in Levi's heart by Kenny's death was filled by his squad (the 104th). If Levi hadn't joined the Survey Corps, he would've been a "very irresponsible person". Risky with his life perhaps? As a kid, Levi used to make himself stronger in order to receive praise from Kenny. When he abandoned him, he wondered what his strength was even for. He was able to find peace with Kenny after his death. In CH72, the reason Levi kicked the shit out of Eren and Jean is because of his argument with Erwin earlier.

He knows he's a slave to his own strength, aka the idea of being a hero. He realizes it when Kenny asked what he's a slave to in s3/ch69. —Answers Guidebook, Aug.2016

If he ever changed his appearance, the one thing Levi couldn't be able to give up is his undercut :') He would grow out the top and tie it up :3 —Oyama homecoming event Q&A in 2014 | 2 | 3

Levi knows how to use a gun, but he "places more trust" in knives. —Bessatsu Magazine, 2019

Levi tolerates saunas. But instead of enjoying himself he seems to see it as a test of endurance. (LOL) —Bessatsu Magazine, 2020

Levi has newspaper-level handwriting that he practices often. He's very conscious of it and being connected back to the Underground. —AU Smartpass TEXT: Levi’s Signature

Isayama had considered killing Levi around the time of the thunderspear explosion. (As always) Isayama deliberated with his editors whether or not it'd be meaningful if he died, and they decided it wouldn't be. —Kawakubo interview, 2021

Specially, Levi holds his swords in a reverse grip "his own way" since he wasn't officially trained. —Illustrate Note Magazine, 2017

Levi forcefully bathes Hange by knocking them unconscious. —AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 1

Levi is 4 at the time that Kuchel dies. —What the director informed Kamiya Hiroshi of on set

His character song is called "Dark Side of the Moon", found on YouTube here. Translated lyrics here.

how to draw Levi:

—AOT Guidebook; p.229 | +Illustrate Note Magazine, 2017

[mysimsloveaffair]

Figuring out the age of Sims in the Sims 4 is tough. Sims don’t have a set ‘birthday,’ and they age up based on life stages, making it hard for legacy players and storytellers to narrow down exactly what ‘age’ a sim is. Let’s face it: there’s a big difference between a child who is five years old and one who is twelve.

I’ve been a legacy/storyteller for years. Previously, I relied on the in-game ‘normal’ life span for my sims. However, I often felt rushed to get my sims married and have children. This was to avoid the problem of my elder sims dying off before meeting their grandchildren. This issue became even worse when the Discover University Expansion was introduced. If I want to send my sims to college, it takes up even more of their young adult years. Consequently, the marriage/child ‘rush’ becomes a bigger issue.

Eventually, I turned to the MC Command Center mod to solve this by creating my own age ranges, giving each life stage ample time to pursue their goals, develop as characters, and later find someone to spend their lives with. With some tweaking over the years, I came up with the life stage breakdowns you see above. I tried matching the number of sim days in each life stage with an ‘age’ that matches what we’re used to in the real world. I am sharing this because it might be helpful for anyone else who is struggling to ‘age’ their sims. And while it’s not perfect, it could be a good starting point, and I hope it helps!

A large/printable version of this graphic is available on my website here: My Sims 4 Lifespan**

**Link takes you to my WordPress website

Thanks to @storiesbyjes2g, as always, for her feedback!

[scarletwinterxx]

je ne sais quoi - jaehyun

this man posted on ig and suddenly i'm here writing😅 srsly like he's sooooooooo boyf material it's making me mad hahah anyways hope you like this one.

this can be a part 2 of this scenario, someone commented for a p2 so here you go😅🤍

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

: a bit suggestive, fluff, whipped jaehyun

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2023 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"Babe, what's your 2024 goal?"

You hear your boyfriend ask from beside you, letting out a chuckle before answering him. Something he might not expect to hear

"Be pregnant"

It was almost comical, the way his head turned towards you in a slowmo manner like he did not just hear those words right.

"What?" you asked, blinking innocently back at him. When he kept on staring at you, you couldn't help but burst out laughing. Leaning over rest your head on his chest.

You feel him kiss the top of your head, "I mean if that's what you want, I'm sure I can make it happen"

Snickering at his words, you know he's smirking right now without even looking at him. "Is that what they mean when they say fuck around and find out"

He laughs, pulling you even closer to him. Doesn't matter the rest of the couch is vacant, he wants you always as near to him as possible. After the surprise you gave him on his birthday, the man's practically (and sometimes literally) on his knees for you. Jaehyun wasted no time to ask you to be officially his. And even though the two of you started out on a casual relationship, you were elated to finally call the fine young man your boyfriend.

And it's been a fairytale ever since. If Jaehyun was lowkey before, it definitely changed now. Any time the two of you are in public, best believe he will find a way to stick by your side the entire time. His eyes stay on you and only you.

"But like really? is that your goal for next year?"

"Why? Do you not want kids?"

"I want kids with you, that's the only correct answer for me"

His words got you folding, ready to give him all. If he said he wants to have your kids then who are you to say no.

"You can't tell me that when I have the worst baby fever, like seriously. Just imagine our kid in cute outfits this time around oh my god"

"I mean if we get to it right now I'm sure we'll have a baby by Christmas next year"

You don't know if he's being serious or just indulging you right now. But the very thought of a baby that looks just like Jaehyun is enough to make your ovaries explode metaphorically.

"Shut up, now you're just teasing me" you hit him on the chest

"Babe, you would definitely know if I'm teasing you"

"Are you like serious though, no fucking around. Do you want to have kids? maybe not now but in the future something like that" you mumble

He smiles while listening to you. It's like you have no idea how precious you are to him, you can ask him for anything and he'll always do your bidding. You can ask him for the stars, he'll map out the entire universe for you.

"Yes, and I was being serious. In the future, I want to have kids with you. I'm in it for the long run baby. I don't really see anyone else being the mother of my children"

"Children, so as in plural" you giggle

"Yea, but it's up to you. How many you want, that's how may I want to"

You look up at him, smiling so big it almost hurts. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Jeong Jaehyun?" you whisper

"As you do, my love. I don't even understand it sometimes, all I know is you're on my mind always" he said looking straight in your eyes

He holds the back of your neck, pulling your face towards his until your lips are against his. He can feel you smile against the kiss, making him do the same. You move from sitting beside him to sitting on his lap, his other hand holding your hip in place.

The two of you get lost in each other's touch, kiss until you run out of breath. He kisses your face, down your neck until he finds the spot only he knows about. The one that makes you squirm and make all the pretty noises he's crazy about.

"At this rate, you're going to give me a child before new year comes" you breathed out. Hugging his head against you. You can feel his lips continue on doing the magic, it will definitely leave a mark you thought.

"Should I start calling you daddy now?" you rasped out, vou feel him stop what he was doing,

"Oh you're definitely getting it now" he says before standing up, lifting you along. Hands under your thigh's as he carries you towards the bedroom, your giggles echoing down the halls.

[solselah]

What manifestation is

coming your Way ?

PILE 1 :

You definitely must have been manifesting Hard for abundance, specifically money ! I can see that you may randomly manifest the opportunity to win or get unexpected money, So I would keep my eyes open and definitely try to play a number you’re thinking of or a birthday for some of you. I can totally see that you have a manifestation coming in concerning marrying into money or dating someone with an inheritance!! What I love is that you will both love each other as you’re surrounded by so much joy and fulfillment!! You could have put off manifesting this for a little bit, but it seems renewal is in order ! This will be coming your way pretty fast ! I would say 6 months to a year and for a few it could be almost (4) years !! Potentially due to accomplishments like graduating from school or even A work contract.

It will come to pass and this is your heads up !!

☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻

PILE 2:

Immediately, I can see that someone else’s manifestation is attempting to come your way ! It looks like this is someone you are attached to or someone who feels soul tied to you. On your end, I see you calling out BS & being honest about this person's co-dependent relationship with you. This person is simply manifesting YOU back in their life, So this is a clear signal to call them out on it or simply ignore the call ! Beat ‘em to the game 😉

☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻

PILE 3:

The manifestation coming your way is described as the ability to move on !! You could have been Alchemizing the energy that has come to you recently, allowing for a balanced energetic change for yourself!! I believe before this manifestation arrives to you, you will have an out of this world epiphany which will give you the inclination to believe something new is coming in for you ! Which is accurate, it’s just you have to make that conscious move to depart from people and environments that don’t fit who you are !! Freedom is important to you and to confirm, you will have the most amazing feeling of relief once you move on or even out for some !! You’re not here for feeling suppressed in any manner and would rather do your own thing always !! Your dreams could have literally helped you manifest this goal to MOVE ON /OUT!!

Good luck to you ✨

☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻

PILE 4:

The manifestation coming your way is the desire to get yourself out of the mud !! You may feel very stuck at the moment & things definitely feel forced, whether that be your happiness or your pure joy. There is just something more to your emotional life right now !!! And you have manifested truth to really see. Without the “rose colored glasses”, you may unravel certain fears and self-limiting beliefs in the process, but for the most part you are freeing yourself from being limited !! Start to look at yourself as a limitless being !! That alone will help to guide the energy into the right space.

☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻

Hope you enjoy ✨

IG: @solselah

[nori-the-cat]

What is Jay like as a boyfriend?

Remember: This reading offers possibilities, not guarantees. Jay's true personality and relationship style would depend on his individual experiences and choices. This is for entertainment purposes only. This was a requested reading.

Cards: the hermit, the hierophant, the emperor, seven of swords, eight of pentacles, and judgement.

Jay is someone serious, attentive, somewhat controlling and secretive. I got a manly and masculine energy from him.

These cards scream Jay as the type of boyfriend who thrives on creating a secure and dependable relationship. Tradition and stability might be important to him, and he could be someone who enjoys making plans and sticking to them. This doesn't mean he's boring.

While Jay might value tradition, it doesn't mean he's a stick in the mud. This means someone who is stuck in their own ways. He could still surprise you with thoughtful gestures or plan romantic outings that show his caring side. Think of him as someone who combines dependability with a dash of sweetness.

If you like someone who always takes charge, Jay is your guy. Jay might be someone who takes charge and provides a sense of stability in a relationship. However, it's important to see if this translates to control or being overly domineering.

If you like someone who you can rely on, Jay is also your guy. He is someone who likes to lead and be the one you rely on. He's indeed the stereotypical 'rely on me' type of guy. I mentioned above that tradition and stability are important to him and IT IS.

I would not say he's my boyfriend material. But he could be someone else's boyfriend material. Here's why: While tradition might be important to him, Jay would do grand gestures for his partner (you). He might surprise you with romantic dinners planned in advance, celebrate milestones in a meaningful way, or simply remember the little things that make you happy. But don't always expect this kind of gesture to happen. If it suits his agenda, he would do it for you in a heartbeat. But if it clashes with his plan, he wouldn't. However, he's still pretty willing to make his partner (you) happy.

Imagine Jay as someone who enjoys creating traditions and rituals with his partner (you). Maybe it's a weekly movie night, a special way you celebrate each other's birthdays or a shared hobby you explore together. He likely thrives on building a sense of togetherness and stability within the relationship. For him, there must be stability and consistency in the relationship.

Although he has controlling tendencies, Jay is someone reliable. You can count on Jay to be there for you, through thick and thin. He's likely someone who remembers important dates, follows through on promises, and offers unwavering support during challenging times.

Despite Jay's reliability and dependability, and goal-oriented and ambitious mindset. Jay has tendencies to be secretive. Jay is someone who is resourceful and knows how to navigate challenges. However, it could also indicate a tendency to be a bit secretive or withhold his true feelings at times. So, to me, Jay seems like someone who might value his privacy and need time to process his emotions before sharing them openly. While this can bring a sense of mystery and independence to the relationship, there's a chance it could also lead to misunderstandings.

Jay might not be the one to wear his heart on his sleeve. He might show his affection through actions or thoughtful gestures, but struggle to verbalize his emotions readily. This doesn't mean he doesn't care, but it could take some getting used to for someone who craves constant reassurance.

Luckily, Jay is someone who is dedicated to his relationships and puts effort into making them work. He might be a reliable partner who is always striving to improve. The judgement card, following the Seven of Swords, suggests Jay might be capable of self-reflection and growth. He might be willing to learn from his mistakes and make positive changes in his relationships.

Date ideas with Jay:

Surprise him with tickets to a concert, play, or sporting event he'd love. This shows you put thought into his interests.

Find a new activity you can both enjoy learning, like painting, dancing, or photography. This creates a shared interest and tradition.

While Jay might enjoy planning, occasionally present him with a few activity choices and let him pick. This gives him a sense of control while still offering you some input.

These are the songs that reminds me of Jay as a boyfriend.

Note: This is a requested reading from @babygirll1234

[beachbabey]

your instagram but you're married to bob floyd

Liked by h.n.g.m.n, cs_fanboy and 14 others

y/n.floyd: the fratboy pose is kinda hot ngl

view all 12 comments

trace.nat: no, don't de-yassify my boy like that

rooster_bb: dad energy, it's the squint and the trucker cap

-> y/n.floyd: *daddy 👀

-> coyote.jm: she sat right next to me as she wrote this, on military time 😒

liked by ice.ice.kazansky, reubenfitch and 29 others

y/n.floyd: yeah but does your husband send you cute selfies of him at work?

view all 7 comments

r.bob.floyd: love ya honey ;)

cs_fanboy: I send you selfies all the time :(

-> r.bob.floyd: yeah @/y/n.floyd what about our son??

h.n.g.m.n: where's the baby on board sticker I bought you?? 😔

liked by r.bob.floyd, rooster.bb and 34 others

y/n.floyd: but you haven't seen my baby, but you haven't seen my man <3

view all 57 comments

r.bob.floyd: @/trace.nat what does it mean to be 'lana del ray coded'?

-> trace.nat: dw about it 💕

coyote.jm: looking hot rob!!

liked by petemitchell, reubenfitch and 103 others

y/n floyd: still feels like yesterday, love you forever robby <3

view all 77 comments

r.bob.floyd: thanks for making this sailor the happiest man alive, love you baby xx

rooster.bb: the way bob still blushes when you wink at him is kinda cute ngl, but you didn't hear that from me

reubenfitch: my favourite couple

-> trace.nat: literally couple goals 💕

liked by r.bob.floyd, trace.nat and 133 others

y/n.floyd: whos the birthday boy?

view all 53 comments

ice.ice.kazansky: have a good one bobby!

cs_fanboy: birthday boy is currently singing (screaming) suspicious minds in a fully packed bar, wish you were here @/y/n.floyd

-> y/n.floyd: omg please tell me someone recorded it PLEASE

-> cs_fanboy: I gotchu baby <3

reubenfitch: happy birthday, my second favourite wizzo ❤

-> r.bob.floyd: see this is why you weren't invited 😐(jk, love you bro)

liked by ice.ice.kazansky, petemitchell, rooster.bb and 31 others

y/n.floyd: they're holding mav's bike as blackmail for pt training

view all 12 comments

h.n.g.m.n: @/petemitchell just give us a week's break and you can have your precious set of wheels back

-> petemitchell: I'll give you 2 days and you only have to do 25 laps on the field

trace.nat: I can't believe you'd rat us out like this @/y/n.floyd

liked by trace.nat, cs_fanboy and 15 others

y/n.floyd: better hold on tight, spidermonkey

view all 7 comments

coyote.jm: what archive did you full this from?!?!

-> y/n.floyd: freshman year of college, it was his first play 🥰

rooster_bb: west side story??

-> r.bob.floyd: omg how did u know?

liked by petemitchell, h.n.g.m.n and 29 others

y/n.floyd: aftermath of mav's thanksgiving

view all 27 comments

r.bob.floyd: I sincerely apologise to anybody who didn't get to try Penny's mac and cheese, it was just too good

cs_fanboy: he sneaked into the kitchen, i caught him stuffing like two slices of pie in his mouth lmao

-> r.bob.floyd: not cool man :/ i saw you chugging like five glasses of sweet tea

[klbwriting]

Surface Tension

Chapter 8: Shot at the Night

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Orm can't do much to help Y/N but he does find someone who can

Note: song is 'Shot at the Night' by the Killers

Taglist: @hyperagitatedcydonian13 @gabrieleskywalker @philiasoul @duchcess

We’re breaking all the rules To find that our home Has long been outgrown Throw me a lifeline Cause honey I’ve got nothing to lose Once in a lifetime

“Why did you settle by the ocean if you’re so afraid of water?” Orm asked, sitting on the back porch with Y/N, watching the waves under the moonlight. She was strumming, singing one of her songs. He was starting to recognize them by now and he knew she sang this one because he liked it. She looked at him and shrugged.

“I used to love the water, felt free and happy in it,” she said. “I told you I was accused of something that I didn’t do. I do bare some responsibility for it though, even though it was an accident. Ever since then, I don’t want to go back into the water, but I can’t let myself forget that day. Part of me wonders if it was my fault.” She stopped strumming and set the guitar aside, wrapping a blanket around herself.

“Did you want someone to get hurt?” he asked. She shook her head. “Not your fault, you shouldn’t stay here feeling guilty. What I did…I wanted to hurt people, all of the pain I caused was because I was angry. You didn’t have that malice.” He looked at the water before looking down at his hands. She reached out and put her hand on his arm, instantly calming him.

“Do you remember feeling like that?” she asked. “Do you ever feel like that now?” He shook his head. “Have you tried to make things right?”

“Yes, I’m trying,” he whispered. She smiled at him and squeezed his arm.

“You’ll get there, let the guilt go, but keep becoming better. I’ll help you, we are better together,” she said.

Orm startled awake, the memory fading from his dream to his waking nightmare. He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, sometime right before dawn. Last he remembered his mother and Arthur were still there making plans on finding some kind of proof of who tried to kill Orm. The footage was enough to clear Y/N of active treason, but she still could be held for conspiracy. Conspiracy to commit treason was a capital offense in Atlantis and she could still be executed if they didn’t find and get a confession from the culprit.

He was alone now with a note from Arthur that they had left to find proof in Atlantis. Arthur planned to talk to Hendrix and Atlanna was going to talk to Y/N. Orm went over to Y/N’s place. He hated to invade her privacy but maybe she had something. He started searching, trying to ignore that her bed was still unmade from where they had been together, her same clothes from her birthday on the floor around it.

“There has to be something,” he muttered to himself as he went through her closet. He moved some boxes out of the bottom and saw a small door, probably another small storage area behind the wall. He was able to pry it open and inside was a bag. He pulled it out and sat on the floor, looking through it slowly. He pulled out the mosaic of her and her father. It was cheap but well made, a product of the lower city where technology to film wasn’t as widely available. He set it aside carefully. Next came out a flyer for Atlantis for All, listing their goals as equal status, better living conditions, and fairness in the workforce. Orm remembered his father telling him that all those below the nobility were lazy, they just wanted people to hand them money and food without doing anything for it. At the time he had agreed, but this notice listed things that anyone would need to survive and thrive, which is what he thought his father wanted for all Atlantians. He set it aside also and pulled out a stack of papers. This was what he needed, letters to and from different people in AfA.

I work from morning until night, I never see my family, yet they still starve…

My mother died because we couldn’t get her a proper doctor, the nobility never have to worry…

My father died of the sickness King Orvax released when I was a child. King Orvax made me an orphan…

We can fix this. There is a way. King Orm’s coronation is on the first day of the Great Migration…

Here is what he needed. He read through the letter, it laid out a plan to protest, nothing else. They were to have Y/N sing, and Hendrix volunteered to bring the cracker. This was almost enough, but Orm needed something else. Aria was mentioned as one of the leaders of the group. He had to find her; she might have more proof.

Orm wasn’t sure where else to go so he went to the café. It was empty except for Y/N’s friends when he arrived. They were all glaring at him. When he walked in Dean came up and punched him in the face. It didn’t hurt, but Orm wasn’t expecting it and stumbled back a step. Dean was shaking his hand, wincing. He had probably broken a couple fingers. Aria pushed past him.

“Get out tyrant,” she demanded. Orm stood his ground. “We know you did something to her, no one can find her.”

“I didn’t do anything, but Hendrix took her back to Atlantis to face trial for treason,” he said. Aria froze.

“You’re lying, you gave her up,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

“If I gave her up I would be on my way to trial too. I’m a fugitive just as much as the two of you,” he said. “We need proof that Hendrix was the one who tried to kill me. I found a letter in her things with the plan for the coronation day, it says Hendrix was to get the cracker, but we need more than that, anything that makes it sound like he alone planned the attempt.” Aria was breathing deep, trying to remain calm.

“How do we know you won’t just take the evidence and destroy it?” Vincent called out. “What if you want to use her to get yourself pardoned?” Orm didn’t have time for this bullshit.

“Because I love her!” he yelled. “Because she is everything to me and I won’t stand by while they execute her. I can’t go back, no one will believe me if I say she is innocent, I’ll just get thrown in a cell next to her, but my brother is king. If I am able to get proof to him he can set this right.”

Aria watched his speech and nodded before motioning for him to come with her. She lived only a few houses down from the café and she also had a bag full of letters. She kept meticulous records and correspondence, including from Hendrix. Hours later she jumped up.

“I found something,” she said, setting the letter down in front of Orm at her kitchen table. By then everyone had joined them, watching. “This is from Hendrix, the day before the coronation. I think I received it by mistake. I never read it because well, I hated Hendrix and anything he had to say was worthless to me.” She pointed to a spot that clearly incriminated him.

“These people are idiots. They’re going to give me the crown and not even realize it. Tomorrow Orm will be dead and I’ll be king,” Orm read. This was perfect.

“Bless that asshole’s giant ego,” muttered Amanda from the couch. Orm stood and hugged Aria.

“I know you hate me but thank you,” he said. He looked between her and Dean. “I am sorry for the tidal wave, for everything. I was wrong and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it.” He left it at that, hurrying out of the house and calling Arthur to tell him he had proof.

[starsandhughes]

Has there been an incident with Sissy where Trevor had to go all protective bf while they are out at a bar or something?

Not So Happy Birthday covered a bad version of this, so here’s a “good?” version? doesn’t end in a trevor and sissy fight is what i mean by that

———————

“THAT’S MY FUCKING MANS!” you cheered from the stands after trevor scored the game winning goal. you love getting glass seats for ducks games. you liked being immersed in the crowd, and seeing your boyfriend occasionally slamming someone or getting slammed against the boards right in front of you was thrilling.

trevor blew you a kiss during his celly before skating to the bench. the final buzzer sounded, and the team made their way to gibby. you wiggled your way through the crowd to make your way to the locker rooms.

it was a good win; and a good win means that you, trevor, and jamie go out to the bar. you tended to wear your oversized zegras jersey with biker shorts under it so it’s somewhat of a dress. your hair is in braids, you went for no makeup, and you’re just really ready for a night out drinking fruity little drinks and teasing jamie for his lack of abilty to take a tequila shot without making a face.

it wasn’t, however, a good night.

trevor had gotten up to get you a drink, and jamie was in the bathroom, which made you alone at the bar table. this has never been a problem before, so you weren’t expecting it to be a problem now.

a guy slid up next to you in the booth. you tried to be polite, but he wasn’t budging. he placed his hand on your knee and slowly, but forcefully, slid it up your thigh. you grabbed onto his wrist and tried to putt him off of you, but his grip on your thigh intensified.

“my boyfriend and best friend are coming back, so could you please piss off?” you snarled at the man, who did not need the endless details that quinn is actually your best friend.

you tried once again to push the man off, “i don’t think so, gorgeous!”

“hey!”

now, this guy wasn’t taller than trevor, but he was bigger. and let’s face it, trevor can’t fight that well.

trevor grabbed the guy’s shoulder to turn him to face him and he punched him in the face, “i’m pretty sure she said to piss off.”

the guy stood up, and in one swift motion he gave trevor a firm right hook, causing him to stumble back into a table and spill some drinks. that’s when jamie came out and rushed over to you.

“are you okay?” he asked with his hands cupping your cheeks to get you to look at him. you were; you were more pissed than anything that guys do this. you were more worried that trevor was going to get seriously hurt.

your fears intensified when you heard a loud bang of someone falling to the floor, but when you and jamie whipped your heads around, trevor wasn’t the one on the floor. his face was already bruising, and his lip was busted, but he was the one standing.

the bar security was grabbing the yelling and protesting man off the floor to drag him out of the bar, and trevor said he’d go willingly, he’s just waiting on you and jamie. you leaped out of the booth and ran to your boyfriend, grabbing onto his face just as jamie did to you. he winced and turned away a bit.

“we’re gonna need to ice that at home, mr. hero,” you smiled at him.

“i think you should kiss it better,” he pouted at you.

“and i think you’re face is bleeding; let’s go,” jamie interrupted.

you smiled up at your boyfriend and gently kissed under his jaw, where the forming bruises were most evident.

“maybe i need to start an instagram series of how many times you get us kicked out of a bar,” you teased him.

“at least we didn’t end up i’m jail this time!”

[applejuicefruit]

reader going to kylian’s psg match all alone and being attacked by some crazy fans? like psg won and fans went crazy

Yes please I need protective Kylian ⭐️⭐️

Thank you for requesting this! I really hope you like it ❤️

My hero, my saviour

You were a huge PSG fan so when you started dating Kylian Mbappè it felt like a dream. He knew about you being a fan and that’s exactly how you two met. You were attending one of his game a couple of years ago and your friends gave you the VIP pass for your birthday so when you met the team you also met him. The person who became the man of your life. You were happily dating for over two years now and you couldn’t happier. He always wanted you to be at every match and, as a fan, you couldn’t say no.

So today it was the same. The only difference you would have gone to the game with your friends who bought normal tickets instead the VIP section. You didn’t mind but Kylian had to say a lot about it. He wasn’t happy about you being in the standard section so he offered to pay you and your friends VIP tickets but your friends kindly declined the offer, mostly because they weren’t fan of him. They didn’t like him. It didn’t matter if he made you the happiest person on the planet they just couldn’t accept him. You thought it was because they were jealous but going on you learnt that in fact, they were jealous and they were kinda using you for fame. You could have said something but decided to not because they were your only two friends.

So tonight you would be watching his show with the other fans and you prayed they wouldn’t recognise you because you didn’t want to start a drama.

He had a match around 9 pm so you left early to get into the stadium.

You were happy to be back at the stadium, especially for seeing Kylian play.

“I can’t wait to see them play!” you said to your friends that were too busy taking selfie and tagging you, hoping you would repost them so people would watch their IG profiles.

You pretended to see nothing so you went on chanting the songs.

The match started and of course Kylian scored. You were so happy you couldn’t contain yourself. It was an amazing night, you thought. But your friends left you to get “drinks” fifteen minutes before the game ended, leaving you alone but you didn’t mind, you were enjoying the game because PSG was winning.

2-0.

But the magic happened again when Kylian scored his second goal of the night a minute before the game ended.

Then PSG won.

3-0.

But what turned into an incredible and amazing night turned to a living nightmare.

You were happy, of course, but fans around you were more than happy. They kept screaming and chanting and with your friends that didn’t come back you were left there all alone. Panic started rising a bit.

Where the heck were your friends?

You looked for them but you couldn’t find them. You had two options. Staying there, in your seat hoping people wouldn’t do anything stupid or you could leave, go in the parking lot and call for a taxi or a uber since you came here with your friends but they were nowhere to be found.

You opted for the second option.

You wanted to leave.

But the moment you stood up someone came behind you and pushed you down. They probably didn’t mean it but because of the crowd no one saw you falling down.

Now you were really panicking.

You hoped that Kylian saw you but probably he didn’t even know where you were sat.

“Fuck…” you whispered to yourself trying to stand up but someone pushed your legs and now you were hurt.

You were panicking.

Some fans were leaving the stadium making it impossible for you to stand up since they kept moving around trying to get out.

Somehow you managed to stand up and tried to leave the stadium but you couldn’t pass. Your legs hurt and when you touched your head you find out it was bleeding. You were hurt really bad.

You didn’t know how but Kylian saw you. He saw you bleeding. And he went into protective mode.

He started running towards you, jumping the barricade that divided your section and the field. Security behind him but they couldn’t catch him in time.

“Y/n!” he shouted and a huge crowd tried to go towards him

“I’m here…” you said in a low voice, you were hurt, your head kept bleeding and people around you didn’t do anything

“Babe!” he called you through the crowd “stay there I see you!” and in just one second he wrapped his arms around you. Fans kept taking pictures even when he told them if they could move away to let you some space to breathe. But of course, they wouldn’t listen.

“Where are your friends baby?”

“They left probably 20 minutes ago…I looked for them but I couldn’t find them” you sobbed a little

“You’re safe babe” he tried to calm you down but you were fully crying in his arms right now. Partially because you were hurt, partially because you got really scared. You thought you would die in the crowd today.

“You’re bleeding baby…let me get you out here” Kylian said while he walked you in the field, away from the crowd who kept filming and taking pictures.

Kylian was very pissed off.

He was mad because PSG fans were the worst and he knew it, but he still hoped they would have a little bit of pity if they saw someone hurt. He was mad at you because he told you to go in the VIP section, with security. He was mad at your friends because they left you alone. He was mad at himself because he wanted to protect you but he had no idea of what was going on.

He led you into the field and helped you sitting on a bench. Medical staff came right after behind him when they saw you bleeding. His teammates were concerned for you. They had no idea of what happened they just saw you bleeding and got worried.

After you’ve been cured you stayed on the bench for a little while. Kylian sat next to you holding your hand.

“I’m sorry this happened to you…PSG fans aren’t really the best…” he said to you while kissing your hand

“I know it’s just…my friends were there and a minute after they weren’t. I thought I was safe but then everyone started pushing each other so I tried to get out of the stadium but someone pushed me on the ground and I panicked…I should have listen to you” you said sobbing into his shirt while he scratched your head

“What matters now is that you’re okay…luckily you didn’t injured yourself too much…but I got so worried when I saw you bleeding baby…my heart stopped for a minute” he told you and you couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty for making him worried so much

“I didn’t want to make you worry”

“I will always worry about you baby…you’re my priority” he said to you and you smiled a bit “you know what? I’m gonna get changed and then we can go home together” he said to you and you agreed.

You waited in a very safe area while he changed.

He drove you home and you went straight to bed wanting to forget about that night.

But Kylian stayed awake a little bit more and instead of going to sleep he decided to write something about what happened today.

He posted a selfie of you two, your face in his on his chest while you were sleeping and him kissing your bruises on your head. You probably would have killed him the next morning when you would see the picture but in that moment he didn’t care, he wanted his fans to know what happened.

“Very proud of our victory tonight! But very disappointed in what happened after we won. I get it, fans tend to go a little bit crazy when their favorite team wins but celebrating is one thing, hurting people is another thing and that definitely should not be allowed in a stadium where a lot of people go with kids too because someone could get very injured. Tonight, one of the victims was my girlfriend y/n. She got hurt while standing in the crowd and while she asked for help no one came and helped her. I’m very disappointed in you guys, if you were at the stadium and didn’t do anything to help. Luckily she didn’t get hurt bad but still it could have been worse if I didn’t see her while she asked for help. We’re a family and as a family we stand together. I really hope things like these won’t happen again, otherwise actions will be taken.”

He posted the picture and let his telephone charge. He wrapped you in his arms and kissed your bruises again even if you were already fast asleep.

“Good night mon amour” he said and turned off the lights while keeping you close to his body.