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littlerequiem · 3 months ago

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we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 1

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Explicit Content, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Switch Levi (WC: 6.7k)

( Next chapter / WMTS' Masterlist )

The first time you see Levi, whispered-about-thug and recently-enlisted Scout, you think he doesn’t seem as scary as everyone paints him to be. Sure, he has a hell of a glare, but that’s not the thing that sticks out.

No, what is most striking is the loneliness.

How alone he looks, shadows like bruises under his eyes.

Levi is lost.

He’s not lost in the physical sense, of course.

Levi very well knows where he is. He has repeated these words to doctors so many times he’s starting to sound like a broken record: My name is Levi Ackerman. I come from Paradis Island. I live in Marley.

No, Levi isn't lost physically.

Rather, Levi is lost in the ways often described in novels. Those cheap-thrill books Erwin liked to read so much, the kind that ensured suspense and chest-clutching moments. Usually, it involved a character going on a journey and finding the thing they lost.

“It’s all a metaphor, you see?” Erwin once pointed out.

But Levi did not see the point of metaphors back then, and he certainly doesn’t get it now.

Levi was a soldier for most of his life: so that he could aid the fight against titans, so that Erwin’s vision to help humanity could come true, so that Hange would not be alone in shouldering the weight of it all, so that the world would not crumble under Eren’s actions.

Now, three years after the Battle of Heaven and Earth, his body is changed, and his mind… well, that's the thing that’s lost, isn’t it? He’s still sane, he knows that, but… there's ways he feels himself slipping.

The first two years after the Rumbling were by far the hardest. There was so much to rebuild, so much to do. Levi spent most of his time in makeshift hospitals and infirmary tents. Then, there were the refugee camps. People who had lost everything, who were in search of a new home, but who lacked the means to do so (Levi never thought he’d have to witness the sight of starving children all over again).

And then, one day, a new start.

Onyankopon was the one who discovered Mare a year ago. He told Levi that it would be the perfect place to retire from his soldiering days. "Mare," Onyankopon said, "is the town where sky meets the sea."

Levi isn’t sure what to make of that idiom: there’s no such thing as a place where sky and sea connect. Another metaphor, perhaps—another thing that flies right above his head.

But he decided to take Onyankopon's proposal there and then; Levi had been idle for far too long, and there was still fire in him, a will to push on.

To keep going, just as he had in the past.

A month later, Levi moved into his new home.

His one-story cottage is located by the edge of town, overlooking a cliff that descends into sandy shores. It is far enough from the crowds, just the way Levi likes it, while still remaining close to all necessities—just ten minutes away from Onyankopon's home.

Aside from that, everything else is just… strangely ordinary.

Because Levi now has a roof over his head. He has a garden, where he grows herbs. A patio, where he watches sunsets. He gets money from Marley for his so-called war accomplishments (accomplishments is a strange word for murder, he thinks). He sees doctors, all kind of doctors—specialists that didn't exist back on Paradis.

What keeps him going through it all are his routines. Levi has always been a creature of habit, and that much hasn't changed in his new life.

There’s tea, for one. Despite all the special blends available here in Marley, Levi still prefers the tea he drank back in the Underground, made from cheap black tea leaves—over-extracted, with no added sugar. Piss water, Kenny used to call it, and maybe the old geezer had a point. The tea is bitter to its core, much too strong for anyone to stomach (“I’m going to be on the shitter for days after this,” Hange once declared after trying it.). And yet, Levi likes it this way.

There’s his knife, the one Kenny gave him decades ago. Levi still keeps it in his boot or tucked under his pillow. He doesn’t hold it out of sentimentality per say; Levi just doesn’t see the point of throwing it away.

Levi sees his doctor on a weekly-basis, and works part-time at the local carpentry shop. He tries to improve his body on a daily basis, even if his mind fights him hard against it. His leg hurts most days; it’s at its worst when it rains. Over the last year, he’s regained some of his mobility, enough that he can sometimes walk using a cane when his legs aren't too stiff, though most days, he uses a wheelchair. It frustrates him, sometimes, his reduced range of mobility—he misses pushing his body to the limit—but the physiotherapist ensures him that he is just where he needs to be. He feels coddled, and that annoys him.

Then, there are the people in his life. Scarce as they are, they are all that is left of his past and Levi clings onto scraps of conversation where he can find them.

Most of the brats of the 104th are living their own lives. Levi is relieved to see that. When the war ended, he worried that they would linger too much, but they never did. They moved on.

Falco and Gabi, rowdy kids they are, travel from Liberio to see him. They tell him about what they’ve been up to, how Falco is taking flying lessons, how Gabi is part of a youth association that’s going to make Marley a better place, and Levi listens. For Gabi and Flaco love to talk, and perhaps even more than that, they love to bicker. Levi thinks if there’s such a thing as religion, that these gods clearly have a strange sense of humor—making him watch teenagers and their clumsy flirting attempts all over again. But they’re good kids, and Levi looks past their worse transgressions because he knows he’s got a soft spot for them.

Onyankopon is another familiar face—a talkative one at that. Every time the man stops by Levi's house, he brings something new to show Levi. Sometimes, it feels like Onyankopon's on a personal mission to get Levi up to speed with the new world. Coffee, typewriters, vinyl players… there doesn’t seem to be a thing Onyankopon doesn’t want to show him.

All these machines are met with a somewhat lukewarm reception on Levi’s part.

All except one.

Because if there's one invention Levi is inclined to think is useful, even if a part of him equally loathes it, it's the telephone. Onyankopon was ecstatic about it, and his enthusiasm eventually rubbed off on him too. It's not that Levi likes to use it—the sound waves, the grated voices… they remind him of the sound of planes and machines, of war and guns, and that gets his heart palpating to the point where he sweats (because Levi’s learned that with his growing age, his body sweats faster than ever before, so much so that Levi sometimes has to wash twice a day).

But the first time Levi hears a familiar sound—your voice—on the receiving end of the telephone, his breath stops. His clammy fingers tighten around the phone, and he glances at Onyankopon, who only gives him a thumbs up in response, two dimples appearing on his lifted cheeks.

Levi decides then that the telephone might not be so bad after all.

“Levi,” your distorted voice sounds from the other side. “Can you hear me?”

At first, Levi doesn’t know what to say. He’s seen phones, of course; he remembers Hange using them to communicate with Zeke and the Azumito clan. But he never thought he’d use them personally, and that makes his brain go blank.

“Shit, I think I lost you,” you say, the sound of crumbled papers resonating across the line, “Jean, I think the tele-thing you gave me isn’t working properly. Can you—”

“Hey.” Levi’s voice bleeds into the machine, rough like sandpaper. “I can hear you.”

“Oh, good, I thought I wasn’t using this correctly. Gee, isn’t this just unbelievable? Onyankopon promised me he’d work to set up a phone line in your house, I’m so glad it worked! I know these things are costly but, you know, at least we get to talk, even if it’s brief. Of course, I’ll still write you letters on top of that! And hey—Levi, are you still with me?”

He almost smiles. “Yeah, dumbass. You’re the one going on a monologue.”

“I’m just excited! Can you blame me? I haven’t heard your voice in… a long time.”

Levi’s heart jolts in his chest, clinging to the fact that you’re excited to hear him, but mourning the time passed since he last heard your voice. He’s all aware of how long it’s been (347 days, by his account).

“I can’t wait to see you next month,” you add in a lower voice, as if you were trying to whisper into the phone, words only meant for him to hear. It makes them all the more precious. “I’ve… missed you, 'Vi.”

Levi’s throat feels thick at he hears your familiar nickname for him. His mind buzzes with words, words he has long thought about, words he wishes he could tell you.

I’ve missed you too. I want to see you again. Please come back to me.

All things he thinks to himself, but doesn’t say out loud.

Instead, he manages a breathy, “Yeah,” because more feels impossible right now, especially with Onkyankopon so close by.

Besides, he wouldn’t want you to hear those words over a machine. Communication tool or not, it still lacks the physicality Levi desires so badly.

“How are the brats doing?” Levi asks instead.

“Oh, they’re good! Armin cut his hair recently. He looks like a blonde mini-you or err… I suppose he’s taller than you now.” If you were standing by his side, Levi would definitely have glared at you. But you chuckle, oblivious to his souring mood. “Guess he always did admire you a lot; I think he’s learned a thing or two from your leadership style.”

“That so?”

“Yeah, he’s cool. Doesn’t glare at everything that moves like you, though.”

Levi clicks his tongue. “Still haven’t lost your shitty sense of humor, I see.”

“Hey, you always found me funny.”

“I never laughed.”

“But you always found me funny—I could always tell.”

“Delusional thinking can get you a long way.”

“Anyway.” You huff with an indignant tone. “Aside from that, Reiner and Connie have changed a lot too! Reiner is still pining over Historia…”

“Disgusting. She’s a married woman.”

“Yeah… weird, right? I keep telling him to move on, he’s got so much going for him now. But he’s hopeless like that, they all are. Besides that… well, Jean grew his hair! Think he’s secretly trying to impress someone. He’s applying pomade and everything.”

He hears the sound of muffled protest, “I am not, Doc,” blending with your sentence. It is followed by your hearty laugh as you seemingly tell Jean to bugger off.

“That aside, they’re all good. Growing into real adults, you know? It feels like yesterday I was doing their first medical checks... just stupid teenagers. Your old Levi squad, huh?”

The second Levi squad, he wants to correct.

“Yeah, sounds like they’re still a real handful,” Levi mutters.

You chuckle. A comfortable silence follows, one that reminds of old times—you and him sitting in front of the fireplace; him reading his reports, you drawing. The cracking of the phone lines almost sounds like splitting logs now, and Levi feels warmth spread from his lower belly to his torso.

He hears your breath through the phone, like you were leaning closer. “Hey, so… less than a month, yeah? You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I told you already, didn’t I?”

“Because if it’s too much, you can still say no.”

“Adler, I promised I’d take care of you all, and that’s gonna be the case until I’m buried below ground.”

“Don’t speak like that, Levi! It’s morbid.” Levi hears the sound of your laughter again, ringing across the phone line. He wonders if your eyelids are crinkling, the way they always do when you laugh too loudly. “But, hey, thanks. I really appreciate your help, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“I wonder what it is like, your new life.”

“S’nothing special.”

“Sounds to me like you’re still selling yourself short.”

“And sounds like you’re still talking nonsense.”

After a year of not seeing each other, you are finally coming back to Marley.

You are finally coming back to him.

Levi wonders what you will think of all the ways he’s lost.

Section Commander Erwin Smith seeks you out in the infirmary. Says there’s a wound he wants you to check, one he supposedly got during the last expedition.

You don’t tell him that titans don't usually cause hand wounds.

“I have the new recruit’s file here. You might have seen him around. His name is Levi,” Erwin says after some time. You give him a succinct nod. “I’d like for you to keep an eye on him.”

You pause, eyes shifting away from your stitches. Erwin’s gaze is even, clear.

“What do you mean by that, sir?”

Erwin leans back in his chair. “Presently, Levi is flighty and hot-headed. He’s just lost his friends. And he refuses to get a medical check. As it stands, this won’t work—I need to know that his condition is stable to place him on my squad.”

“With all due respect, most of these duties you’ve listed fall outside my medical jurisdiction.”

“I know.”

You raise a brow. Erwin shoots you an eyeless smile. You finish the stitch. Erwin pulls his hand back, admiring your work, then his focus shifts back onto you.

Waiting on your answer.

You finally supply him with one, sighing, “I’ll see what I can do, sir.”

Erwin stands, interlinking his arms behind his back. “I should tell you he’s from the Underground. Will that be a problem?”

“No, sir." You stand up as well. "Though… knowing this, permission to speak my mind?”

“Please.”

“May I ask what’s so… special about him? If rumors are to be believed, you went through quite the trouble to get him.”

“I didn’t think you listened to gossip, Dr Adler.”

“I don’t. But if that wound on your hand speaks for the labors of your efforts… well, I think I have cause to worry.”

A low hum vibrates out of him. “What’s so special about Levi, you ask?” Something lights up across Erwin’s face. The intensity of the pendulum swinging his way. It is followed by the type of smile that makes his eyes crinkle. “I want to believe Levi can change the fate of humanity.”

Today is the day.

The morning shines brightly over the little town of Mare, an endless cerulean that speaks of summer and new beginnings. The sun peaks over the horizon, lingering where the sky meets the sea, a ripple of lavender and peach glimmering over the reflection of the water.

At this time of the day, the wind is at its strongest, a breeze that blows the long strands of grass to one side. Beyond the valleys, there's footsteps dotted across white beaches, only to be ushered out of existence as the waves rolls in.

Mare. Home.

This little town was nothing but fire and dust three years ago. Today, everything has changed. Houses have been rebuilt, trees replanted, and life has begun sprouting again.

Levi wonders what you will make of it.

He spent the first hours of the day cleaning his one-story house from floor to ceiling—a painful undertaking for him, nowadays. The cleaning material stings his bad eye; the positions he has to adopt to clean makes his leg hurt.

But cleaning has always helped to ground him, and that much hasn’t changed here.

Luckily, he wasn't alone in his task.

“Yo, Levi! You ready?” Onyankopon calls out. The man came early to help Levi get the house ready; he’s now come to drive Levi to the train station.

“Yeah.”

Levi grabs his favorite cane, an elegant stick made of thick wood from up north. For the occasion, he’s wearing his nicest navy suit, silver cuff-links, and a matching hat—a gift from you, something you bought him the day the Survey Corps first set foot in Marley. You thought it suited him and Levi’s inclined to agree: he doesn’t look half-bad.

The drive to the train station is uneventful and quiet. Onyankopon asks him if he is nervous, which Levi vehemently denies. His friend just smiles after that with a knowing look like he knows better, but beyond that, he leaves Levi space to gather his thoughts.

Levi is glad of that. He needs the silence to gather his thoughts.

After a year of not seeing each other, he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely.

Will you be happy to see him?

It’s ridiculous, really, all this uncertainty. In all his years as a captain, Levi never stopped to linger on hesitations, on regrets. No matter what it was—grief, rough expeditions, political coups—he trusted Erwin; he trusted his comrades. Levi trusted himself.

That it would be you, now of all times, who makes him this nervous, seems a strange twist of fate. Perhaps it is his growing age that has turned him into a sentimental fool, perhaps it is the knowledge that it is you, perhaps it’s because Levi doesn’t quite know what to do with himself... but Levi feels restless.

It took Levi by surprise, your letter. Three months ago to the day. Can I stay with you, Levi? you'd written. Just for a little while, until I figure out what it is I want to do next.

You were gone for a year, helping the Alliance become delegates of peace, while still updating Levi on everything. Now, Armin and the rest are ambassadors, and Levi no longer needs you letters—he gets to read all about their exploits in the newspaper.

And yet, he's glad you never stopped writing to him. Levi will never admit it, but he’s kept every single one of your letters in a box under his bed.

Yeah, old age has turned him into a real sap.

Following all of this, it was decided: of course you could stay with him. Yes, he would help you. When it came to you, there was little Levi wasn’t prepared to do.

With Falco’s and Gabi’s help, Levi made sure everything was well-suited for your arrival. He purchased a bed, a night table, and a wardrobe. He built you a desk, with the help of his boss at work. All of it was arranged into the spare bedroom of his house.

Levi remembers Gabi teasing him. “Is she your sweetheart, Mr Levi?”

Levi scowled at the teenager. “No.”

“S’just, it’s an awful lot for an old comrade.”

“Shut up, nosy kid.”

But Gabi raised a point. What were you to him, exactly?

Levi doesn’t know the answer to that question, not exactly. He considers all the people he’s cared about in his life, and he still falls short in finding the right word to describe what you are. He cares for you, that much he knows—he’s cared for you for a long time. It isn’t the same care that he feels when he thinks of his mother, of Isabel, of Furlan, but it’s just as deep. Love, some might call it, but Levi has seldom witnessed it, so he doesn’t know what to make of his feelings.

He supposes if he had to label what the two of you are, it’s connected. Remnants of an old system, a memory of a past when all that mattered was reclaiming the Walls. Two survivors who carry the legacy of those who sacrificed themselves for the cause.

Not that defining it truly matters. Levi’s long accepted his role as the one to carry the torch. He has found stability and peace this way.

Only, Levi wants more for you. Even if it means being far away from him.

Yes, it will have to mean being far from him, won’t it? He’s too broken for it to be any other way. He knows that. And yet, it doesn’t stop that tiny wisp of something he sometimes feels in his heart at the thought of you—like air, it fills his lungs, begging to be ignited (if you would choose him, he thinks it might).

But Levi’s life was always that of water, and he knows he will drown you if you come too close, like everyone else he has cared about.

You glance at the injury on his forearm, gushing red. Those damn cadets, ganging up on the new recruit. Erwin’s gamble won’t pay off if everyone else is hostile to his new prodigy.

“Hey. It’s Levi, right?”

Levi’s gaze flickers to yours and you realize it's the first time you're up to close to him. His eyes are striking. Freezing gray, like pale moonlight.

“Who the hell are you?” he mutters with a deep baritone.

You give him your full name. “But I actually prefer to be called by my last name, Adler, if you don't mind.” His face stays blank. You sigh. “Listen, Levi, I don’t want to butt into your private affairs... But I just came to tell you this: any injuries you sustain, just come to me, alright? I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night, or if you have to drag yourself across snow. Because... the only death I accept from a Survey Corps soldier is that of titans. Anything else is unacceptable. Okay?”

"Please. Those cowards were outclassed. They only landed a hit 'cause they played dirty."

"Even so. Don't let that deter you from seeking help," you say. "That said, you have my word. Those cadets will be punished for what they did to you."

“Yeah, whatever.” Levi glances at your hands for some reason— transfixed by the way you press on his wound with a clean cloth. “So, what, you’re a doctor? You heal people?”

Your lips tug into a half-smile. “I certainly try.”

The train groans as it comes to a stop. Levi knows you dislike trains; even on Paradis, when Hizuru helped to install train tracks across the island, you had blanched at the idea of riding in one.

So Levi isn’t too surprised to see you step out of the train carriage on wobbly feet, your face a little grayer than he remembers it to be. He takes a step forward, walking into the smoke hissing from the train, avoiding the throngs of travelers passing by. He removes his hat, just to make it easier for you to recognize him.

As soon as you do, your expression lifts.

That smile.

Levi could see your smile for the rest of his life and never tire of it. He hasn’t seen it in a long time, and it tugs at his heart, like a bird flapping its wings.

That you choose to run towards him—your travel bag swinging against your hip, arms dangling by your sides—is no great surprise. If there is something he knows about you, it is your never ending supply of excitement. It makes him want to smile back, but his mouth slightly parts instead.

“Levi,” is the first word that greets him, that swirls through the air and fills his lungs. You seem to catch yourself just a breath away from him, rooted to the spot in front of him. Levi blinks, wondering if you were about to hug him. But then you dip your head down, coy amusement on your features. “It’s really you.”

Levi swallows loudly. He can hear his heartbeat climbing to his head, and he wonders if you somehow can hear it too.

“Your hair has grown.”

Oh, that.

Yes, his hair has grown, hasn’t it? In the last month, he’s only kept up his undercut; the top is getting longer now. He knows he should get a haircut, but he's experimenting letting it grow.

“It looks good… it suits you,” you tell him.

The coil in Levi’s stomach tightens. He shields his expression by tilting his head and placing his hat back on his head.

“Hey, um…” you let your voice trail off.

“Just spit it out, Adler.”

His peripheral catches a crooked smile. “Would it be alright if…if I hugged you?”

Oh.

That certainly isn’t what Levi expected you to ask. No, Levi feared there might be something wrong with you, or rather with him. But he didn't expect… that.

In his stupor, Levi is too stunned to say anything, so he manages a nod instead.

(He’s grateful you ask before you touch him—you always ask.)

And unlike your earlier display of excitement, full of frenetic energy, your hands treat him with more care. They interlace gently around his back. Levi feels his chest lock as your fragrance sweeps across his brain. The scent can only be described as one thing... Home. Levi grows stiff, not knowing what to do with his hands, so he just lets them dangle along his body. You stay put just for a few seconds longer, and when you break apart, there’s something akin to relief on your face.

Relief for what, he doesn't know.

Your hands linger on his forearms as you take the sight of him fully in like you were committing him to memory. “Just needed to do that. My brain can’t make sense of the fact that you’re really standing in front of me. Like you’re not a figment of my imagination, you know?”

Levi’s gut reaction is to glance down. He doesn’t want to see all the ways you inspect him, all the ways he falls short of the portrait you have of him.

His face hardens and he takes a step back, sheltering himself from disappointment.

“C’mon,” he mutters. “We’ve been standing here long enough.”

“Alright,” you answer in a tone that’s no less bubbly than before. “Show me home.”

As you walk in tandem, away from the train tracks, Onyankopon comes to greet you. He envelops you into a hug where he lifts you off your feet. You chuckle, patting his shoulders, and when Onyankopon’s eyes find Levi’s, there’s a glint in them that Levi swears is speaking volumes of Onyankopon’s thoughts.

A look that seems to indicate: Should’ve kissed her, you damn fool.

Levi promptly ignores that look. Instead, he sets his glare in an altogether different direction.

The walk back towards the car is painful and slow. Levi tries not to let it show, but coming with his cane instead of his wheelchair really was not his brightest idea. He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing sensation shooting up in his leg; his knuckles turn white the more he leans on his cane.

You take notice.

“Is your leg hurting?” he hears you ask.

Levi dismisses your concern with a one shoulder shrug. “S’fine.”

It’s not fine. Levi overexerted himself with cleaning today. The sun is too strong. His leg is stiff.

Despite that, Levi has no intentions of telling you all about that, because you have a tendency to care, to shower him with attention he doesn’t want, and right now, he just can’t deal with it.

You stop right in front of him. “Hey, are you sure? I can—”

“I said it's fine, didn't I?”

Levi's ears are ringing as he steps past you.

Shit, shit, shit. He didn’t mean to snap at you just now. He’s just no good at this, don’t you see? Already five minutes in, and he feels like he fucked up.

(It's like there's poison on his skin; Levi wants to peel it off.)

But you don’t even seem to pay his temper any mind, as you hum and turn to look at the train station’s newsstand instead, allowing Levi to swallow his shame. From the corner of his eyes, he watches as you purchase three lemonade bottles, which you hand out to them.

The drive back is filled with more words than the journey here. Onyankopon and you engage in easy conversation, talking about all manners of things—how the 104th brats are doing, how the world is looking three years after everything that transpired, how Onyankopon’s husband and family are faring.

Levi sits in the passenger seat next to Onyankopon while you sit in the rear. That doesn’t stop you from leaning forward, your hands resting on the head of the seats as you talk (“Put your seat belt on, Adler.” “It’s on!”). Occasionally, your fingers even tap his left shoulder, a heads up for you to point to interesting things you notice outside. Levi tries to ignore the sparking sensation that’s engraved in his skin.

(Sometimes, Levi wonders if your touch is actually electric.)

“What about you, Levi?” Levi feels your attention settle on the back of his head, drilling heat into his nape. “What do you make of your new home? Mare, the town where the sky meets the sea.”

“It’s fine,” he replies. And he means it—the town is just that. Fine. “The townsfolk are nosy, you’ll fit right in.”

You hum. “Consider my interest piqued. I can’t wait to see your new life.”

New life. Is it really?

“I’ve never started over. Not like this,” you continue, tone thoughtful now. “I mean, I suppose I did, once. The last time was when I first enlisted for the Survey Corps a decade ago… phew, that brings back memories. I remember the looks I got from everyone then—they all thought me very strange to enroll.”

“That’s because you were a suicidal maniac, enrolling to save the lives of soldiers who’d soon be titan fodder. Normal civilians usually have safer aspirations, Adler.”

“I’m not sure if you’re one to talk, Ackerman.”

Levi huffs at that. The portrait that flashes through his mind is vivid, as were the words that went alongside them: Him, the gangster from the Underground and you, the crazy doctor crazy. A pair of strange misfits, the Survey Corps' gamble.

Now, you are the only survivors of something long gone.

“Oh, Walls!” You’re gasping at something behind him, and Levi glances up to see what you’ve seen. It’s the sea—all shades of blue and as mesmerizing as ever. “This is where you’ve been living? Your descriptions in your letters do not do this place justice.”

“What? You expected me to turn into a poet?” Levi grumbles.

“No, but look at this—ugh! It’s everything. The valleys! The beaches! The bay! This feels just like…” you let your voice trail off, not finishing off your words, but Levi knows what you meant to say.

This feels just like the way it was when we first saw the sea.

And yeah, Levi sees your point. The sea here truly does glimmer like jewels, the way Armin always described it, and the breeze does carry that scent of salt that feels like it’s cleaning the air out of his lungs.

Just like it felt to witness it the first time.

“This must be what paradise looks like,” you say.

And just as they pass a curve of the road, something new comes into view: between the soft clouds, a flying boat appears—not one carrying weapons, but instead, carrying with it the tale of a youth whose only sin was a passion for flying.

The medical check is done in silence.

Levi is underweight. His lack of sun exposure has left his skin and eyesight sensitive. You prescribe things to help, though you think some ailments might be a lifelong battle.

When it comes to checking his heart rate, however, that’s when you realize the full extent of Levi’s upbringing. Levi undoes his shirt and your eyes take in the cost of his survival—Levi’s torso, marred with scars. Some of them seem recent, while others are old, stretched-out skin that tells you enough.

These come straight from his childhood.

Just how much violence has Levi witnessed in a single lifetime?

“So?” Levi asks, looking directly at you. He leans his weight against the door’s frame leading to your bedroom, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can redecorate if you like.”

“Why would I do that? This is perfect.”

Levi thinks you might be touched, but he isn’t sure—he was never good at reading your more subdued emotions. Anger, sadness, happiness: those, he can read. Everything in between becomes more complicated, especially with his mind trying hard to convince him that all you see is disgust when you look at him.

You continue to step around the furniture of your bedroom, inspecting it like you are discovering details of a new kingdom. Your fingers fumble over the bed frame. “These bed sheets are my favorite color.”

Levi knows. He picked them for a reason.

(He’ll never tell you as much.)

“There’s drawing supplies in the desk drawers,” he supplies.

He hears it then, the way you suck-in your breath, catching it in the back of your throat. He swerves his attention onto you, only to find you fixing the desk with a stupefied expression.

“You remembered?”

There’s bewilderment in your tone.

Why do you seem surprised? Isn’t this the least you deserve? Levi almost says that there is even more—that he has all your sketchbooks from Paradis, that they were recently delivered by his request. But he abstains from it. He thinks it might be too much right now, though whether it’s too much for him or for you, he’s not sure.

Instead, he just replies gruffly, “It was hard to forget.”

You take a step towards him, eyes softening. “Levi, thank you so much.” You gesture at the room. “For all of it.”

Somehow, those words make Levi want to look away. It isn’t that he doesn’t appreciate you expressing your gratitude, but he’s never known what to do with it served on a silver platter. He prefers to ignore it when he can.

“S’not a big deal.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, glancing towards the carpet on the floor. “Couldn’t let you starve on the streets, now, could I?”

“Hah. I don’t know.” You move to the windows, your fingers winding around the beige curtains. Levi wonders what you think of the softness of the material. “You might be underestimating me. I can be very persuasive; I’m sure I’d manage to survive out there.”

“Please. You wouldn’t last a day out there.”

You scoff, feigning offense. “And why not?”

“You’d want to help some poor fucker giving you puppy eyes, and they’d just end up mugging you.” Or worse.

“Well, alright. You got me there.” You glance away, raising your fingers to run along the scar on your cheek.

Levi follows your movements, studying the way your hands conceal your old injury. He wonders if it still hurts, if you forget it is there only to be reminded of its existence when you catch your reflection in the mirror.

It happens to him, sometimes.

“Seriously, thank you.”

The softness of your tone cradles his ears. Levi takes a step back.

“No need to get emotional on me,” he mumbles.

You chuckle. “Still. Sometimes, it’s good to say things out loud.”

“If you say so.”

Levi turns around, fumbling with the handle of the door to swing it open.

But just as he’s about to head out, to leave you to unpack, there's a clear sound comes from the other side. Levi hears that familiar "Meow," before he sees the tabby cat sliding in between the cracks of the door.

“Oh... what's this?” he hears you stutter behind him.

Right. Levi probably should have mentioned this minor detail in his letters.

“Scout,” he supplies, eying the kitten currently rubbing her head against his right leg, a loud prrr vibrating against his calve. Three months ago, the cat was nothing more than skin and bones. Like a rat. Now, she’s healthy again, her limbs growing quicker than Levi anticipated.

“You… you got a cat?”

"Clearly."

"Like a pet?"

Levi crosses his arms over his chest, tapping a rhythmic beat of five counts against his forearm. “Do you need to get your eyes checked or what?”

You ignore his surly attitude, the same bafflement still present in your tone. “And you named him Scout?”

“Her. She's a female cat.”

You look down at the cat for a moment, your eyes wide like saucers. Then, with a low, hushed tone, you let out a strangled, “Walls, you're a cat dad,” before pinching your lips tightly, like you were trying very hard not to burst out in fits of giggles.

Levi’s jaw instantly clenches. “Stop laughing.”

“I wasn’t laughing!”

“You were about to.”

“Yeah, alright, I was about to.” And then, as if saying those words out loud gave you the right to do as you please, you stifle out a snort, shooting up a hand to cover your half-contained laughter.

This time, Levi doesn’t bother hiding his glare.

Paying this interaction no mind, Scout looks at you with a quizzical stare, her big, green eyes taking you in. Just like you, the feline creature is now discovering the new room and the furniture that goes with it, and she now seems to want to understand what to make of the new occupant that is to share this space.

And so, with a last parting mrrp, the cat skitters towards you, her fast steps tiptoeing against the oaken floor. In response, you crouch down, outstretching a delicate hand in Scout's direction.

With a combination of grace and suspicion that only cats are really able to muster, Scout sniffs your fingers, her slit pupils observing your every movement.

Whatever she was looking for must have pleased her, because not a moment later, she lets out a high-pitched mewling sound and rubs her cheeks against your digits.

A smile forms on your lips.

And when you look back up, there’s a sparkle in your eyes that makes Levi’s heart skip a beat. "Oh, she's cute," you coo, scratching Scout's chin. "How old is she?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't ask?"

"I don't speak cat, Adler."

"Oh, right. She didn't have an owner?"

"No. She was alone when I found her."

"Oh."

Levi had found the kitten half-dead under some debris; no one in town knew where she had come from, or how old she was. Most likely, her mother had abandoned her, but it was hard to know for sure.

All he knew is that the kitten had been alone, and that was enough for him to want to help the kitten. Taking her in was only meant to be temporary thing.

And yet, here she still was.

"Well," you interrupt his thoughts, head tilting as you inspect Scout, "I reckon she can't be more than four months old."

Levi lets out a grunting sound, not really knowing enough about cats to refute or agree with your observations. Instead, he half-turns away, grumbling parting words, “I’m gonna make us some tea while you unpack.”

His peripheral catches your hand gently gliding along the cat’s spine. “Your bitter old tea, huh?”

He means to ask if you’d prefer something else, but it comes out all wrong: “Got a problem with that?”

Shit.

Your eyes lock with his.

And your smile widens.

“Not at all. It just feels like being home.”

Levi clears his throat and turns away. Home. Is it really like that?

No, of course, it’s not.

Home doesn’t exist anymore.

And he’s not the same man you once knew.

A/N: This story has been in the works for the last year, and it's been a very precious project for me. This fic seeks to shed some light on Levi's life after the war, with its ups and down - but ultimately, it's a story of love and healing <3 Furthermore, English isn't my mother tongue, so you know the spiel - don't hesitate to let me know if you spot mistakes, but pls be patient!

( Next chapter / Join my taglist )

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fairuzfan · 9 months ago

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The decision to pause deliveries to the north of the Gaza Strip has not been taken lightly, as we know it means the situation there will deteriorate further and more people risk dying of hunger. WFP is deeply committed to urgently reaching desperate people across Gaza but the safety and security to deliver critical food aid - and for the people receiving it - must be ensured. Deliveries resumed on Sunday after a three-week suspension following the strike on an UNRWA truck and due to the absence of a functioning humanitarian notification system. The plan was to send 10 trucks of food for seven straight days, to help stem the tide of hunger and desperation and to begin building trust in communities that there would be enough food for all. On Sunday, as WFP started the route towards Gaza City, the convoy was surrounded by crowds of hungry people close to the Wadi Gaza checkpoint. First fending off multiple attempts by people trying to climb aboard our trucks, then facing gunfire once we entered Gaza City, our team was able to distribute a small quantity of the food along the way. On Monday, the second convoy’s journey north faced complete chaos and violence due to the collapse of civil order. Several trucks were looted between Khan Younes and Deir al Balah and a truck driver was beaten. The remaining flour was spontaneously distributed off the trucks in Gaza city, amidst high tension and explosive anger. In December, the Integrated Phase Classification report compiled by 15 agencies including WFP warned of the risk of famine in northern Gaza by May unless conditions there improved decisively. At the end of January, after delivering food to the north, we reported on the rapid deterioration of conditions. In these past two days our teams witnessed unprecedented levels of desperation. The latest reports confirm Gaza’s precipitous slide into hunger and disease. Food and safe water have become incredibly scarce and diseases are rife, compromising women and children’s nutrition and immunity and resulting in a surge of acute malnutrition. People are already dying from hunger-related causes. A report issued Monday by UNICEF and WFP, based on recent data, finds that the situation is particularly extreme in the Northern Gaza Strip. Nutrition screenings conducted at shelters and health centres in the north found that 15.6 per cent - or 1 in 6 children under 2 years of age - are acutely malnourished. WFP will seek ways to resume deliveries in a responsible manner as soon as possible. A large-scale expansion of the flow of assistance to northern Gaza is urgently needed to avoid disaster. To achieve this, WFP needs significantly higher volumes of food coming into the Gaza strip from multiple routes, additionally, crossing points to the north of Gaza must open. A functioning humanitarian notification system and a stable communication network are needed. And security, for our staff and partners as well as for the people we serve, must be facilitated. Gaza is hanging by a thread and WFP must be enabled to reverse the path towards famine for thousands of desperately hungry people.

I cannot believe this.

#palestine #gaza

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lex-the-flex · 3 months ago

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Eating Him Away

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the likes on everything! This might be my favorite version of Logan tbh. (And I'm aware of the perspective change in this).

The moment Logan laid his eyes on you, he instantly knew he had to keep you safe in the hellscape of the void. You didn't belong here. While you remained the same in Wade's universe, you were dead in Logan's.

Just seeing you alive and thriving meant the world to him. It made him want to worship at your feet.

From the moment you were captured by Cassandra Nova's men, he didn't let you out of your sight. Even to the point when you woke up tied up to him. Having your lips just inches from his made his heart race beneath the yellow suit.

"Hi." You whisper.

"Hi, darlin'." He replies low enough for Wade to miss.

"What happened?" You ask, looking around in the circular cage.

"We got captured and you fell asleep." Logan states.

A sly smile appears on his chapped lips and you glance down at them, only to feel embarrassed seconds later.

"You two gonna kiss or what? The suspense is killing me!!" Wade rebuttals from his spot on the floor.

"Leave them alone, Wilson. This is the most peace I've had in five years." Johnny interrupts.

"If I were too, it definitely wouldn't be with you in the same room, asshole." Logan answers, restraining his claws from coming out.

Feeling your brows scrunch together, your next words become hitched in the back of your throat, unable to come out. Glancing back at you, you can't help but look away, not wanting to give Wade anymore fuel to the kindling.

Following in Logan's direction, he leads you and Wade to an old and forgotten diner. Opening the door, the three of you step inside, and Logan keeps sniffing the air every few seconds.

"What are we doing here?" Wade asks.

"I smell food. Besides, I can hear Y/N's stomach growling from a mile away." Logan replies, already searching the cabinets for any kind of food.

Standing the middle of the diner, Logan almost instantly finds the jackpot: three cans of Spam. Tossing one to Wade, he joins you, and hands the second can to you. Touching his fingers with your own, you forgot how much his touch had on you. And it was the exact same for you.

"Thank you." You say, cracking the tin open.

Taking a few minutes to fill your empty stomachs, Logan can't seem to stay still. Knocking over countless bowls, cups, and other dishes, he frantically searches the tiny fridges and cabinets for something. Coming up empty, he furiously punches the stainless steel fridge, causing both you and Wade to jump.

"Fuck!" He shouts.

"What are you looking for?" Wade asks, recovering from the quick shock.

Discovering a small First Aid Kit below the register, Logan quickly opens the aluminum box, and finds two tiny bottles of rubbing alcohol compound.

"Oh, shit." He blurts out.

Walking towards you with the two blue and white mini bottles in his hands, both you and Wade begin to protest.

"No, no, no, no, that's rubbing alcohol. You don't want to drink--" He starts.

"Logan, please don't--" You advise.

But your words fall on deaf ears as he chugs the first bottle in one big gulp. Sighing in relief, Logan subconsciously leans closer to you before rolling the other way.

"Fuck that liver." Wade jokes.

Feeling ten times better, the three of you return to your quick snacks, and you take one of the empty seats at the counter. Glancing over to you, Logan can't help but admire how good your suit looks on you. The dark grey and green set of robes compliment every part of your body, from your hips to the tips of the combat boots.

Noticing this, Logan's light hazel eyes reflect off your e/c orbs, staring into his soul. Having this other version of you in the same room with him was eating away at him.

Standing from his spot at the booth, Logan walks up to you and takes you by the hand.

"Come with me." He orders.

Leading you into the back of the diner, you don't ask any questions, you just follow right behind him. Closing the office door behind you, you turn around to face Logan.

"Logan, what are you--?" You start, but you don't get very far.

Pouncing on you, Logan holds either side of your face, and frantically places a much needed kiss to your lips. Passionately moving his lips against your own, you let go of resisting and melt into him.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, Logan picks you up from your hips and gently sets you down on the desk. Guiding your legs around his waist, you run your fingers through his short brown hair. Moaning into your mouth, Logan longed to kiss you again. Just to have you in his arms once more made his heart soar.

Breaking the kiss, he leans his forehead against yours.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting to do that?" He declares.

"Too long?" You ask.

"Too long. It's been eating away at me." Logan repeats.

Hearing Wade knock at the door instantly kills the mood and Logan groans in disappointment.

"As much as I'd like to watch you two fuck, we really have to get going." He says through the door.

Holding your chin, Logan brings you to face him.

"Wanna grab a drink when all of this is over?" He asks.

"I'd love too." You reply with a shared laugh.

wolverine taglist ~

@dreamliners

@miss1sarcasmo

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

@foursthemagicknumber

@quillycrow

@till-hes-90

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cy-cyborg · 1 year ago

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Tips for drawing and writing amputees: The prosthetic needs something to hold onto

Prosthetics need to be able to hold on to the body.

If you're giving your amputee something similar to 99.99% of modern prosthetics, this will be done through a socket. This is a ridged cup made perfectly for the amputee that holds the prosthetic onto the body. Older prosthetics (mostly anything before the 90's) made the prosthetic socket intentionally tight in spots, which is what held it in place. Some people with sensitive skin still use this style of prosthetic but they've mainly fallen out of use in favour for suction sockets. These sockets create a vacuum seal that holds the prosthetic in place. These can work in two ways, either just by forcing excess air out of the socket and creating the seal that way, or for some legs, sucking that excess air out and into an "ankle" mechanism to offer some extra suspension and padding in the step.

Some prosthetics will also use additional measures as well as suction, such as pin-locks, where the amputee wears a sock with a screw at the bottom that clips into a mechanism at the bottom of the socket, or a prosthetic with movable panels that can be tightened via cables running through the socket.

I've used all of these except the pin lock socket, and they all have one thing in common: The sockets need as much space as possible. For prosthetics using suction in particular, this is to spread out the amount of force being applied to the leg. If all the suction is being applied to the end of the stump, it's going to get sore and could even damage the skin. If that same amount of suction is applied to a much wider area, it's going to feel less intense. Likewise, older prosthetics needed as much space to work with as possible too, as applying tight pressure to a small area as opposed to a larger surface to keep the tension isn't good for your skin or muscles in that spot.

For this reason, the sockets will take up all of the space available without limiting movement, meaning they will go all the way up to the next major joint. An amputee who lost their hand through the wrist will have a socket that goes all the way to their elbow. An amputee who lost their leg through or above the knee will have a socket that goes all the way to their hip.

Sometimes, if an amputation is particularly close to a major joint and there isn't a lot of space left between the stump and the next major joint, prosthetists will opt to immobilise the closest joint and take the socket all the way up to the next major joint. This was something I've actually discussed with my prosthetist. My left leg is amputated below the knee, but I only have a few centimetres of space below the knee. That leg occasionally needs revisions, meaning they take the very tip off of the stump to help correct issues with weird bone growth, scarring, infections etc, but if I get another revision, my leg will be too short to comfortably wear a socket, so my knee will need to be immobilised and my leg will become, functionally, an above knee amputation, despite still having the joint. This is rare, but it happens on occasion, showing that sometimes that need for space trumps even the use of a still functional joint. It's really important.

I wanted to bring this up because I see a lot of people draw sockets on their amputee's prosthetics, but they're much too tiny to be comfortable!

I did mention most prosthetics use a socket, but not all do. Some old prosthetics did not have sockets and were held in place using other methods.

This is a "prosthetic" my prosthetist found in his company's back room. He's not sure when it was made, but together we came up with an estimate of it being made around the 70's for a through-hip amputee (meaning someone who's whole leg was amputated with no stump at all)

It's designed so that the user would rest their hip on the cushion and use the handle to hold it in place and move it in time with their walk. This kind of mobility aid isn't often used anymore (me nor my prosthetist have seen one out in the world), and seems to have faded in use during the 80's as sockets were invented that could better hold onto the hip and pelvis for through-hip amputees and the use of wheelchairs for amputees became less stigmatised.

There's also A new type of prosthetic has been developed called the Osseointegration prosthetic, which also doesn't use a socket either. These are very rare as they are incredibly expensive and still very risky, but these prosthetics bypass the socket and implant the prosthetic directly into the body through a rod planted inside one's stump bone. This rod has a clip at the end of the stump, so the external part of the prosthetic can be removed as needed (and replaced). The reason they are risky though is that they are EXTREMELY prone to infection. I only know one person who had this implanted successfully, but he has to be very careful to keep his leg clean or else it will get infected (and it frequently does, he's constantly on antibiotics). Everyone else I know who got it had to get it removed.

With time these implants will get safer, but we are a very, very long way off from that right now.

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silhouetteonpaper · 17 days ago

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Late

Summary: Wanda was supposed to come back from her mission hours ago. She was never this late, and you were beside yourself with worry. When she finally shows up, something completely unexpected is waiting for you... Wanda Maximoff x Reader WC: 961 Warnings/Themes: fluffy! A/N: Because of everything going on, I thought a cute lil fluffy fic was in order. Enjoy, I love you all, please take care of yourselves! <3

The phone rung 6 times, each trill sending another wave of anxiety through you as you waited for the person on the other end to pick up. Voicemail. The woman’s voice instructing you to leave a message quickly silenced as you hung up. You’d called Wanda five times, texted her seven, and even paged her work device. There was no response.

She had told you she’d return from her mission this morning, but the sun was now setting and your worry was increasing. It was unlike her to get back from a mission this late, at least without prior warning. You would usually receive a ‘running behind’ message or a quick phone call alerting you when she would be back. But this time, twelve hours had passed with no communication.

You didn’t usually worry a whole lot when Wanda was on regular missions, because the team was usually by her side. This time was different, though. She had to go solo, leaving you extremely on edge at the idea of her not having backup. Wanda was more than capable of handling herself, but you knew the dangers of not having agents around when things went south.

Not to mention, she had already been gone for a week—you missed her dearly. After having been together for over a year, you had gotten used to having her around with the occasional mission here and there. This one was extra long, forcing the suspense of her solo excursion to only build as you waited.

In your impatient and concerned state, you turned to the nearest team member at the compound to pester about any details concerning your girlfriend. “Tony,” you strolled into the kitchen, your victim occupied with making an evening cup of coffee. “Any updates on Wanda?” It wasn’t the first time you asked him about her mission today, and he had the same answer as before.

“Nothing yet, but I promise you’ll be the first to know.” He shrugged, his lack of concern almost infuriating. Why weren’t they doing everything possible to make sure she was alright? Why hadn’t they sent in a team of agents for backup already? You sighed out of frustration, leaning over the counter as you felt your heartbeat race.

Tony abandoned stirring his coffee to glance at his phone, a single notification buzzing on the marbled counter. He glanced at you, quickly typing something out; you were too caught up in your anxiety to notice. “Actually,” He started, your head popping up. “Wanda should be arriving out front any minute.” You released a deep breath out of relief, but not all worry was lost. Was she injured? Would she be in terrible shape? Tony could see your increasing concern, so he offered you a new option. “You can go wait for her on the tarmac.”

You offered him a quick smile before running down the halls of the compound, through corridors and rooms all the way out to the front of the building. The cool night air soothed your irregulated temperature, each soft gust of wind aiding you in taking another breath. But instead of seeing a jet landing on the tarmac, something completely different was spread in the grass right in front of you.

Wanda—unharmed and content, was sitting on a blanket with candles filling the center; scattered among them was a bottle of wine and some baked goods. You froze, watching her grin form as she stood. “Hey,” She sounded so calm in comparison to your freak out only a moment ago. “I’m sorry about all of that… I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

You met her gaze, eyes wide with disbelief. Instead of getting mad, making her feel even worse for how much she made you worry, you jumped into her arms. You didn’t care if she ignored your texts and calls all day, you were just happy to see her. Wanda chuckled, wrapping her arms around you tightly in the excitement. You could finally take a real deep breath, fully relieved now that you were in Wanda’s arms.

Pulling away, she watched as you admired the picnic she worked diligently to set up. “How did you…? When did you get back?” You questioned, unsure how she pulled this off. Her eyes wandered as she evaded admitting her plan.

“I got back late, I really did,” She placed her hands on your hips, keeping you close. “I felt bad and wanted to set up something special. But I knew it would be hard to surprise you once you saw I was home.” Wanda’s explanation made sense, it was sweet really. You didn’t mind that she wanted to surprise you, you were only worried something went wrong.

“Wait,” You suddenly remembered your interactions with the team throughout the day, how they brushed off your questioning like it was nothing. “Was everyone in on it?” Wanda smirked, nodding as she admitted guilt. Of course everyone was in on it, they’d never be so relaxed about a stranded agent. If only your anxiety hadn’t clouded your judgement, maybe you would have been able to pick up on their sneaky planning.

“You were worried sick, weren’t you?” Wanda cooed, moving her hand toward your cheek. You chuckled, pulling her in for another hug.

“If only you were here to see. I’m just glad you’re here now.” You stated, letting her guide you onto the blanket. She had prepared a large spread of delicious looking treats, from the brownies to the cupcakes to the array of chocolates. You dug in, occasionally glancing up at Wanda to exchange a smile or even a kiss. Under the deep blue blanket full of stars, you were happy to be back home with Wanda in the comfort of her arms.

#marvel #mcu #marvel fanfic #the avengers #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader

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oneofstarkskids · 1 month ago

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memories

dick grayson x reader

genre: fluff

summary: when dick gets hurt, he knows exactly who to go to. the only person he ever really feels safe with.

requested by @daughterofposeidonsblog

the gotham city street noise was like a background ambience as you read your mystery novel.

it was getting far too late to be awake, but the turn of events had your nerves all bundled.

the suspense was killing you and you were so engrossed that you hadn't noticed the man in your window until it was too late.

the glass squeaked as he slid it shut, causing you to flinch and snap your head in his direction.

"oh my god, you almost gave me a heart attack," you said before sighing shakily.

you heard him laugh softly, though it sounded more like a grunt.

that wasn't good.

the dim light from the lamp wasn't nearly enough for you to see what kind of shape he was in. you almost wished you hadn't.

you stood up to turn on the overhead light and finally took in the full extent of his injuries.

cuts. scrapes. bruises. stab wounds. you name it. and by the sound of his breathing he must've had a couple broken ribs to top it all off.

"what happened," you asked, making your way towards him and trying not to show your panic. you knew that if you did, he would just brush it off and act like he was fine.

"it's been a pretty bad night," he joked with a laugh that couldn't hide the glossiness of his eyes.

you furrowed your brows and tried to move quickly.

he threw an arm around you and limped towards the couch you'd just been snuggled up on.

you carefully tried to lay him down, "don't move."

dick watched as you left the room and came back moments later holding the necessities. a first aid kit, alcohol wipes, gauze, and stitches just in case.

he trusted you. you'd done this enough times by now.

you pulled your hair back before squatting down by his side. "i need you to take your shirt off," you said plainly.

dick grinned, "thought you'd never ask."

you shook your head. how could someone be so cocky in this state.

he lifted his torso a bit as you helped him get out of the tight spandex. his chest was covered in a sheen of sweat and though he was littered in bruises, you couldn't help but stare.

"like what you see, darling?" dick asked with a smirk.

you cleared your throat before getting to work on some of his surface level cuts. you hated the way he hissed and winced every time the cold alcohol came in contact with his skin.

and then of course there was a nasty stab wound in his leg that needed immediate attending to.

he shook his head.

"dick grayson! I am not letting you bleed out on my couch!" you told him.

he couldn't argue with you if he tried, so he squeezed his eyes shut. there was no way he could watch.

you reached for his leg and felt his hand grip your shoulder for support. the little affectionate action made you smile a bit before you stitched him up.

finally, you wrapped some bandage around his leg to hold it all together.

as you began cleaning up, his head fell back against the couch. chest heaving. he was staring up at the ceiling with more than exhaustion.

behind all the jokes and the flirting, there was something deeper. something he wasn't telling you.

you reached for his hand, "are you okay? you know you can talk to me, right?"

those beautiful blue eyes met yours. there was a sort of sadness in them. a bit of fear.

"tonight had me thinking. in my line of work...a lot of people die," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat.

you stood up before sitting next to him, careful not to hurt him. you turned his face towards yours to look into his eyes, "you're not going to die."

dick's face scrunched with agony, "not me. you. what if you get hurt. or worse..."

you shook your head, "i'm not going anywhere either."

dick nodded half-heartedly, "i guess I'm just saying...please don't ever become a stranger who's laugh i could recognize anywhere."

you gently lean your forehead against his, "not a chance."

he closes the distance between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours and pulling you even closer with a hand behind your neck.

and you held onto him too, like holding onto the memories.

#Spotify #dcu #dc fanfic #dc fluff #dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson fluff #angst #fanfic #batfam

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starshipsofstarlord · 10 months ago

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Modern!Nat Being Your Dealer

summary - natasha romanoff is your dealer, and you go to collect your order, however you seem to have forgotten something important… though there is another way that you can pay for your addiction (2.1k)

warnings - 18+ minors dni, smut, oral (female receiving), fingering, drug dealing, sex in place of payment, swearing

natasha romanoff works other mcu works masterlist

Everyone struggled in life, and once in a while they needed a little help. There were many ways people went about that, some people went to therapy, others enjoyed a good book, others listened to waves that had been recorded for that specific purpose. But none of those spectacles of aid made you feel any better.

And thus you had turned to substances instead of white noise, specifically one that was more common and less harmful - weed. A large majority of the population did it, and it was nothing to be ashamed about, it just made you unwind from the trauma that skulked in the darkest parts of your mind and coaxed you into a resting state of sleep.

Unbuckling your seat belt, you climbed out of your beat convertible, locking the vehicle behind yourself as you strode towards the locked hinges of your e of dealer's door. It felt suspenseful every time that you came here, knowing that it could be your last if your supplier was overturned by the forces for her illegal actions actions, and you wouldn't exactly be ignored pu so for purchasing from her.

But everything looked crisp and normal, just the way you liked it. Quickly as to not avert any attention you shot Natalia, the Russian importer a text letting her know that you had arrived to the destination where she handled business. It felt like a lifetime as you awaited for her to open the door and usher you inside, and once she unlocked the barricade of privacy you felt like you were hit by a brick.

It didn't matter how many times that you had seen the astoundingly attractive redhead, you always felt as though you were experiencing whiplash from being greeted with her appearance. It was an unruly kind of magnetism that she styled herself with, her lipstick was blurred subtly past the lines of her actual lips, her short bob was twisted with curls that she had no doubt patiently toyed with as she sat there, looming behind the frosted windows for her buyers.

And you were no more than another one of them, you had to remind yourself, even as slithered past her, both of your breasts briefly brushing as she allowed you entry before she followed your footsteps to the main room after bolting the door shut to as it had been. As usual you took a seat in the dusty and quaint living area as usual, her taking place opposite you as she disgustedly brushed specks off the fabric arm of the chair.

"I don't live here if that's what you're wondering." She smirked, making it undoubtedly clear that her tastes were too clean to permanently reside in a place like this. "So I'll take it you're picking up the usual?" It was the safe assumption on her part, there was no kindness in coaxing you to spend more on the grams of freedom that she rationed out for a price. Not to mention, with spare product there would no doubt be another soul that was prepared to take it off her hands.

"Yeah, please." A curt nod had the woman lounging her body to stretch so that she could pick up the complimentary medicine that she had self prescribed you for. The normal amount was visible through the small and clear baggy that carried the goods, and you immediately rushed to find the notes that would allow you to proceed in your pockets. But they were gone. Shit. This was the last thing that you needed after the day that you had endured with the whispers of thought that clouded your brain.

Panic settled over you, and thus with a dry mouth it was with wise decision that you chose to speak up. There was no point beating around the bush, after all this was your first slip up when it came to this, and you prayed to every ethereal being that it would be the last. "I seemed to have forgotten to put the cash in this jacket, would it be okay if i were to come by later to collect again?" It was embarrassing really, there was nothing that screamed being newer to the scene of all this mutual transaction than forgetting the payment.

"Trial and error one would say." Nat slouched back, dropping the bag mockingly in her lap so that you could see. "The problem is I'm not available for business later." So stupid, you thought to yourself, insulting yourself because she wouldn't for your blatant and misconducted dumb foolery. It certainly may have ben a mistake, but you were no doubt paying for it because you could not pay for what you had really wanted. With a gulp of apologetic waver of disregard, you stood on your two feet, eyeing the door as your escape.

You were just about to begin walking when the red headed conductor silenced all movement your body was ready to perform. "Uh, uh, uh." The noise of scolding that she proclaimed towards you made your heart beat a little faster, afraid that she was going to refuse future service to you altogether. However much you dreaded what she was going to say, you politely listened, intending to remain on her good side. "If you have time to spare, I don't mind being paid in other ways..."

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand what you mean." Maybe it was plain obliviousness to Nat's ultimatum of a suggestion, or perhaps you didn't quite believe your body's instinct to the prowess in her eyes that made your spine coil in a retrograde of quivering arousal, but you avertedly decided to play it dumb. She stood, and strode towards you like a vixen, her wide eyes scorning every inch of your vessel, humming contentedly to herself.

"Don't be so naive little y/n," her tongue peeked out from her mouth, swiping languidly across her plump bottom lip. "You'll still be a respectable woman, you'll just have to respect me too... in an intimate way." Thinking to yourself, the hunger that ran through your veins which yearned for the intoxicating compulsion of the confident redhead was strivingly eager, and the addictive stock that sold, was endless.

"W-what did you have in m-mind?" You wanted some clarification before you drowned yourself in an action that could exempt you from her clientele, even if she had been explicit, only leaving the details of prolific actions out from her spoken equation. The thumping of your heart beat within your ears, running through your bloodstream that was declining from a subsidised high, as you ogled curiously at the the woman with priceless leverage.

"We all have things we want y/n," she admitted vaguely before going into detail, "and I, in exchange want you to give me an orgasm." Her hands rubbed soothingly up your arms, her skin surprisingly cold upon your flesh. She could sense your nervousness, it was openly apparent as you shivered for both her touch and the calming rush that would absorb itself into your form.

"Okay." You spoke meekly, withholding how eager you were to persevere provocatively towards the mysterious woman. A coy smile weaved its route upon her defining features, causing your walls to flutter obscenely below where they were dressed. You'd always thought that you would be above soliciting yourself in exchange for anything, but it proved to show that you could never be certain on an agenda until you came to the crossroads of it.

Your tongue poked outside of your mouth, nervously grooming the indents and crevices at the corner of your lips, preparing yourself for what Natasha was expecting. It made you realise how little you truly knew about the woman before you, the name that she had given you to address her by may have all been a hoax, to conceal her identity from any enforcers whom bought the stronger stuff from ratting her out to the feds.

But in the predicament that you had stumbled obliviously into, you needed to be nothing more than acquainted, it wasn't love, it was just business derived from the figments of pleasure, and whilst you were allured by the pros and cons that weighed argumentatively in your mind, you couldn't help but give this instance a block from your overthinking mindset. "I'm glad to hear," she conveyed, causing a deep laughter within her chest to be released as she noticed how tense that you had become.

She liked to see you squirm, she had decided. And perhaps next time you would forget payment again, of course she wouldn't mind if your skills were up to her standards of course, and if they weren't, she would unshackle the bedroom nerves that you were enduring with her own set of amorous control. The air hung thick between the both of you as she strolled casually back towards the seat that she had already claimed prior to your arrival, sitting down and spreading her clothed legs wide.

"Come here, and make me cum." Her instructions were far too persuasive, and you couldn't refrain from doing as you were told, willingly you fell to your denim clad jeans, watching intently as Nat unbuttoned her own trousers. "I don't even need to tell you what to do." She verbally observed, pushing down the layers covering her bottom half, including her lace designed panties. Her actions served you with the view of her core, and the sight made you salivate.

A part of you felt dirty, but you procured it in an encouraging way, as this was exactly how she wanted to see you. The position that you were in made warmth flush between your legs, even more so when her drug dealing hand swept into your hair, pulling your face closer to her cunt with the harsh grip that she had. You glanced up to watch her lust drowning eyes, before you entangled your lips with her lower ones, tasting her juices on your tongue.

You ran your tongue up her slit a few times, testing the waters before you suctioned your lips around your clit, sucking on the nerve filled bud, her body being devoured by heavenly sensations. "Fuck me." Her breath cast the words out as her emerald irises became obliterated by the bleakness of her pupils, and in a way you were, and to fuck her further into the pleasure that was flooding her veins, you raised your dominant hand, tracing your fingers around her slick entrance.

With integral driven lust, you pushed one of your digits inside of her, her hand weaving tighter within your locks, and forcing your face further into her cunt. You were amidst in an overwhelming sense of reality, as you hollowed your cheeks so that you could put more pressure around her clit. Her mouth gaped open as she leant sporadically in her seat, her hips bucking into your jawline as her legs wrapped around the back of your head.

Pumping your fingers at a quicker pace, you could feel her walls contracting around you tighter, and her moans evoking to a higher pitch. Her sounds echoed around the room that was in need of more furniture, and you knew that she was getting close, and so you continued on with your actions, daring to enter another finger inside of her, which made her reach her breaking point. Her lips floundered in a silent scream, as she came around the fingers that you had stuffed inside of her.

You continued slowly with drawing out her orgasm, before you pulled back and allowed breath to be inhaled through your mouth, removing your fingers so that you had the opportunity to lick them clean. After a few minutes passed, she unravelled her legs from how they had been pressed around your skull, deciding to sit up straighter, as she glowered at you, returning to her formal confirmation.

Silently she slid her underwear and bottoms back up her legs, leaving her fly open as she watched you stand before her, almost desperately. She was almost convinced to return the favour, but that wasn't what it was, instead it was payment, and she had the professionalism to an extent to make that clear. "Pleasure doing business with you again. Here's what you wanted." She threw the baggy at you, and surprisingly to yourself, you had caught the clear packaging that was filled with your goods.

In all honesty you had forgotten all about the weed, you had fallen into a spiral of delightful passion, and you could still taste her on your lips. Now it felt awkward, she was awaiting for your departure without a doubt as she expectedly nodded towards the door. "Uh, thanks." You fumbled with the bag, finding yourself to forget your money again, with purpose, the next time that you visited her to collect.

#natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff oneshot #nat x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #black widow x female reader

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41-kiraraaa · 1 year ago

Text

ᥫ᭡. 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫

⤷ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.: yandere dragon!dan heng x reader

⤷ 𝐭𝐰.: yandere behavior, possessiveness, obsessiveness, isolation/imprisonment, slight blood/gore

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬.: dan heng has his draconian transformation aboard the express with you to watch over him. his desire for you had finally made him snap, and, now, there was no escape from your mate.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊

whenever trailblazing wore you out, you could count on dan heng to make sure nothing strayed too much out of order.

his constant watchfulness over you, march, and the trailblazer was nothing if not helpful and convenient should anything ever go awry, which it has, too many times in the past, but in your downtime on the express, you just wanted to be away from his scrutinizing, assessing gaze. you also didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, another person to worry for, and the thought of spending some time by yourself, without the presence of the other crew members, drew a sigh of relief from you.

you had promised yourself moments of rest after the stellaron mission in belobog, no matter how fleeting. with kafka and the stellaron hunters getting involved and sending the express crew to the xianzhou, you wanted to savor every moment you could in solidarity before you had to aid welt, march, and the trailblazer in their mission to seal the destructive core.

what you hadn’t expected, however, were the muffled sounds of pain coming from past march’s room and straight from the archives, where dan heng’s voice had echoed out in agony.

it hadn’t been long after the express was docked, and you rushed out of your room to make sure that your companion was unharmed.

after skidding to a halt at the doorway of dan heng’s makeshift room, you hurried past the open door, where himeko was bent over dan heng’s silently whimpering form, looking concerned.

when she noticed your entrance, her eyes flitted to you and she nodded, motioning for you to come over. you obliged, suspense and adrenaline racking in your system as you hunched over dan heng.

you’d thought that your eyes had deceived you when you had run through the door, but it seemed that the flash of green was indeed an extension of dan heng.

what you had glimpsed before when you were rushing in was a tail, whose fluffy tip was now pattering against the floor in obvious distress. what you hadn’t seen before, however, were his horns.

also a green hue, they extended upwards proudly, akin to branches of coral. they still seemed to be growing, as noted by his light breaths and whimpers of pain as you thought you imagined them coming up to be a little higher every time you blinked.

immediately you took charge, knowing that he would need a more comfortable place to be situated in, and you didn’t think that intruding on himeko’s space would please her all that much.

“i’ll take him back to my room,” you informed her, not realizing that you were too shaken by this whole ordeal until you heard your voice waver.

she gave you a nod of affirmation and, before you knew it, dan heng was on the edge of your bed and you were out of breath from helping himeko carry his deadweight. you tried pushing him to the middle of the bed for maximum comfort, and to minimize the risk of him falling off, but gave up when he didn’t budge and, instead, made the bedsheet wrinkle.

sighing, you turned back to him for a moment to check that everything in your room was orderly and that the door was closed after lugging him inside, which it was, but then a sudden weight came crashing down on you and you collapsed with a choked shout of surprise.

on top of you was the body of human, yet devoid of warmth, like a reptile. the pants and low growls resonating in your ear were most definitely human—the voice of an irreplaceable person in your life.

“d-dan heng!?” you exclaimed, trying to push yourself up, already in a plank and ready shake him off and book it for the door, but his weight and power pressed you down until you were flat against the ground, panting for air.

“you’re mine,” dan heng whispered, his voice husky and low and his breath hit against your ear. your breath caught in your throat at his proximity, and your struggles renewed as you pushed your back upward to try and shove him off.

a swift, unexpected bite to your throat ceased your struggling, and you lay limp on the floor at the pain that blossomed. the weight on your back was lifted off of you for a moment, but you couldn’t escape with your senses hyper-focused on the wound on the most sensitive part of your body.

dan heng was staring intently at your back, his objective dark, and, you couldn’t see it, but you could feel the desire emanating from his possessive, lustful gaze. your skin crawled with gooseflesh, and you gulped slightly, as unnoticeably as you could manage.

he dipped downward sharply soon after though, absentmindedly lapping at the blood streaming down your neck before it could reach the ground. it was too precious to waste, you were too delectable to pass up.

dan heng had thought that his feelings would be hidden from you forever, the desire to lock you away from the universe and have you safe from harm’s way. unfortunately, the life of a trailblazer was seldom easy, and you met life’s challenges with courage, even when your qualms and fears had a grip on your heart.

he always went out of his way to make that your life wasn’t being threatened, even when it seemed impossible. he was your shield, his cold, unyielding personality your preservation.

he needed to make sure that you had placed your trust in him fully, first and foremost and no one else.

if he was immovable, then what was there to threaten you? what was there to deny him from what he had kept himself from for so long? he craved you, ached for you, longed for you, but never showed an ounce of it through his words or actions, for fear of your rejection, of society’s caution around his amplified desire for you, strong enough to harbor hatred and murderous intent for anybody who so looked at you the wrong way. looked at you at all, even.

now though, he was finally discarding those frivolous thoughts of his concealment of desire for you, his draconian side emerging. after all, it was only normal to want your lover in every way, right?

his present, human, morally ambiguous but restrained side was miles away, the tsunamis of desire crashing into oceans of want and possessiveness making him realize that he wanted this so badly that he would die if he was without you for another moment. even blinking was made scarce, absorbing your ethereal, once ephemeral, form in to fully appreciate you in ways he couldn’t before.

his stone-cold, deadpan exterior had finally given way to his true self, more open to expressing his love and devotion for you, as the dragon in him coiled with the need to make sure that you were his forever.

so why were you struggling? couldn’t you tell that you were his mate? his to love and cherish forever? even if you didn’t think you loved him now, there was no way that he’d let you go, not when the both of you were finally alone, together, and safe.

carefully, gently, absurdly for the situation he had just subjected you to, he lifted you up in a bridal carry and you couldn’t tell if you wanted to curl into his strong embrace, or shimmy away from your captor.

once he settled on your bed, he bunched the covers up around you and him until you were both insulated and he could retain the warmth that you gave him. he had made sure you were comfortable, drawing the blankets up around you first and foremost and leaning over your form quite inquisitively, drinking in the most vulnerable side of you he had never gotten to appreciate properly and feeling a strange welling of wholesomeness in his heart at your figure, dwarfed by him and his twisted love for you.

after getting settled down, you couldn’t help but close your eyes sleepily, unsure as to why you were feeling so exhausted that your body would let your guard down around the beast that had possessed your friend. you would contemplate why you were allowing him such proximity, but your mind was too scrambled to discern if he was a threat or not, and it seemed as though your body had decided for you as you were his mate.

a hand from out of the blue descended upon your head and sharp nails massaged your scalp deeply, comfortingly, lovingly. they were careful not to draw blood or scratch you too hard, and your eyelids grew heavier still, and your ears gradually rose a barrier between you and the outside world, content in the embrace of someone you knew.

the wound in your neck hadn’t bothered you for a moment now, and you had half a mind to wonder why when a low croon came from above you. it seemed as though he was still watching you, with another hand descending to rub your cheek soothingly. the solace of his presence was unbearable for your rationality, and you let go all train of thought to give into him.

dan heng watched with satisfaction as you drifted off into slumber, pride welling in his chest at the level of trust you still had for him, even after his slightly unorthodox display of dominance.

after making sure that you were truly sleeping, deep inside the crevices of your mind and dreaming of him, no doubt, he lowered himself down into a space next to you, where he was able to hold you with your back to him and his arms wrapped tightly, possessively around your waist and pulled you as close to him as he possibly could.

a few seconds later though, he opted to drag his arms up higher until he was just right below your chest so that he could make way for his tail, which dipped under you and then coiled upwards to wrap around you, doubly secure and safely tucked in by his side.

although your blood had supplemented him some energy to get by for a little after his grueling transformation into a dragon, he was more than content with the prospect of regaining his full strength by resting by your side, knowing that nothing could ever take you away from him.

and afterwards, when his power was at its full glory, he’d prove to you that you’d never need to leave his side. ever.

and even if you insisted, tried clawing your way out of his embrace, tried to escape into a world with dangers lurking around every corner, ready to take you away from him, there was no way he would ever lose you, no way you would ever lose him.

your mate.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊

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