#but on the. pain. side? it seems so uncharacteristic of him. saying that he folds toward his pain instead of fights

[pencilpat]

Sanders Sides: College AU

Part two of this AU! Here are the character sheets for everyone. Both Logan & Janus are transfem in this AU. Prequel, Part 1

Featuring queerplatonic logince and implied future dukeceit!

Janus and Remus have some realizations about each other as they begin to settle into sharing a space. Roman attempts a confession again, with much more success. Virgil and Patton are doing well, and enjoying pulling the strings behind getting their friends together.

3,970 words

CW: brief mention of ableism from a parent, character living in poverty, swearing

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Janus leans against her wall, pinching her eyebrows with a sigh. “So, a whole coffee shop right at your disposal wasn’t enough?”

Remus barely acknowledges her, simply continuing to set up the coffee maker he purchased while she was at school, humming to himself.

“Remus, I don’t even drink coffee. How do you expect this to be of use to me? In my apartment.”

“Ah please, it’s fine! If anything, I’ll just take it with me when I leave!”

“Yeah. Leave.” She pans her gaze over what once was her living room, however small and crappy it was. It’s now covered in folded piles of Remus’s clothing and miscellaneous junk. Sighing, she stumbles out of her crutches to rest them by the door, pressing her weight on the kitchen counter. “Remus…” she begins, but doesn’t even know what to say.

Hell, this is just as strange and surreal as it was last night when she got the text. Remus looks different, older, and healthier, with significantly more piercings and obscene tattoos. She can’t tell if he did them himself or got them done, but they do suit his ‘quirky’ nature. The wisp of a mustache above his lip is now filled out and curled. Him being entirely shirtless when she got home was also a surprise. When he said he needed a place to sleep she had assumed he would be sleeping here and not much else. It makes sense that the twin’s shitty parents got rid of Remus eventually, and the thought makes her pinch her lips together tightly. She observes him working to screw tiny screws into plastic, ashamed as she finds herself eyeing his lean muscular build. She scoffs at herself and walks the rest of the way over. It's just Remus, same idiot as he was in high school – she knows him and how to handle his eccentricity.

“Remus, the instructions call for the bigger screw for that hole-“

“Oh, I bet they do!” Remus chuckles, standing up with his hands on his hips to glare at the machine like it purposefully caused him to pick up the wrong screw. “Everyone’s always looking for a bigger screw aren’t they,” he says, this dramatic, pouting lilt coating the words. She snorts out a small laugh, a sound that seems uncharacteristic for her, yet one that Remus always used to draw forth.

“I’m sure they are with you, maybe,” she says in mock sympathy. Remus stands up straight and gasps at her, mockingly offended.

“Are you only good for witty quips or are you gonna help me build this thing?”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Huh, makes sense you don’t have the energy to help then!” Remus sticks his tongue out at her and goes back to his fiddling. She laughs breathily, and walks along the walls to her bedroom, overwhelmed.

She drops against her bed like a sack, muscles aching from a day of walking. She lays against her pillows and listens to her own breathing rasp slightly. Living with the mildew is taking its toll as well, she assumes. She blindly fumbles on her bedside table for the familiar feel of her over-the-counter pain medicine, taking two dry. Too tired to get a drink. Too tired to get up much more at all for the day, most likely.

Ah, but she does have to. She groans. Bananaconda, curse you and your feeding schedule, she grits her teeth, cursing her beloved pet for being so beloved. Her snake’s cage takes up and entire wall of her room pretty much, always present in her mind. She’s one of her main joys in life though, and God damn her if she doesn’t take better care of Banana than herself. She sits up again, giving herself a moment before pulling herself up fully to standing, stumbling over to the minifridge full of mice.

Bananaconda eats very willingly, thankfully, making her life slightly easier in its turmoil. She made sure to stroke her scales gently for a moment a bit before feeding her as well. Anyone who says snakes don’t thrive on affection is an idiot in her eyes. Janus sighs, watching the monthly lump of food slip along her pet’s belly. “I’m jealous of you, baby. If only I could sleep that much.” She laughs at her own murmured words, and half-stumbles half-crawls back to bed.

She’s resolved to study in the morning already when there’s a knock on her door. She hides her face in her pillow and groans. Loudly.

“Janus! There’s a whole horror movie marathon on! Remember watching all those old things? You should come watch!” Before she can say anything, her doorknob is turning. At the very least Remus has the decency to have his eyes covered as he opens the door, but he was seemingly too excited to talk through a door.

“Remus, I’m… very tired right now.”

“Huh? It’s only like 7!”

“Remus, please.” She holds up a hand, trying to pause him. “I… I can’t even get up right now, let alone get to the living room. I’d prefer to rest.”

“Oh.” Remus pauses, blinking behind his hand. “Well, I just know you used to love them a lot. I saw you lookin’ all sad and figured it might cheer you up?”

“Even if I do want to… I can’t get up, ok? I’m sorry, I know it’s annoying and inconvenient and whatever else, I’ve heard it before-“

“Why don’t I just carry you!”

Now that does pause her. “Remus, what?”

“Y’know, pick you up! Er, if you’re decent and all.”

“Yes, I’m decent.”

Remus immediately uncovers his eyes, still seemingly slightly disappointed as she says it. “I can carry you out here! You’re not heavy!”

“What, am I going to grow extra arms to hold on or something?” She can’t help laughing. She’s a grown woman only a few inches shorter than him – he can’t be serious.

He most definitely is, she realizes, as he steps over and begins putting his arms under her legs and back. She lets out a tiny yelp, and is up in the air before she knows it. Thank god the room is dark, because her entire face goes half dark half pink with flush. “Remus!”

Remus just cackles, and starts carrying her into the living room. The lights are also off out here, and she sees in the light of the TV screen that her cabinets have been scoured as there are packets of hot cocoa on the counter along with two mugs. Remus sets her on the pull-out bed with surprising gentleness, and she sees the beginning of the first Scream playing already. Remus goes to the kitchen and comes back with a cream yellow mug held out to her, steam glimmering in the TV light. She accepts it, still a bit breathless. Remus crawls over the bed, careful with his own mug of coffee – coffee, at 7 pm, she notes – and settles beside her. Their backs are pressed onto the backing cushions of the sofa.

She watches his face, glowing excitedly as he blows on his mug. He looks enraptured by a movie she knows he’s seen at least 6 times. It’s bizarrely cute to her, and she refocuses her gaze onto the movie, though not really watching. Was he always like this? She finds it hard to remember. She doesn’t remember being so… taken with him? She used to find him more of an annoying side-piece to the friendship with Virgil and Roman – a jester to their catty monarchy - though he was genuinely good to her and enjoyed being around her. She glances again at his brown eyes, seeming slightly red when lit up. He’s laughing through the first kill of the film, that high pitched cackle he’s always done. She supposes neither of them really knew what it was like to have people enjoy being around you before that little group.

She can’t help a light chuff of a laugh at herself, taking a drink of hot cocoa. What is she thinking about right now? It’s just Remus, that dumb kid from her high school. Any amount of loneliness on her part wouldn’t be a fair reason to tug at his heart, anyways.

Janus does enjoy the cocoa, and the movies – well, the three of them she makes it through. Remus made sure she was laughing and made as many inappropriate jokes as he could. He noticed her drifting to sleep as it got fully dark outside, and didn’t interrupt her, letting her fall to sleep. Her cocoa was fully drunk, and he lets her just… rest, for a while. He’s not an idiot, he did notice how exhausted she looked from the moment she opened the door. His eyes glance away from The Bride of Chucky onto her crutches. She didn’t have those in high school. Flitting back over to her face, Remus sighs out a low breath. Three years is longer than he thought, truly.

The molded apartment and impoverished conditions aren’t… new, for her, either. Virgil brought up to him once, during a panic attack, noticing Janus living in her car through most of the time they’d known her. Of course, himself and his brother were too rich and privileged to notice something like that. He glares at the television spitefully. If he had known, if she had ever mentioned it, if, if, if. Whatever. It’s unchangeable, and now he’s also cut off from that money and lifestyle. Turns out rich actors aren’t fond of ‘schizo’ sons. He shakes his head out from the thoughts as the marathon’s end title pops up, downs the last of his coffee, and then crawls off the bed. It doesn’t feel right to physically move her, so he sets the two blankets and pillow down on the kitchen floor and resolves to sleep there. Faces flit at him from the shadows of a new environment, but he's too at peace to feel distress.

“Heh, night Janus,” he whispers into the silent room. “Enjoy the bed.”

---

Apparently 9 pm on a Friday was the best Logan could manage, as their texts show, and Roman is chugging coffee just in case. Patton and Virgil will not stop being lovebirds in the living room, and Roman seethes over his mug at them from the chair across from the sofa.

“Geeze, Rom, if you glare any harder you might actually put holes in us,” Virgil chuckles, sitting up just slightly, laying against Patton’s chest and stomach. This only makes Roman glare harder at him, and Virgil rolls his eyes. “Roman, dude, it’s ok. We have the plan remember? Subtly clearing out once she gets here?”

“You could just go now!” Roman whines, very loudly.

Patton giggles at him. “Roman, c’mon, you know she thinks it’s a friendly hang out! She would be confused if it’s just you when she gets here.”

Roman groans, but he knows they’re right. It feels… icky? Just weird, to do to her, but if Patton thinks she’ll be ok with it, he trusts their advice. Roman takes a large drink of lukewarm coffee and pulls out his phone again. He is still in dress pants, his black gloves, and a slightly undone blouse despite Virgil and Patton having chosen to be in pyjamas. Casual elegance is always his expectation for himself, even when a cutie isn’t due over any minute. His phone has yet to show any signs of Logan getting any closer though.

Only a few minutes later, it seems Logan just doesn’t announce her arrival. Roman lets out a startled squeal as a knock comes on the door. He instinctively hides behind his hands for a moment, and Virgil laughs at him. He huffs and stands up to open it to her, coaxing his cheeks to lose their flush. He pulls the door open with a smile, and finds her standing calmly, dressed in a simple black polo shirt and jeans, the porch lights glinting off her piercings. Shockingly it’s the most casual he’s ever seen her, and he’s caught staring at her. The undone top button may as well be pornography as far as her usual attire is concerned.

She clears her throat. “Roman? Are you ok?”

He stands up straight, nodding. “Yeah- Yes! Yes, I’m fine. Why don’t you come in.” He bows to the side and gives her room to enter. She raises and eyebrow and smiles just slightly and his unnecessary grandiosity. Logan walks inside, already knowing where the living room is due to visiting Patton here once or twice. Roman trails behind her, brushing at his white streak of hair, tucking it behind his ear. He tries to watch her move without actually staring, her light and poised way of walking enrapturing him as always.     

“Hello Patton, hello Virgil,�� she waves as she walks in, settling on one of the other free chairs that doesn’t have Roman’s cup on the table beside.

“I made coffee if you would like a cup? I even let it cool so I can put some ice in it!”

“That’s very kind, Roman, thank you.”

Roman smiles, proud of himself, and practically skips to the kitchen to get her a glass. Virgil turns his head to look at her, picking up the remote to turn off whatever gameshow was on previously. He switches to Netflix and smiles. “Going for the classic Doctor Who tonight, L? Or did you have anything new you wanted to check out?”

“I actually have not watched any of Doctor 12, my studies really picked up before I could get that far.”

“Actually shocking you haven’t seen Matt Smith yet,” Virgil teases. Logan raises her eyebrows at him with a playful smile. “Just saying, you’re a nerd for this show, I figured you would have seen literally everything it has to offer.”

“Eh, school has always been top priority, even if it means not doing much else.”

“Still, you should schedule in a free day, or something. Just like, a day for doing things for fun.”

Logan seems to consider it, touching her chin. “That is true, doing things for enjoyment is a necessary part of life – it’s just difficult to fit it in, what with work and school taking up almost every day I have.” She shrugs, closing her eyes with a sigh.

“You need something fun, Lo!” Patton calls, obviously already sleepy based on their voice. “Even if it’s a silly show or just going out to eat instead of… well, eating oatmeal for every meal.”

“I like oatmeal,” she retorts, sitting up slightly and crossing her arms.

“You like other things too, though!”

She sighs and nods, conceding. “You’re right, Patton. Other foods can be enjoyable.”

Virgil and Patton exchange a glance as Roman reenters the room. “Y’know, me and Pat are busy most of the week too, but Roman has pretty light courses – you two should go get dinner some time.”

“Oh! Why yes, Virge, that does sound lovely!” Roman hands her the cold caffeine and she smiles in thanks. Their hands touch slightly, and Roman rushes back to the other chair to try hiding the way his face darkens.

“Mm, very well. Getting food is an acceptable activity to lose time on, considering I would need to eat either way.”

“And I will be paying, of course!” Roman touches his chest as it puffs out proudly.

“Roman, I make my own money, I assure you I can-“

“Ugh, just let me do something nice for you!” he says, a bit too aggressively. Paton giggles at him and hides their face against Virgil. “You deserve someone to treat you, Logan.”

Logan sighs, not fully grasping the reason he wants to, but supposing that it won’t hurt. “Alright, Roman, if you insist. We can alternate who pays.”

Roman’s mouth shuts, and he tries not to look annoyed at Logan’s refusal to be spoiled. Patton and Virgil certainly never complain, considering his incredibly large allowance from his parents. Even with all the clothing he buys, it would still be difficult to spend $7,000 monthly without friends to support. He chooses to gripe in silence though, as Virgil turns on Doctor Who and the title theme sounds its sci-fi score through the room. Roman glances over at Logan again, pleased to see a relaxed grin on her lips as she drinks coffee.

They all relax through the first four episodes of the season, Logan occasionally asking for clarification on the emotional themes and Patton in return requesting clarification on the scientific themes. Roman makes occasional compliments to certain shot framing and lighting choices, and Virgil remains mostly silent.

After the end of the fourth episode, Virgil yawns exaggeratedly. “Well, L, I think me and Patton are going to head to bed, but since you don’t work until like 2 tomorrow, you and Roman should stay up and keep watching. If needed you can stay over, too, you know the couches rock.”

Logan smirks slightly. “Yes, the couches are quite comfortable. Very well, you two. Rest well, remember to brush your teeth.”

“If the couches are so nice, perhaps we should slide over onto that one now that they’ve cleared off!” Roman declares as the couple disappears down the hall to the bedrooms. Logan hums in agreement and they both move over. Their coffees are gone, and Roman finds himself with nothing to fidget with. He ends up picking at the leg of his pants and tapping his foot, barely able to pay attention to the show. How could he when she’s right there, breathing and shifting so close to him? He tries sneaking his hand closer to her own, trying to build tension. She doesn’t seem to notice, focused on the show.

Roman takes a breath, and fully slides his hand over to rest on top of hers. She immediately begins to pull it away, turning to glance at him. “Do you need something, Roman?”

“U-uh- Nothing, no! Your… hands… just look soft?”

She pauses, tilting her head at him. “Soft?”

Roman is screaming curses at himself in his head, but he tries to smile casually through it. “Y-yes! They look,” he picks one up gently, lightly running his gloved fingers over the back of her hand, “really smooth, and your fingers are very long and thin… They are quite dainty.”

“Um. Thank you, Roman.” Logan seems taken aback; her face confused. “Why do you bring it up?”

Roman meets her eyes, her light blue ones clear enough to hold his reflection, and a small sigh leaves him. “I don’t know. All of you has always looked quite soft to me. Truthfully… I think about it probably a bit too often.” He smiles bashfully, glancing down away from her eyes. “I think about you a bit too often.”

Logan tries to piece together what he’s talking about in her mind. Thinks about her? Her being soft? It’s not tracking with her – Roman thinking of her often doesn’t seem like a characteristic she would expect. “What do you mean by that, Roman?”

“I- I mean,” Roman glances up to her face again, something passionate and soft filling his features. “What I mean is that- is that I like you, Logan.”

“I like you too, Roman, you’re an excellent friend.”

“No! No, as- as more than that. I like you in ways beyond friendship.”

Logan blinks rapidly, mouth falling open slightly. “Oh- Goodness, Roman- I’m sorry, I- I don’t- I’m not exactly interested in romance. With anyone, not just you in particular.”

“Ah. Oh.” Roman chews at his lip awkwardly. Of course she wouldn’t be. It makes sense given how romantically illiterate she is. “I mean… we don’t necessarily have to be romantic?” he proposes.

“What do you mean?”

Roman licks his lips, sighing, trying to put his words in order. “What I mean is, while I do like you as more than a friend, that doesn’t necessarily mean we have to be romantic partners!”

“How so?”

“Well- There are other types of attraction! Like how I’m mostly homoromantic, but sexually I don’t have much preference at all!”

“So… you are implying we would only be sexual?”

“Er, well no! Not necessarily. Oh, goshdarnit, words can be hard. There’s more than just romance and sex too! Like, even though you are feminine in your gender and not my typical type, aesthetically I find you incredibly beautiful! And- and I picture you erotically or sensually quite often as well.”

It’s Logan’s turn to go pink, glancing away to process her thoughts. Before Roman mentioned experiencing these feelings, she hadn’t thought to consider him in that way at all. But she quickly glances him over again, his dark skin with light markings glowing in the television lights and his perfect, slightly long hair. His golden jewelry and greenish eyes, filled with hope and warmth as he looks at her. Perhaps she gets what he means by aesthetic beauty.

Logan breathes in slowly, and fully meets his gaze once again. “Well, Roman- I suppose- I mean, I understand your thoughts. You are also a very attractive person.” Doctor Who is nothing but background noise now, their gazes locked solely on each other. Roman is clinging to every word she speaks, holding her hand in his own trembling ones. “If it would make you happy, I would… be willing to attempt non-romantic partnership. I need to do further research on this whole subject of attraction, I think. There seems to be more to it than I realized.” Logan touches her chin. “What do you call a partnership like this? I don’t know, ‘non-romantic partner’ seems a mouth full.”

Roman tries to tamper down the joy for a moment to properly explain the topic to her - it’s rare he’s the one to teach Logan something. “Well, in queer spaces most of the time they call it a ‘queerplatonic’ or ‘queererotic’ relationship.”

“That is also a mouthful.”

“Hence why they shorten it! ‘QPR’, ‘QPP’- er, as in ‘queerplatonic partnership’.”

Logan hums, seeming to rotate the words over in her mind. “Very well. I suppose, then, that you are my queerplatonic partner.”

Roman grins at her widely, his slightly crooked teeth shining in the low light. She smiles back, a bit shocked with herself. Roman squeezes her hand, and chuckles. “Er, for boundary reasons- Am I allowed to kiss you?”

Logan can’t help a single sharp syllable of an embarrassed laugh slipping out of her, her face blushing deeper. “Sure, Roman, if it’s quick. I’m not very big on physical affection most times.”

Roman nods, and plants a quick respectful kiss on her cheek, giggling at himself. “This is so stupid- I’m being so awkward, I’m sorry!”

“It’s quite alright, I also feel awkward.”

“I can tell, nerd, your face is so bright it’s shining.”

Logan looks away, adjusting her glasses on her nose. “You don’t look much better, frankly.”

They meet eyes again, exchanging tiny smiles. “I suppose those dinner plans are a definite now, hm?”

“I suppose they are.”

“Want to finish watching this stupid nerd show?”

“Of course I do.”

“Can I cuddle you during it?”

“Of course you can.”         

Roman and Logan lay against each other, their bodies warm with embarrassment. Logan lets herself get so wrapped up that she does end up having to stay the night for time’s sake, and Roman leaves her to rest on the sofa for the night with one more quick, flushed kiss. Logan curls into the throw blanket and lets a geeky smile fully fill her face in the cover of darkness. She doesn’t know how she got here, with a careless, dramatic theatre major of all things. Logically they’ll be incompatible, right? She doesn’t know.

What Logan does know is that Roman’s confession felt right, in some way – like it was meant to happen. And the brief kisses certainly didn’t feel bad either. She falls asleep warmly, with no idea what the future might hold for the first time in years.            

[miladydewintcr]

Happy Friday!! You have me intrigued with Evangeline Cousland/Anora, so I think I shall toss you this pining/yearning prompt for them: "❛  maybe we're supposed so to remain a case of 'right person, wrong time' forever.  ❜"

I love writing yearning omg, thank you so much for giving me an excuse to <3

For @dadrunkwriting

Rating: T Ship: Anora Mac Tir x F!Cousland Word-count: 1597

It feels as though they are destined to dance around each-other, for all their lives. Anora is betrothed to Prince Cailan before Evangelina is even old enough to fully understand what that means.

“It’s a contract,” Anora explains, lying in the grass beside her at the Mac Tir’s estate in Gwaren. “It means we’ve promised to marry each-other someday.”

Evangelina’s nose scrunches. “Why would you want to marry him, though?”

“Lots of reasons.” Anora shifts to lie on her side, to look at Evangelina. “He does what I tell him to do. Not all boys are like that.”

“Everyone does what you tell them to do, though,” Evangelina points out.

Beside her, Anora falls back down with a laugh.

“Maybe I’ll come be one of your ladies when you’re queen,” Evangelina suggests, with all the confidence of a child who has yet to learn that life is rarely so easily planned.

Anora reaches for her hand, intertwines their fingers. “I would like that, I should think.”

-

They see each-other less and less, as the years pass. But every time, Evangelina feels a painful ache in her chest. It’s as though she’s grieving something, though she can’t quite place what. Their friendship, perhaps- they’d been so close as children.

At Evangelina’s betrothal ball, thrown to celebrate the eventual- and now official- union between her and Thomas Howe, Anora finds her in the crowded room. She hadn’t even expected her to come, truth be told. Being Queen always seems to keep her so busy.

“Walk with me,” Anora says.

“I really shouldn’t leave my own celebration.”

“This shouldn’t take long.”

Anora always did get what she wanted.

Evangelina follows her from the ballroom and down the stairs, out into the gardens. Anora doesn’t stop or turn to look at her until they’re deep in the hedge maze, and there is something uncharacteristically fragile about the look on her face when she finally does.

“You can do better,” she says, with conviction.

Evangelina blinks, momentarily confused. “Excuse me?”

“Than Thomas Howe. He’s not even the eldest child, for Andraste’s sake, Evangelina.”

“He’s his father’s favourite, though,” Evangelina insists. “Do you really think he’ll leave Amaranthine to Nathaniel?” She rolls her eyes. “I’m going to be an Arlessa, Anora, I really can’t aim for anything any higher. There’s only one other Teyrnir in Ferelden and it belongs to your family. And you’re already married. To the only available Prince, might I add.”

“I could find you a foreign prince!” Anora takes a step towards her. “I’m the Queen. My favour would carry a lot of weight.”

“I don’t want you to find me a husband, Anora. I’ve already found one. I’m going to be the Lady of a Castle!” She stomps her foot hard against the gravel beneath them, punctuating her point, before folding her arms across her chest.

“If you married a prince, you would have a much grander castle.”

This, momentarily, has Evangelina’s attention. But no. “If I married a foreign prince, I would have to move away. Is that what you want?”

“No!” Anora says quickly- too quickly.

“Oh, Maker, you do, don’t you?” Evangelina uncrosses her arms so that she can hold up a hand, putting it firmly between them, creating a barrier. “Are you jealous of me, Anora?” Slowly, she connects the pieces- Anora’s sour mood all day, stealing her away just to argue with her. “Do you wish to marry Thomas?”

“What?” Anora looks completely and utterly disgusted. “Maker, but you are ridiculous sometimes, Evie, that is the exact opposite of… You know what? Fine.”

Before Evangelina has chance to process what’s happening, Anora is stepping forwards, pushing her outstretched hand away, grabbing the lace trim on her bodice and pulling her into a kiss.

For maybe the first time in her entire life, Evangelina is completely speechless.

Anora pulls away from her, just barely, to whisper against her lips, “Do you understand now?”

Evangelina can’t quite remember how to form words. So, she doesn’t. Instead, she puts her hands on Anora’s waist, and leans back in to kiss her again.

-

As long as she can remember, Anora has had Cailan following her around like a loyal little pup. Now, Cailan is dead, and Evangelina has a Theirin pup of her own.

“I think you should marry Alistair.”

Part of her wants Anora to react poorly to the idea. To tell her it’s ridiculous, refuse to go through with it. But of course she doesn’t. “He has a strong claim to the throne,” she instead concedes. “Why don’t you marry him?”

“Because marrying you would bolster his claim further. The people already love you, Anora. If they see that he has your support, they’ll trust him that bit more, more quickly.”

Anora sighs, just barely audible.

“I am sorry,” Evangelina says, reaching out towards her, catching herself before she can. “But I really can’t endorse Alistair for the throne without you beside him. Arl Eamon would seek to rule through him, and I… If anyone is going to use Alistair, I’d rather it be you.”

Anora’s laugh is dry. “Does he know of your plans for him?”

Evangelina inclined her head. “He is not best pleased, but he understands the situation.” Locking eyes with her, she adds, “If he rules alone, he will see that your father dies.”

“After Ostagar, I would not hold it against you if you wished him dead as well.”

She allows herself to take Anora’s hand in hers. Her own is scarred, now, and concealed by thick, armoured gloves. She misses the days when it was not, when she’d had the smooth, uninjured hands of a noble. “Don’t let’s both lose our fathers needlessly,” she says, hating the way her voice cracks.

Wordlessly, Anora uses their joined hands to tug her closer, pulling her into a hug. She smooths a hand through Evangelina’s hair, and Evangelina wishes with all her heart that she wasn’t wearing armour, because then she could feel her warmth. Instead, there is an impenetrable barrier between them, and she has to settle for burying her face in the crook of her shoulder and nothing more.

-

She knocks on Anora’s door the night before they face the arch-demon. Thankfully, she has yet to marry Alistair, and they’re still sleeping in separate rooms.

Anora opens the door looking infuriatingly put-together for someone in their nightgown. “What can I do for you?”

“I just made your father sleep with Morrigan,” Evangelina blurts out.

Anora looks surprised for only a moment. “I do hope you had a good reason. Or did you just think it would be funny?”

“She’s going to have a baby, and the arch-demon is going to… go… into it? She did explain. It was very confusing.”

“I’m to have a sibling?” Anora breathes.

Evangelina quickly shakes her head. “No, no, it’s fine. Your father insisted, actually, that Morrigan promise the child wouldn’t bare his name nor any attachment to him, lest it hurt you in the future.”

Anora leans against the door-frame. She looks so very tired. “I am surprised he agreed to it at all.”

“I asked him very nicely,” Evangelina assures her. At her raised eyebrow, she adds, defensively, “I’m very good at convincing people to do things for me.”

“You’d have made a good queen,” Anora mumbles, so softly that she barely catches it.

“But you make a better one.”

“You’d make a better consort than Alistair.”

Evangelina smiles sadly. “Yes, well. He’s a Theirin. And he’s a good man, too. He wouldn’t… He won’t hurt you, or any of those other beastly things you hear of partners doing.”

Anora’s answering smile is just as melancholic. “My offer still stands. If you won’t marry me, at least let me find you a prince.”

“I’m a Grey Warden now.”

“So is Alistair.”

She bites her lip. Because she’s right, isn’t she? The Wardens are supposed to relinquish their former families, their titles, their inheritances, yet Alistair gets to just walk away from it all because he’s a Theirin? How is that fair?

“I want Vigil’s Keep,” she says. “All the Howes are dead. Probably. I’ve always dreamed of living in that castle. It’s a fortress, too, so we can say it’s ‘for the Wardens’ or whatever.”

Anora smiles softly. “Survive tomorrow, and it’s yours.”

Evangelina positively glows with happiness. “You mean it?”

She nods. “I’ve no use for it.”

“You must visit.”

“Oh, I will.”

-

After the battle, she wishes she could run to her, but she can’t.

At the royal wedding, she wishes she wasn’t attending as a guest of honour. She watches Alistair place a chaste, awkward kiss on Anora’s lips in front of a room full of people, and her heart aches.

“It’ll get easier,” Loghain says from beside her. “You learn to live with the pain, in time.”

“You sound as though you speak from experience.”

He gives her a little half-shrug, and refuses to explain himself further.

-

This was not how she’d expected to arrive at Vigil’s Keep. She’s in desperate need of a bath, she is covered in darkspawn blood and in gore, Oghren is inexplicably here for some reason. But as she sits down on the mattress of her new bed, it feels almost like winning.

In the corner is a door disguised as a cupboard. The passageway behind it leads to a room in the guest wing- one of the nicer rooms, in fact.

It isn’t perfect. They will have to be discrete. But it’s something, and she will take it.

[forgetmyreality]

A Pound of Flesh:

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen!reader

Word Count: 1000ish

Synopsis: Reader is the first born daughter of Rhaenyra (with Daemon, they had an affair after Jace’s birth but before Luc), she normally was the quiet, reserved one, who adored her books more than life in court, but in order to protect her family there is nothing she wouldnt do, even if it meant great pain, but maybe it will be the start of something so much more

Warnings: threats, targcest, kinda strangers to enemies to lovers?, I don't know if missing anything, Slight UA, at storm’s end Luce doesn't die

A/N english isn’t my first language and its not beta’d

A/N2: MDNI, 18+ only

A/N3: Flashbacks/translations/thoughts in italics

A/N4: I have an idea to continue this but I want to test the waters first so please enjoy and let me know what you think!!!!

A Pound of Flesh:

“Please Mother, let me go with Lucerys” you pleaded Queen Rhaenyra, folding your hands in front of you. “I have this feeling something bad is going to happen and I want to be there to protect him”

Your mother looked down at you from her position at the head of the stone table “I already said no, Y/N” she said in a demanding tone. “He is being sent as an envoy not a warrior, the Stags will not harm him” she waved her hand at you in a dismissive fashion.

“I will go Mother, with or without your approval” you slipped out uncharacteristically, shocking not only the Queen but yourself as well. “I don’t understand this feeling but I know I need to go but I prefer to have your consent.

Locking eyes with Rhaenyra, she sees the urgency storming in your features. “I allow this if you will finally perform your duty and agree to a marriage match I decide on, my daughter”

You nod in approval and briskly head for the door. Stopping a few steps before it, turning your head to get one last look at your mother saying only slightly louder than a whisper “thank you”

You take off on your dragon following after Luc, flying as fast as your dragon can take you to reach Storm's End. The feeling of dread only grows in your lower stomach as the rain pelts down on you, the dragon dodging the strikes of lightning from the heavens as he flys. Although the journey to Storm’s end is short, it’s dangerous and it feels like forever because of the weather.

Finally reaching your destination and landing in the courtyard, a stroke of lightning illuminates the shadowy figure of Vaghar who lets out a menacing roar behind a stone wall. Meaning her rider must also be here trying to get Borros Baratheon on the side of Aegon in the potential war. The sight causes you to run faster, pushing past the guards and servants in your way to get to your brother.

“I demand payment for my eye” Aemond screams at your little brother in the throne room that you just barged into. Seeing Aemond lunge for the smaller boy, you immediately dash in front of Luc, shielding him from the threat

“You want your pound of flesh Aemond? Fine, I shall pay it, take my eye” you lift your chin giving him better access to your eye. You stare at him in a daring manner. Do it, take it, I must protect Luc and I must put a stop to this madness.

He comes impossibly close to you, his lips mere inches from yours, staring in your eyes. If an outsider was witnessing the both of you, without hearing the moments before, they would have assumed it was two people madly in love, approaching a passion filled kiss.

“Luc, leave us now” without moving or breaking eye contact with Aemond you push your brother towards the door “please”

Aemond raised his dagger, bringing it closer to your face. The action filled with hesitation which surprises you. With the tip of the blade within centimeters of your eye, the world seems frozen in place. Everything and everyone else seems to disappear and nothing heard over the sounds of Aemond’s heavier than normal breathing.

Aemond’s eyes never leaving yours

You whisper in high valyrian “Nyke shijetra ao” (I forgive you)

The first time you saw Aemond, It was before he lost his eye. You were enamoured, his quiet demeanour entranced you. You both became fast friends bonding over books you’ve read.

He loved you. “Let’s marry when we are older” he would often whisper promisingly to you, one he planned to make a reality.

After he lost his eye he drifted away from you. You often felt like you were chasing after him, and yet he would avoid you at all costs, Aemond was just always out of reach. Years went on like this, he became darker, more closed off, bullying those around him to fill the void he didn’t know was left by you.

He wore adulthood like a badge of honour, nose held high but that never stopped you from loving him.

“Clingy whore, leave me alone, I don’t want to be around you. Get that through your thick skull” He yelled at you after a particularly hard battle when you got too close.

That was the last straw, the last thing he said to you and you to him. The look of hurt on your face burned in his memory haunting him every time he tried to sleep. After all he said the most hurtful words purposely so you would finally give up on him and go and find someone truly worthy of you… someone unlike him…someone not mangled. It broke your heart and his.

You you repeated in high valyrian “Nyke shijetra ao” (I forgive you)

And the clanging of the dagger was heard echoing throughout the halls… Aemond dropped it. He spared you.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N” tears welling up, threatening to fall.

You stood there frozen, heart pounding as Aemond fled the throne room heading for Vhagar.

Part 2

[velvetcloxds]

HEY, ISN'T THIS EASY | D.S.

pairing: damon salvatore x best friend!fem!reader

word count: 0.8k

warnings: none

summary: when your prom date cancels on you, your best friend is more than happy to take his place

You weren’t sure how long you’d been hiding out in your little solace, quite satisfied with never leaving the confines of your bedroom until the dreaded day had passed, hopefully the week would pass with it until you had no reason to think of anything but finals- but your best friend had other plans, plans to which you were none the wiser but the less than silent way he moved about your house was hinting at something you should’ve seen coming all along.

“Yoohoo,” Damon sang as he threaded into your bedroom, being sure to brush his fingers over the drawers of your dresser as he approached you. “A little birdy told me that you were refusing to leave your room,” he explained lightly, scanning the bed to identify where you were under the sea of blankets and duvets before carefully sitting down next to you.

“Go away, Damon,” you mumbled, words barely audible as you pushed your face further into your pillow, the last thing you wanted was to face another man after the day you’d had- he knew this, of course, but it meant almost nothing to him, he was insistent on cleaning this mess even if it was not his, for once.

“That’s not on the cards, I’m afraid,” he tutted and was uncharacteristically gentle as he moved the duvet to reveal your face, smiling softly as he folded his legs over each other. “Want to tell me how much you hate him?” he suggested, and you offered a mere shake of your head in reply. “Want me to eat him?” that earned him a small scoff, your smile evident in the sound as you turned to see him, you didn’t truly mind that he was seeing you in your current state, which was one worthy of scaring off whichever replacement you could find, but despite your words you were actually quite happy that Damon was with you, he had a frustrating way of making you feel better even when you didn’t want to, but you were never planning on letting him know that.

“Men suck,” you noted, scrunching your nose when he brushed the hair from your face. “You make us feel all special and then you bail on us for prom,” you explained with a pout so prominent that it pulled at all your features, Damon humming softly in understanding.

Now, he hardly considered himself a sentimental man, but you were hurting and however silly the reason might seem in the grand scheme of things, he did consider it an almost personal challenge to take that pain away and if the cause was so simple then the solution was just as simple. And though he’d never dare admit it loud, he was never quite fond of the fella in the first place, not for even a second did he think he was worth even a minute of your time, even less so your tears.

“Well, you know, one of the many perks of being my best friend is that I’m always ready for a party,” he paused, smirking as you lifted your head. “I also look amazing in a suit,” he shrugged, watching with a familiar tilted brow as you realized what he meant, nearly jumping from your hiding place at the thought of it.

“Damon, are you saying you’ll be my date?” your voice was soft still, understanding that though he’d do just about anything for you, this wasn’t exactly his idea of the perfect way to spend his Friday night.

“Sure am,” he couldn’t deny the satisfaction of seeing you smile so purely, so freely, hardly understanding how something so little could make you so happy, but it did, and it filled him with an unfamiliar sense of pride that he was the reason behind it. “But,” he paused, feigning seriousness as you sat up. “You have to take a shower first, smelly pants,” you left your bed with an excited squeal, making it halfway to the bathroom before running back towards him.

“You’re the best,” you giggled, squeezing him tightly in a hug, too excited to notice the way he breathed you in lightly, kissing the side of your head as you pulled away. “Love you,” you noted with a scrunch of your nose, a million things to be done still running through your head as you skipped to the bathroom.

“Love you too,” he sighed, grabbing onto one of the stuffed bears he’d brought you over the years before falling back onto your bed, the poor man had no idea what he was signing up for, but he couldn’t truly bring himself to care just yet, as long as it made you happy, he’d sign up for just about anything.

tagging: @mirclealignr @bellabadacadabra @cupids-crystals @wrongilbert @fandom-life-12 @alexxavicry @murdockcastleslut @esposamultifandom @eichenhouseproperty @sheraayasher

[lokis-army-77]

Look At Me

Percy Dolarhyde x female reader

Word Count: 2962

Percy is annoying as always, Reader has finally had enough. When Percy comes for a visit one night, feelings come to the light.

Warning: Angst maybe, fluff

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Percy Dolarhyde was a character, boisterous, irresponsible, and plain damn rude. With his father being one of the most respected, if you could even call it that, men in the small community. Percy had grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth and ever since he learned his father would bail him out of trouble, he’d been causing it ever since. 

Somehow Percy had become entangled in my life. I’m not really sure how it happened, it just did. One day he was arguing with some poor soul who was unfortunate enough to stumble upon him half-drunk at three in the afternoon. I was minding my own business, carrying a vase of fresh flowers to Maria in the saloon.

The one-sided argument was in full swing as I passed by the two men when Percy’s hand shot out and accidentally knocked the vase to the wooden porch. It shattered into what seemed to be thousands of pieces. A yelp of surprise left me at that moment, the loud sound also surprising Percy and the other man. 

“Percy Dolarhyde,” I seethed, turning slowly to look at his red, sweating face. “I have had about enough of you.”

He looked at me from under his hat, hair sticking, wet with sweat, to the side of his face and neck. He shook his head and gave a bemused laugh like he couldn’t believe I had just spoken to him in such a tone.

“You can’t speak to me that way.” He said in a casual, snobby way.

“I can if I damn well please. Just because your father owns some cattle and most of the town doesn't mean shit to me, Percy.” I mouthed back. His face became even more inflamed, if he wasn’t so flushed from the heat of the sun and the alcohol, I swear the color would have gone up like the mercury in a thermometer, just a sheet of red slowly rising up his face. 

“Now you listen here,” he started, pointing a long thin finger in my direction. I stood there expectantly, hands on my hips. 

“What? Are you gonna call daddy? Go ahead Percy, call for your Pa. I’m not scared of either one of you.” I turned away from him so fast my skirts flared out. 

Our argument has gathered a small crowd, it wasn’t every day that someone put the man in his place. Shaking my head, I bent down to my hands and knees to start picking up the broken shards of the vase and place them delicately into my apron to carry them back to my family's shop, the general store. 

I was aware that Percy hadn’t moved from his spot behind me but I wasn't bothered by that. What did bother me though, was the fact that I could feel him staring down at me from where he stood in the dirt. 

“Do you have some kinda staring problem?” I asked, throwing a glance at him over my shoulder, still picking up pieces. He threw his hands up in uncharacteristic defeat, not saying a word. When I placed the last ceramic piece into my apron and folded the cloth so that the pieces wouldn't fall out, I stood back to my feet. 

He was still standing at the bottom of the two steps, staring into my eyes. With me on the porch, we were about the same height, he was still one or two inches taller. 

“Well?” I pressed, but again, he stayed unusually quiet. I just scoffed and bounded down the stairs, knocking his shoulder harshly with mine as I passed him.

From then on out, Percy had been nothing if not a personal pain in my side. Day in and day out, he constantly teased me. It was like being followed around by a child in a man's body. Maybe he was trying to see how far he could go before I snapped at him again, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. 

Today had been a particularly rainy day. I had never known it to rain so much out here in the western regions of the US, but the monsoon coming down around us was slowly proving my knowledge to be false.

To keep dry, I kept to the family general store. Small tasks were needed like sweeping, fronting the shelves, and restocking. These tasks in and of themselves were very simple but throw Percy Dolarhyde into the mix and there is a recipe for disaster. 

Percy had barged into the general store at half-past ten this morning, right before the bottom fell out of the sky, subsequently trapping me with him. At first, he was quiet, but I knew that was only him trying to think of ways to aggravate me. After about ten minutes he was as talkative as ever, again, acting like a child.

“So what’s this?” he asked, holding up a red rectangular package. 

“It’s stove polish. Can’t you read the giant letters on the packaging?” I responded, monotoned, shaking my head. God, this was going to be a long day. I went back to fixing the hats on the wooden shelves in front of me.

“Well yeah, I can read, I just wanted you to tell me. Just making sure you know what you’re selling here.” He paused, presumably to scour over other products. “What about this?” 

I let out an irritated groan and turned to see what he was holding out to me. He looked at me expectantly. “It’s spruce gum. Don’t you have anything better to do than to bother me?” 

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word. 

“Well, if you intend to stay here for the duration of the day, please make yourself useful.” I shooed him away. 

“And what exactly does making myself useful entail?” He asked.

“It means, go grab the broom and sweep.” I deadpanned. 

“But,” he started.

“Look, I know you’ve never had to do a day of hard labor in your life, but if you insist on bothering me all day, every day, you might as well help me while being a nuisance.” I kept fiddling with the hats. 

Percy just huffed through his nose and stomped over to the boom, which was behind the service counter. 

With him out of my way now, I was able to quickly organize and straighten up the shelves, that is until I realized he had become suspiciously quiet. He hadn’t said or done something audibly annoying in a while. I looked around the shelf to where he was, standing with the broom and limply, one-handedly, raking the broom over the floor. 

I put my head in my hands and rubbed my eyes. My god, he really is helpless. I stopped what I was doing and went over to him. 

“Okay, you’re done. Out, now.” I took the broom from his hand and pointed to the door. 

“What? Why? I was doing what you asked.” He defended. 

“Yeah, like an eight-year-old who was just told to do a chore. Percy, you are twenty-seven, act like it.” I grumbled at him harshly. He looked down at me with his hair falling into his face, there was something like hurt in his eyes as he nodded.

“I’m, I’m sorry,”  he said and then he strode to the door, grabbing his dusty hat from the coat rack before walking out into the pouring rain. 

I stood there for a minute, stunned that he had actually apologized. 

Percy wasn’t that bad after you got to know him, even if he was immature. I’m sure his want for attention stemmed from the lack thereof from his father. Over the past few weeks, I had come to feel for him, but someone had to put their foot down when it came to his nonsense and if no one else would, that privilege fell to me. 

I thought about that sad look in his eye for the rest of the day and well into the night once I had gone off to bed in the upper rooms of the general store. 

Percy was nowhere to be seen in town for the next few days, to the point where it actually started to worry me. He had been a constant in my life in these past months and now I was starting to miss the annoying questions he would ask me while I worked. 

I asked around town and no one else had seemed to know where he had gone off to either. It wasn’t until two weeks after I had sent him out of the store that he showed back up. It wasn’t during the day or at any reasonable time to call on someone, it was at almost three in the morning. 

A light tapping had woken me up and it was so persistent that I couldn’t fall back to sleep. Huffing, I threw the covers away from me and carefully threw my legs over the bed, and placed them on the floor. My window was on the other side of the room, so I fumbled around in the dark before I made it there. 

Throwing it open I peered down into the side road between the general store and the hotel. Squinting my eyes, I tried to see into the darkness. Nothing was there, but the tapping had stopped thankfully. 

“Hey.” I heard a whisper from directly underneath my window. I looked down and there, pressed against the outside wall of the building was Percy.

“Percy, what are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.” I called down quietly.

“I had to see you.” He moved slow and languid as he pushed himself away from the wall, stumbling over his own feet.

“You’re drunk, go home.” 

“No, I can’t.”

“And why not?” I asked, exasperated, not wanting to deal with him at this time of night.

“Because Pa’s on a cattle drive and I don’t want to be alone.” He admitted.

“I can’t help you with that Percy, go home,” I said, going to close the window.

“Wait, please. Can I come up?” He shuffled his boots into the dirt nervously. 

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Just until I sober up?” He asked and some part of me caved. 

“Okay fine, but you need to be quiet, if my parents hear you, we’re both dead.” I turned around, walking away from the window before striding back. “Take your boots off or else they’ll hear you clomping up the stairs.” 

I walked back to my bed and grabbed my night coat hanging from the bedpost. Slinging it on, I then lit my bedside candle and exited my room as quietly as possible. From my room, the outside entrance to the living quarters above the general store was to my left, my parent's room directly across from me. 

I moved across the creaky boards to the door and opened it, Percy was standing there, boots in hand and grinning from ear to ear. 

“Wipe that look off your face,” I whispered before pulling him over the threshold. He followed me silently into my room and watched as I closed and locked my door. 

“Thank you.” He groaned tiredly as he sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes harshly, knocking his hat to the floor in the process. 

“Why are you here Percy?” I asked.

“Like I said, I wanted to see you.” 

“I know, but why?” I pushed.

“I don’t know, I don’t wanna talk about it.” He removed his hands and placed them on his lap.

Shaking my head, I set the candle down on the table next to my door and walked to Percy. His eyes were closed and his head was leaned back. Taking my wrist, I placed the inside of it gently on his forehead. He jumped at the unexpected contact but when he opened his eyes and saw it was only me, he relaxed.

“What are you doing?” He questioned, cutting his eyes at me.

“I’m checking to see if you have a temperature.” 

“And why is that?” his eyebrows rose, the hair tickling the skin of my arm. 

“You aren’t acting like yourself.” I lifted my arm and looked into his eyes as they looked back into mine.

“I am acting like myself, I just don’t act like this away from home.” He brought his right hand up to gently hold my left. I could tell there was something he wasn’t telling me. 

“What is it?” My free hand came up to caress his dirty cheek.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” He shook his head. 

“Percy, I doubt you would be here if it were nothing. Tell me.” I bent down, grabbing the short stepping stool to sit on with the hand that was holding his cheek before placing it back. 

“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.” He admitted, anxiously rocking the chair.

“Go on.” I encouraged.

“Well, ever since you yelled at me that day in front of the saloon, I couldn’t get you outta my head. And then, when you said what you did two weeks ago.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t treat me like I’m my father's son, you don’t treat me like everyone else does. I have no idea how to handle the emotions you have stirred up inside of me but they are some of the strongest I have ever felt.

“I have been sick for the past two weeks. Not knowing what to do. You drive me crazy, I can’t seem to get you to notice me other than when I am doing something wrong and I just want you to look at me. Lord,” He laughed. “That look in your eyes turns my stomach and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if you were to look at me like you loved me.

“No one has ever loved me. Sure, Ma did, but she’s been gone for years. And Pa,” He scoffs. “Pa doesn't even stop to look at me. Pretty sure he stopped loving me when Ma died. Said I remind him too much of her. Just once, that's all I’m asking for, just once look at me without dejection. Please.”

His small speech opened my heart and mind to what I knew was true. What I knew all along, that Percy was just a lonely boy, looking for approval from a father that didn’t seem to care no matter what mess he got himself into. His speech made my heart pump a little faster at the realization that I might actually like Percy Dolarhyde as well. 

His grip on my wrist tightened as I slowly stroked my thumb over his rounded cheeks. As I looked him in the eye, I could feel my heart speed up. Feelings were treacherous things, even if I had despised Percy with my whole being, I think my feelings still would have found a way to see him in a romantic light, especially now as he was bathed in the soft glow of the candle. 

Percy let out a shaky breath when the look on my face changed from one of sympathy to one more soft, more like what he was looking for. 

Hesitantly he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find his words. “I think I love you,” he confessed. “You don’t have to say anything back, I know I have been an ass to you.” He looked away from my face.

“You’re right, you have been an ass,” I confirmed to him, his posture slumped. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t like you. It may not be love, but I do have feelings for you. With time they may blossom into a strong love.” I pulled his face to look at me as I stood from the stool. 

The look on his face was a cross of relief and excitement. He stood quickly from the rocking chair, almost losing his balance. 

“Oh thank you, thank you so much.” He smiled wide. He let go of my wrist only to entrap me in a bone cruising hug, my feet dangled a foot off the ground as he had lifted me up into his arms. Placing me back down, he tucked the hair that had fallen into my face behind my ears. “Can I kiss you? Just a small one?” He asked, eyes moving back and forth between my mouth and eyes. 

I simply nodded and closed my eyes as we leaned into one another. I could taste the whisky on his lips, but it wasn’t overpowering like I thought it would be. I doubt he was actually drunk with how little I could taste on him. 

The soft kiss was over before it even began, leaving me wanting for just a little bit more. I tried to follow him as he pulled away but strangely he had become the source of reason. “I won't kiss you more than this. I want to do this the proper way. Ask your Pa if I can court you and all that.” He gave me a sly grin before backing away from me and picking his boots and hat up off the floor. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow darlin’.” He strode to the door and opened it, leaving as silently as he came. 

I watched him bound down the outside stairs and onto the dirt road below. He looked up at me as I stood leaning against the window, he flashed another toothy grin before disappearing into the darkness of the night. 

Closing the window and slipping into bed, I lay there going over what had just occurred. Bewildered.

Taglist: @yutasgem @brookeworman @salty-thembo @m2051@flutterskies @letshangourselves @ghiacciosdiscordkitten @spacecluster @collardefrutilla

[cherienymphe]

Fallen Angels (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

WARNINGS: Cop!Bucky, mentions of kidnapping, NON-CON, trusting reader

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

This takes place in the same universe as Protect & Serve. You don’t need to read Protect & Serve to follow along as this takes place before Protect & Serve

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers​}

summary:  Bucky thinks you’re the sweetest thing to grace this earth, and he’ll do the unspeakable to get what he wants

~

You heaved another sigh as you made your way up the steps to the police station. It was warm out, a soft breeze ruffling the bottom of your dress. The sun beat down on your face, making you squint, the heat only adding to your annoyance. You didn’t even know why you got annoyed anymore. It wasn’t as if this was exactly new for you.

“Y/N!”

You threw the woman behind the counter a small strained smile, shoulders sagging as you approached her.

“Hi, Jane,” you sadly said. “I’m here for my sister.”

There was a spark of recognition in her eyes, nodding while returning your strained smile.

“Of course.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, turning away as she disappeared into the back. You swallowed, briefly reaching up to rub your forehead and resisted the urge to a sigh again. You couldn’t believe that you had to leave work yet again to come and deal with your sister’s neverending drama. 

You turned as soon as you heard a door open, watching a familiar face bring another familiar face into the room, his large frame making her look small. Officer Barnes greeted you with his usual smile while you returned it with a sheepish one. How many times had you watched him carry her through that door? How many times had you felt sheer embarrassment at her behavior? 

“Where was she?” you quietly asked.

“Stumbling through the park,” he said with a shrug.

“Thank you,” you breathed, genuinely meaning it. “I can never thank you enough.”

How many times had you thanked him?

“Hey,” your sister slurred, eyes bleary as she struggled in his firm hold, legs trembling. “Don’t talk about me...like I’m not here.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, and she rolled her eyes, head falling back.

You reached for her, but Officer Barnes shook his head.

“Let me help her to your car. It’s the least I can do,” he said.

You started to argue, but decided against it and swallowed your words. You led him outside, the mumblings of your drunk sister reaching your ears. He was gentle as he placed her into the passenger seat, and you frowned at her as she laid her head on the dashboard.

“Really, thank you,” you said, looking to him as soon as he shut the door.

He folded his arms over his chest, leaning against your car as he gazed at you with a look you couldn’t place. He did that a lot.

“I can’t keep letting her off the hook forever, you know,” he told you, making your heart drop.

You knew that. You had known it for a while, probably since the second time. You didn’t know why Officer Barnes, and the station by extension, always let your sister off easy every time she was found drunk somewhere, but you were grateful nonetheless. You couldn’t keep taking advantage of his generosity though.

“How is Officer Wilson?” you asked, changing the subject.

The blue-eyed man smirked at the mention of his roommate and colleague.

“Still as much of a pain in my ass as ever,” he answered, making you chuckle.

“You know, as much as you insult him, I think you’d really miss him if something ever happened to him,” you said with a grin.

Officer Barnes joined you, eventually nodding with a smile of his own.

“You’re probably right. He’s still a pain though,” he agreed, walking with you to your side of the car.

You paused when you placed your hand on the door, swallowing with your eyes to the ground before looking to him again. You really couldn’t appreciate him enough, but like he said, you knew he couldn’t continue to let your sister off of the hook.

“I really hope this will be the last time,” you whispered.

Officer Barnes frowned, dark brows lowering as he heaved a sigh, sounding as tired as you felt.

“Did you ever think…”

He paused, shifting on his feet before continuing.

“Maybe a few days in jail will do her some good. I mean, what kind of lesson can she learn if you keep bailing her out?”

You couldn’t say that you hadn’t considered it, but you sadly shook your head.

“I can’t do that to her. She’s family,” you quietly replied.

He studied you for a bit before nodding, running his eyes over you with a soft hum.

“No, of course not. You’re too sweet for that,” he said.

You blinked, unsure of how to respond to that, so you simply thanked him again and said your goodbyes. He didn’t move as you got in and drove off, his stare piercing your rearview mirror until he was nothing but a speck in the distance.

When you finally arrived home, your sister was barely able to stand at all. You got her as far as the living room before your arms gave out, depositing her onto the couch. After placing a small trash can beside her, you went into the kitchen to make some coffee and put together a little hangover concoction that you’d been using for years.

As she slept off the alcohol, you couldn’t help but to think about Officer Barnes’ words. Not just him admitting that this couldn’t go on forever, something you already knew, but his proposal to let your sister spend a few nights in jail. You had thought about it. That wasn’t a lie, but you didn’t think it’d do any good. It wasn’t that simple. Your sister needed professional help.

You wondered if you could get Officer Barnes or even Officer Wilson to help you out with that. You didn’t think that your sister would react too kindly to an intervention. You suddenly shook your head, telling yourself that you needed to stop relying on them so much. Especially Officer Barnes. 

You’d known them both for years, ever since they moved to the city during your 3rd year of college. They’d been mere officers in training then. You remembered even having a slight crush on Officer Wilson, but that had died the minute they found your sister the first time, wandering around the city drunk and belligerent. You had been so embarrassed, telling yourself that no one in their right mind would get mixed up with a family like yours, no matter how small it was.

Officer Barnes was always the one to find her. He never judged her nor did he ever hint that he was even thinking any kind of negative thoughts. He’d always been much nicer than either of you deserved, and you mentally reminded yourself to bake him some cookies. You suspected that his love for your food was the main reason he let your sister off the hook time and time again.

It was hours later, when you were taking the fresh cookies out of the oven, when you heard your sister stir. You turned just as she stumbled into the kitchen, struggling to open her eyes. You grabbed her a cup.

“I made coffee. It’s not as fresh as I would like it to be but…”

You trailed off, handing it to her. Her eyes were wide open now, and she gratefully took it, gulping it down.

“Thank you,” she breathed as soon as she was done.

The silence was awkward, and the smell of fresh cookies wafted through the air. It was an odd picture.

“So,” you started, playing with your fingers. “What was it this time?”

Your sister heaved a sigh, setting her mug down as she leaned against the counter.

“I got fired today.”

Your face fell, shoulders dropping as sympathy tore through you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, meaning it.

“Don’t be. It beats sleeping with my decrepit former boss,” she scoffed.

Your eyes widened as you registered the implication behind her words, and your heart clenched. You stepped towards her, reaching out.

“Are you serious? T, we should tell someone. File a lawsuit or something-.”

Her laugh cut you off, and you frowned at her.

“Have you met the guy? He has more money than either of us could ever dream of. It’d be a waste of time,” she sneered.

You shook your head.

“You don’t know that. You’re probably not the only woman he’s done this to. I’m sure with the right lawyer-.”

“This is the real world, Y/N? Where those in power take advantage of the rest of us as they see fit,” she told you, making your frown deepen.

Your bit your lip, not exactly agreeing with her but opting to swallow your words. You watched as she neared the pan of cooling cookies and ran her eyes over them with a light scoff.

“Who is this for? Officer Barnes?” she mockingly wondered, a look of disgust on her face.

“Yes, actually,” you said, ignoring her tone and reaching to get a plate. “Do you want one?”

“You should really stay away from him, you know.”

“Well, that’s kind of hard to do when you keep getting arrested for public intoxication,” you threw back.

You immediately cringed, turning to face her, surprised to find not an offended look on her face, but merely a shocked one. She crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head at you.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just… He’s a nice man, T. A good man. Much more than we deserve. Anyone else would have put you before a judge a long time ago.”

She chuckled, reaching past you to grab a cookie.

“Gee, I wonder why that is.”

Her tone confused you, and she shook her head at you.

“The guy’s a creep. No amount of friendly smiles can hide that,” she tossed over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.

You frowned at her words before shaking your head and sliding the cookies onto a plate.

A week later, you were thankful that your sister seemed to be doing better. Normally she needed a month to really get herself together to at least try and get back on her feet again, but her uncharacteristic behavior both shocked you and made you proud. However, when your doorbell rang at almost 1 in the morning, you realized that you had spoken too soon.

“Oh my God,” you breathed.

You had swung the door open and come face to face with none other than Officer Barnes and your sister, the latter almost keeled over. She would have been face first into the ground if it wasn’t for the man holding her up.

“Her room is this way,” you told him as soon as you let him in.

She mumbled a few times as he followed your lead, quieting altogether when he placed her on her bed. He made sure that she was on her side, and you heaved a tired sigh as he followed you down the hall.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-.”

“Hey,” he said, grabbing your shoulder and stopping you.

You turned to face him, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, much quieter this time.

Officer Barnes just stared at you, brows drawn together as he rubbed your shoulder, attempting to calm you down.

“It’s okay-.”

“No, it’s not. I really...I really thought this time would be different. I did.”

“I know you did-.”

“...and there are actual criminals out there who need to be dealt with but instead you’re here dealing with me and my sister again.”

You placed your hands over your face as your voice cracked, and your shoulders trembled as you held in all of the emotions threatening to spill.

“God, all of the cookies in the world can’t make up for what we put you through,” you sighed.

He pulled your hands away from your face, and you looked away from him.

“Hey…”

You wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he let go of one of your hands to place it under your chin. He made you look at him, and his blue eyes searched your face as he smiled at you.

“This is my job. I’m not going out of my way to do anything here, okay? It’s okay.”

You reluctantly nodded before your eyes found the floor again.

“She needs help,” you said, finally admitting it outloud. “Professional help. The 12 steps kind.”

There was a brief silence before the dark-haired man spoke.

“I can help with that, get her into some meetings,” he offered.

“Would you? I...I didn’t want to ask because you do so much for us already, but…”

You crossed your arms over your chest as you looked at him. He rested his hands on his hips, tilting his head at you with a slight frown.

“Now, Y/N… How long have I known you and your sister? I’m always happy to help you two out in any way I can. You know that,” he told you, lips quirking up just a tad. 

“More than we deserve,” you murmured

He looked as if he was going to say something else, but you continued before he could. 

“Do you want something to drink before you go? I usually make her some coffee,” you offered.

His smile widened as he looked at you, eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t name.

“I’d love to.” 

His steps were light as he followed you into the kitchen, and you wondered if his stealth was just part of the job or if he was always that way. He didn’t say much as you moved throughout the kitchen, opting instead to watch you as you turned on the coffee pot.

“I think I have some leftovers from last night,” you told him.

“I’d love some.”

As you made to fix him some food to take with him, you found yourself humming a bit, a habit. So immersed in your tasks, you’d almost forgotten that he was there until he spoke again.

“You’re going to make some man a very happy husband one day.”

You threw him a smile over your shoulder.

“You sound like my dad,” you complained, thinking of the man who you hadn’t seen in years.

“A harmless compliment, I promise. You’re just so sweet...and you can cook better than any chef in the city,” he elaborated.

“Well, we’ll see what the future holds,” was all you said as you handed him a container of food.

You moved to get his coffee for him when he spoke again.

“Any man would be crazy not to snatch you up and beg you to have his children,” he said with a chuckle.

You joined him, shrugging as you handed him a to-go cup full of steaming coffee.

“That would be nice, but I can’t have kids,” you said.

Officer Barnes’ smile fell, eyes widening just a bit as he blinked. If it wasn’t for you, he would’ve dropped his coffee.

“What?” he murmured.

You shrugged again, throwing him a small smile.

“I can’t have kids.”

He looked like he didn’t know what to say, and he frowned, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you told him, placing your hand on his arm. “I’m not bothered by it anymore. I used to be, but… I figured that some people just aren’t meant to have children, and that’s ok.”

You turned away from him, moving to clean up your mess. You could still feel his eyes on you.

“It’s why I work at a nursery. I love it, and sometimes I think to myself that if I had children of my own, I wouldn’t have time for the dozens I see every day.”

You leaned your back against the counter, facing him as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I like to believe that everything happens for a reason.”

Officer Barnes smirked at you, a light chuckle escaping him, face pinched as if he was thinking hard about what you said, dark hair curling around his ear.

“That’s a nice way of looking at things.”

You shrugged, leading him to the door.

“My sister doesn’t exactly share my sentiments, so it’s nice to hear that you do,” you confessed, opening the door for him. “Thank you again, Officer Barnes.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at you.

“How many times must I tell you?”

“Sorry, sorry,” you said with a groan. “Bucky. It’s a force of habit.”

“Well, I’m kindly asking you to kick it,” he lightly replied as he stepped outside.

“Drive safe.”

He paused, blinking at you before nodding.

“I will, and I’ll talk to someone about getting your sister into some meetings.”

You waved him off, a slight frown overtaking as you heard your sister retching from down the hall. With a sigh, you closed the door and turned to go tend to her like you always did.

The weeks that followed were better, the best you’d had in a long time. True to his word, Bucky got information on some meetings, and surprisingly, your sister agreed that she needed more help than you alone could provide. You drove her to, and picked her up, from every one. You’d always felt like the older sister despite the opposite being true, but it was glaring now more than ever.

Her behavior was improving, and you constantly prayed that it would last. You knew that recovery wasn’t always a smooth journey, plenty of people relapsing, but that didn’t seem to be the case for your sister. She had gotten another job, was keeping up with her meetings, and hadn’t even looked at a bottle of alcohol in weeks. She was just her normal cynical self...until she wasn’t.

You tapped your finger on the steering wheel, watching as the last person left the building. You waited a few moments, hoping that she would be the last person, but she never came out. Hurriedly stepping out of your car, you made your way to someone who hadn’t driven off yet. You could tell that you had startled them by knocking on their window, and you apologized the minute they cracked it. You asked them if your sister was still inside, and your heart sank at their answer.

“She never showed up.”

Your lips parted, brows furrowing as you registered their words. Unsure of how to respond, you simply took a step back, allowing them to drive off. It was late in the evening, and the parking lot was now empty, and you felt helpless as you looked around, as if waiting for your sister to appear.

She had never showed up?

You had dropped her off yourself. You had seen her walk into the building with your own eyes. You wondered if something had happened, something to send her over the edge again, and with a heavy heart, you got back into your car and headed home. You waited up most of the night, expecting a call from the police station or even a knock on your door, but your phone never rang and your door was undisturbed. You hadn’t meant to, but before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.

Your notifications were just as empty when you woke up the next morning, and your stomach churned as you sat there alone. You had the most awful feeling in your gut, and despite the fact that this should seem like a normal act for your sister, you couldn’t help but feeling like it wasn’t.

Later that day, you drove to the police station. For someone who swore not to rely on Bucky as much anymore, you were doing a poor job of it. He was happy to see you, and that made you feel even worse. Bucky was always happy to help you, and you constantly felt like you were taking advantage of it.

Your worry must have been written on your face though because his smile soon fell. He walked you outside of the station, and you quietly followed.

“It’s my sister,” you immediately said. “She’s missing.”

He eyed you for a bit, eyes narrowing just a tad as he thought. He folded his arms over his chest.

“Are you sure?”

You knew what he wasn’t saying. Your sister wasn’t exactly the most reliable, and absences weren’t unusual for her. He was right to be skeptical.

“They said she never showed up at her meeting. I dropped her off myself, and even if she wasn’t really going, she’d at least pretend like she was. She wouldn’t want me to worry and...and that’s all I seem to be doing,” you murmured.

Bucky placed his hands on your shoulders, massaging them as he attempted to console you.

“Alright. Have you called her?”

“She doesn’t have a cell phone,” you told him. “She can never keep a job long enough to.”

He nodded at that.

“I know that for adults, they need to be missing for at least 48 hours to be treated as a missing persons case. I know that, but…”

You trailed off, and Bucky understood, nodding.

“Hey?”

Your eyes met his, and he sent you a small smile.

“I’ll do what I can. I’m going to find her, alright?”

You gave a shaky nod. He told you to go home and let him handle everything. And thats what you did. The house felt too quiet, and uncomfortable, you started cleaning and cooking. In the midst of all of that, you called your father to tell him what was going on, but it was in vain. As usual, he didn’t answer his phone, and you found yourself wondering if your family was cursed. Your father was too indifferent, your sister too cynical, and you were too nice.

Despite the fact that you felt like you shouldn’t, you went to work. Was it to distract yourself? Oh definitely, but what else were you supposed to do? You didn’t worry until the 4th day had passed and you’d heard nothing from Bucky. He said that he would handle everything, and you trusted him, but you were tempted to go back to the station. However, a knock came on your door one night before you could.

You knew it was him, and you didn’t hesitate to open the door.

“Well?” you anxiously asked, letting him inside.

Bucky’s face was solemn, and you feared the worst, but he simply shook his head.

“Nothing,” he sadly told you.

Your frown deepened, and you frantically blinked away tears.

“Hey,” he quietly said. ‘Hey, none of that, doll.”

You shook your head, stepping back.

“I just feel like this is my fault. Maybe she wasn’t ready. Maybe I pushed her too soon. Maybe-.”

“...and maybe it was all her and had nothing to do with you,” he said, lips pressed together as he looked at you.

You slowly nodded at what he said, not quite believing it.

“Maybe,” you murmured, turning away. “I feel like I should be out there, doing something.”

You heard Bucky approach you, and he tsk’d. 

“No, absolutely not. This city is dangerous, and I can’t look for her properly if I’m worrying about you, now can I?” he said, hands resting on your shoulders.

You turned your head to look at him, taking in his soft expression, his baby blues resting on you. You reluctantly shook your head.

“No, I can’t. So the best thing for you to do is sit tight while I try to find your sister.”

“It’s hard. The house...it’s so quiet now. It’s so obvious that she isn’t here, and I hate it,” you whispered. “I’ve never lived alone.”

He hummed, glancing around.

“I don’t have to leave right away. My shift is over, and I could stick around for as long as you want,” he offered, making your heart soar.

“You would do that? I don’t want you to feel obligated to keep me company.”

He grinned at you.

“Never. You just kick me out whenever you get tired of me,” he told you.

You didn’t kick him out. Bucky slept on your couch that night and the night after that and the night after that. His presence was welcoming, comforting, and you found yourself growing used to it. Having known Bucky for years, it was easy to get into a familiar groove with him. He started occupying your couch more and more, and feeling so bad about inconveniencing him all because you couldn’t handle being alone, you usually cooked him breakfast before he had to go to work. 

When he wasn’t at work looking for your sister, he was at home with you. Sometimes he cooked with you, or sometimes he fixed something that had been broken for months. He made missing your sister a little easier. You had faith that he would find her, that he’d bring her through that door, drunk and on the verge of sleep like before.

Still, sometimes, you couldn’t help the dark thoughts that assaulted your mind. What if she never came through that door? What if he never found her? Or worse… What if he did? What if he found her in a ditch somewhere, body maimed and ruined from being dead for so long? Despite how much you tried to remain positive, despite how much you wanted to believe otherwise, what if she was gone? 

This was what woke you up out of your sleep one night, on the verge of a panic attack. Your breathing was shallow, eyes unfocused as you fought to calm yourself. You were startled, a shriek leaving you as you felt something brush your arm. Light flooded your room, and your eyes immediately met Bucky’s as he stood beside your bed.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, doll,” he whispered, kneeling beside you. “ I could hear you all the way in the living room.”

“Sorry,” you weakly said, shaking your head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, sitting beside you, facing you as he pulled you into his arms.

You hadn’t realized that you were shaking, and Bucky tightened his arms around you.

“What if she’s never coming back? What if she’s dead?” you cried.

“Don’t say that,” he murmured, rocking you. “Don’t think the worst.”

“But-.”

He shushed you, cutting you off, and you couldn’t fight the tears as they spilled over. His hand brushed over your back, and you closed your eyes as he held you, not taking note of what was happening until his lips met yours. Your eyes flew open as confusion filled you.

You struggled to pull away, but Bucky’s hold was firm. His mouth moved over yours, and your eyes were wide as he kissed you. He only pulled away when you struggled to breathe, and you pressed your hands to his chest immediately.

“Bucky what-?”

“It’s alright. Let me make you feel better. Help you forget,” he murmured, leaning in again, but you turned away.

“No!”

You got out of his grip, scooting back against the headboard, looking at him as if he was a stranger. Bucky was frowning at you like you were in the wrong, and your mind was muddled with so many conflicting thoughts.

“What are you doing?” you asked him.

He scoffed at you, narrowing his eyes at you like you had offended him.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? You smile and bat those eyelashes at me-.”

“I-.”

“You invite me into your home. You allow me to stay for as long as I want. You cook me breakfast, hell, we cook together like an old married couple. Are you telling me you intended to just play house forever?”

You were floored, and you flinched as you remembered your sister’s constant words, telling you that you were too nice, too trusting. You stared at Bucky, and you felt like an idiot. More tears sprung forth, and you dug your nails into the palm of your hands. 

“Bucky I…”

You looked down, wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

“I’m sorry if I made you think that...that there was more to this, but that was never my intention. I’m really sorry.”

You heard him heave a long sigh, shrinking in on yourself as he moved closer to you.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry.”

You looked up at him, and he reached out to touch your chin. The blue of his eyes was a tad darker, colder than you’d ever seen them. 

“I keep forgetting how sweet you are. Too sweet. It’s my fault really, but let me explain how things will work from now on, just so there’s no confusion…”

Your brows drew together, dread swirling in your chest.

“You treat me nice, you be as sweet to me as you always are, and I’ll do everything in my power to find your sister. You don’t...and it’s classified as a simple runaway case.”

You sharply inhaled, mouth dropping open as you registered his words.

“What-?”

“Is that understood?”

He didn’t give you time to respond, pressing his lips to yours again. Your mind was screaming at you to do something, to fight him, get out and go get help. But what if he was telling the truth? Would he really give up on finding your sister if you didn’t sleep with him? Besides, even if you could get away, who could you go to for help? The police was currently pushing you onto your back, lips tasting every inch of you.

Still, you couldn’t help but to fight against him, and Bucky huffed. He paid your trembling hands no mind as he pushed your t-shirt up, fingers trailing over your skin as he did so. You felt like you were having an out of body experience. You almost felt like you were looking down on yourself as he undressed, and you barely fought him as he did the same to you. Your breathing was shallow, and you were certain that you were going to pass out.

“Bucky,” you breathed, pressing your hands against his shoulders.

He simply lowered himself, attaching his mouth to you, making you forget your train of thought for a second. He was like a man starved, tasting you until he was more than satisfied. You hadn’t had sex many times, the few times you did it was great, but this surpassed all of those times, something you never thought possible.

Your legs trembled around him, toes curling, and you reached down to press your hands against his head, trying and failing to push him away. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding them in place while he had his fill of you. Your chest arched upwards, and one of your hands pressed against the headboard, attempting to ground yourself, but Bucky seemed determined to make your head spin.

“Bucky, stop,” you begged, voice cracking. “Please…”

Your next words were lost, the only thing climbing out of your throat being a moan. You tried your best to swallow it down as you came, but Bucky’s tongue and mouth didn’t rest, lapping up your juices as you clenched around the pink muscle. You were still coming down when he climbed over you, and you opened your mouth to stop him, beg him, but he pushed into you without warning. 

A gasp escaped you, a groan of his own leaving Bucky as he immediately began to thrust into you. You placed your hands on his chest, lips trembling as he slid into you over and over again. He kissed you again, taking you by surprise, and you stared up at him in something akin to disbelief.

How did you get here? Bucky was your friend, and somehow, here he was on top of you, forcing pleasure onto you that you never asked for.

“You taste just as sweet as I thought you would,” he murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth.

“Bucky,” you quietly begged.

“I always knew you’d be sweet in bed, making the cutest little noises, all soft skin and soft smiles.”

His words confused you, and it occurred to you that this behavior did not come out of nowhere.

“You don’t know how many times I wanted to take you in the back of my cruiser, right there in the station, but you deserved better. You deserved to be kissed like a princess in between your sheets-.”

“Stop,” you begged. 

You wanted him to stop talking. You didn’t want to face how unbelievably stupid and trusting you had been. It hurt too much. He pressed his hips against yours again, his thick cock dragging along your slick walls.

“Your sister wasn’t good for you, doll.”

Your eyes widened as they met his, his brows furrowed in concentration, a bead of sweat on his forehead as his hair hung over his face.

“She was nothing but trouble, always bringing nothing but her problems into your life. You were far too nice to do anything about it...so I did,” he told you, not a hint of humor in his blue eyes.

A horrified gasp escaped you, and you continued your struggle. You felt like you’d been punched in the chest, and your vision was completely blurry from your tears now. You were full on sobbing, but Bucky paid it no mind as he intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hands down above your head. Every thrust was a brush against that little bundle of nerves, and you felt yourself clenching around him.

“Oh, that’s it,” he purred. “Come around my cock.”

“No, no, no,” you cried, bucking against him, but only making it worse for you.

Your second climax crashed over you like a wave, and like you were drowning, you struggled to breathe. Bucky’s lips felt like they were everywhere, and soon after, you felt him twitch inside of you, coating your walls as he came too. You couldn’t breathe, and you felt the walls of your room closing in.

“I’m the only one who knows where your sister is,” he murmured after catching his breath. “I’m the only one who knows if she’s even okay.”

Your chest was heaving, and you kept thinking to yourself that not enough air was getting in. Bucky wiped the sweat from your hairline, running his eyes over your spent frame as he caged you in even further.

“So if you want to see her again, you know what you need to do.”

The world finally caved in on you.

Even though you couldn’t have kids, it seemed like Bucky was determined to try. Or maybe he just couldn’t get enough of you. Despite the fact that he had a place of his own, he spent all of his free time at your house. His hands never strayed from you, and it seemed like he was kissing you any chance he got. At night, and sometimes in the morning, he enjoyed the feel of you wrapped around him, milking him as he groaned in your ear.

And what could you do but let him? Now knowing the truth, you wondered if you ever knew Bucky at all. How was it possible to hide one’s true self for years? Constantly? You remembered your sister’s last words about him, calling him a creep, and you wondered if he was that good or if you were simply that trusting? 

He acted as if you were a normal couple. He cooked with you, ate with you, watched tv with you, and even bathed with you. Bucky brought you flowers and gifts and pretty dresses he thought you’d look good in. Every time, you thanked him with a smile and could do nothing but accept it as he undressed you. Every time you asked about your sister, every time you built up the courage to, he always dodged the question, and you wondered how long this would go on.

As it turns out, not long at all.

He came to the house one day, angry and frantic and his eyes were searching for you. The minute he spotted you, he pounced. He was rougher than he had ever been, pinning you to the wall as he thrust into you, hand fisting your hair while the other pressed his fingers into your thigh. You felt like he was going to break you, but Bucky paid no mind to your tears. 

You had made your way to the floor when he finally came inside of you, sweaty and angry and gripping you like he’d lose you. You were trembling in his arms when he lifted his head, and you stared at him like he was going to hurt you some more. You watched as he swallowed, running his eyes over you as he reached up to brush his thumb along your lip.

“Sam and I gotta leave,” he breathed.

You blinked at him, frowning.

“It’s all so sudden, but they found some things, and we have to leave.”

You didn’t know what to say, and you stared at him in confusion.

“...but when it’s safe, I’m coming back for you,” he told you, making your heart sink.

“B-Bucky...my-.”

“You want to see her again, don’t you?”

You nodded, and he nodded with you. 

“Okay. Then you’ll wait for me. You don’t tell anybody what you know, and you wait for me. Tell me.”

Scared to say anything else, and scared that you’d never see your sister again, you told him what he wanted to hear.

“I’ll wait for you,” you whispered through trembling lips..

He kissed you, and that was the last time he kissed you for a long time. You didn’t know how many years had passed. 4? 5? 6? You couldn’t keep track and they all blended together. With Bucky gone, you felt more alone than you ever had before. Had your body grown used to his? Grown to crave his even? The man was your rapist. Was that normal?

The house was too painful for you to remain in, so you moved a couple of blocks over. Every day that passed, you wondered how your sister was doing. You wondered where she was. Some days you missed her more than others, and some days you were angry. Why couldn’t she have told you outright what Bucky was like. Surely, she must have known, known better than you.

Some days you were angry at Bucky, and on more than one occasion, you had even been tempted to tell someone what you knew. You hated him for what he did to you, what he’d done to your sister, putting you both through torment. Most days though, you were just angry with yourself. You felt like you deserved some blame in all of this, for being so naive, so trusting, for having faith in everyone until they proved otherwise. 

Work only distracted you for a short time, and the lonely nights came quicker than you liked. Provided that you were able to find sleep, it was normally after a crying fit. It all felt like a strange sort of limbo, and you wondered how long you were meant to endure it. You started to think that Bucky would never come back, you’d never see your sister again, and once again, you’d be an idiot for believing him. But what other choice did you have?

It was one early morning, the sun still yet to rise, when there was a knock on your door. You were riddled with sleep and practically stumbling to the door, but when you opened it, all of your fatigue was gone. Your wide eyes met familiar blue ones, and you felt like the air was sucked out of you.

His hair was shorter, but he otherwise looked the same. He was dressed darkly, as bulky as ever, and you took a step back when he took a step forward. An unfamiliar car was behind him, and you squinted, recognizing Officer Wilson in the passenger seat. Your eyes fell to Bucky again, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk.

“Hi, doll.”

~

tags:  @darkficreposter​​​​​ @xoxabs88xox​​​​​ @harryspet​​​​​ @readermia​​​​​ @opheliadawnwalker3​​​​ @nickyl316h​​​​​ @captainchrisstan​​​​​ @sebabestianstan101​​​​​ @villanellevi​​​​​ @lokislastlove​​​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​​​ @coconutqueen21​​​​​ @hurricanerin​​​​ ​​​ @hyoyeoniie​​​​ @kellyn1604​​​​ @sherrybaby14​​​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​​​ @mandiiblanche​​​ @gotnofucks​​​ @oneoftheprettynerds​​​ @doozywoozy​​​ @sapphirescrolls​​​ @threeminutesoflife​​​ @searchforanotherway​​​ @mcudarklibrary​​ @ksjksjkv​

[wreckmetoji]

Fight for your love

A fic in which your boyfriend’s job keeps you from obtaining what you want the most.

↳ Geto Suguru/Reader

content warning. fluff, smut, established relationship, afab reader, oral(f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, profanity

**Minors DNI**

2.5k words

In no way did Suguru think he was a clean, righteous person. He knew many decisions he made weren't the right ones, he knows he's had to hurt innocent people. But the way you looked at him every time he walked through the door made him believe he was. The gentle tender love and care tending to his wounds after a long day of work gone bad, hurting innocent people. You never seemed to mind, never seemed to ask, never seemed to care if the way you kissed his bruised, bloody knuckles spoke what your heart was thinking. Every time he tried to bring up his line of work, knowing there was a good chance one day you might get dragged in despite how hard he tried to keep you separate, keep you secret, you simply shook your head and smiled at him. As long as you're you, I don't care what you do, you'd say. As long as I'm happy with you here and now, I don't care what happens later. Suguru would be lying if he said he didn't come to the conclusion he couldn't live without you right there, right then, the first time you said those words with your blindingly bright smile. Everyone was far from perfect, except you. There was no such thing as perfect, except you– and sometimes, you made him feel perfect too. "I know you can't help it, but," You muttered, tongue poked out between your lips as you tied the bandage around his torso with utmost concentration, "If you're gonna get hurt, try to avoid something this close to your heart." His softened gaze followed your fingers as you gently caressed the bandages above his deep cut, the pain not even registering with how gently, how lovingly you treated him. "After all, if your heart gets hurt, so does mine." He knew, deep down, he didn't deserve you. "I'll try my best, darling." Suguru smiled, hands gently finding your hips, his forehead leaning into your chest as you cradled him from your standing position. There you stayed, slowly, gently swaying in comfortable silence. You made him feel virtuous, as if mere hours ago he didn't commit horrible, unforgivable atrocities, unforgivable and damning sins. This is how most of your evenings together would go, patching him up, dancing around each other in the kitchen as you made dinner together, if he was ever home early you'd watch a movie together. Even if it was rare with the long hours he worked, those were the days he cherished, those were the days that got him through it all. You never asked for more, even though he knew you deserved every second of his time, you deserved the world and the heavens above. What were you if not a goddess, damned to mortality, damned to a life loving him. Suguru held you close as you laid in bed, the rain pattering on the window lulling you both into a comfortable half-asleep daze. He noticed the way you kept some distance, trying not to irritate his fresh wound. "Sugu," Your voice called, urging him to open his eyes and gaze down at you. Your sudden silence intrigued him, and the way your ears went pink intrigued him even more. "What is it, little lamb?" Suguru sounded tired, voice gravelly from a long day. He kissed the crown of your head, rubbing soft circles on the small of your back, urging you to talk to him about what you so eagerly wanted to get out. "Maybe one day–" You paused again, fists balling at his bare chest, "One day, would you want to start a family?" The thought had most certainly crossed his mind, on several occasions. Suguru would regularly daydream about a peaceful life of domesticity with you, a child or two, a nice house in a nice neighborhood with a nice, respectable job. He'd always snuffed the idea, knowing that he probably wouldn't live to see his child grow up properly. Still, though, the way you pressed your cheek into his arm and stared at him with wide, inquisitive eyes had him smiling sadly. "My beautiful angel... Under different circumstances, I wouldn't have to think twice." He didn't want to lie to you, but the frown tugging at your lips had his heart clenching in his chest. "We could go somewhere they can't find you, we could move somewhere warm and sunny." Suguru chuckled at your optimism, though a twinge of sadness was behind it. They would find him, no matter what he did or where he went. He didn't dare say it, he knew your response already, that's just an excuse. "That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Your silence told him everything he needed to know. There wasn't anything he could say, so instead he kissed your forehead, your cheek, your nose, then your lips. There he lingered, sighing gently when your hands moved up to his shoulders, then his neck. Heightened by your saddened state, the way you pulled him closer, fingers brushing through the hair on his neck, thumbs stroking his jawline, was all so desperate. It was your silent plea, your attempt to change a fate already set in stone. "I can't stand to see you sad, little lamb." He smiled against your lips, slowly shifting on the bed until he was hovering over you. Those eyes, the way you looked at him, so wide and clear and swimming with emotion. So pure, so untainted, so good. Everything he wasn't, and everything he strives to be. "I'll make it up to you, darling," He kissed you again, then your chin, then your neck, "I promise." Only when he received a nod of approval did he proceed, gently pulling your underwear off, oh so gently helping you lift your night shirt over your head. Never in the years you'd been together has he grown accustom to just how lucky he is to exist on this world at the same time you did. "You're so beautiful, absolutely perfect. Have I told you this?" Of course he has, but the smile on his face was so cheeky, so mischievous it made you giggle. "Maybe once or twice." Suguru returned your laugh, pulling his hair back into a bun with the hair tie on his wrist, before descending down your body. Every place he stopped, he kissed, nuzzled, nibbled, eliciting a sigh from you nearly every time. The sight of your eyes closing and head tilting back once he reached your core, giving your bundle of nerves a sweet kitten lick, was akin to seeing God. Surely it was the holiest thing he would witness in all his time on this earth. You were, after all, nothing short of an angel. Making himself more comfortable, Suguru gripped your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders. The soft look you gave him, those sweet eyes, your perfect parted kiss-plumped lips... "Beautiful," Was all he whispered into the plush skin if your thigh before parting you with his thumbs, gently kissing, licking, and sucking your sensitive clit. The long whine you emitted only spurred him on, fingers teasing your entrance by touching and squeezing everywhere but where you wanted. Admittedly, it's been a while since the two of you got intimate time together. Either he would come home too late, or too hurt, for the two of you to comfortably do anything. You never seemed to press. "I'm sorry I haven't been taking care of you, little lamb," Suguru replaced his mouth with his hands, thumb swirling circles around your bundle of nerves, while his index and forefinger ever so slowly entered your heat. He set an immediately fast pace, fox-like eyes drinking in your pleasure twisted face. The sweet sounds dripping from your mouth were like music to his ears, the arch of your back from the mattress eliciting a dark chuckle from him. "I know I haven't been the most solicitous boyfriend as of late," His fingers curled inside you at his words, "I hear you in the shower, you know." He kissed his way back up your body, stopping only briefly to flick his tongue across a pebbled nipple, stopping mere centimeters away from your lips. He wanted to bask in your whines and moans for just a moment longer, his personal hymn. "Naughty little thing, never asking for help." Suguru didn't get to tease you for long, your hands finding quick purchase on his cheeks, tugging him down and kissing him with desperate force. Your frenzied, open mouthed kisses were met ten-fold, a slow, low moan coming from him at the uncharacteristic abrasiveness you were displaying. The way your walls clenched around his fingers let him know just how bad you'd been needing him, the whispered I'm cumming against his lips. When your hand came down to palm at his very hard erection outside his briefs was when he decided he'd have to reign you in much tighter than usual tonight. Tonight wasn't about him. His fingers worked in tandem with your heaving chest, every push and pull in sync with your hurried breaths. He had half a mind to pin your arms above your head and fuck you stupid with his fingers, but he couldn't deny you of what you really wanted. "I know you're eager, darling, but be good." He saw the shiver run up your body at his authoritative tone, one he didn't use often. At the same time, he pulled down his boxer briefs and added his ring finger to your dripping cunt. It isn't that he had to, he knew you were already perfectly wet for him, he just loved the way your thin fingers gripped the sheets, the way your head thrashed from side to side. Very briefly, Suguru entertained the thought of a golden band wrapped around his finger as he defiled you with his hands. How beautiful it would look disappearing, reappearing, covered in your slick. It made his cock twitch. The second he removed his sopping fingers from you, he'd lined up the thick head of his cock with your trembling sex, leaning back with his hands on your knees. He could see the surprise on your face, your arm half-way reached to the bedside drawer to get a condom. "I know," He crooned, stroking your knee. Admittedly, the two of you weren't diligent with using condoms when you didn't have to, but he was well aware this was the week you really should be using them, lest you want unexpected surprises. Your teary eyes and beaming smile could put the pearly golden gates of heaven to shame. The way you squealed as he pushed in had his own eyes rolling back, forcing your knees apart further until he had completely buried himself to in your welcoming heat. Having been a while, he had to take a shaky breath before slowly, ever so slowly, pulling out to the tip, pushing back in with a bit more haste. How quickly, and how tightly, you wrapped your legs around his waist nearly winded him, enraptured cries of faster, please, I need you making him groan. "You poor thing, so needy," Suguru barely managed to breathe out, hips moving at a steady pace. The obscene sound of your slick sticking to his hips every time he tenderly fucked into you made him acutely aware of exactly how long its been. Ashamedly aware of how close he was to his climax, Suguru's thin fingers moved between your bodies, sliding in a quick back and forth motion against your clit at an attempt to get you closer, faster. The immediate reaction had his hips stuttering, your gummy walls clenching intensely around him, your impending orgasm pushing him over the edge. He only briefly stopped moving, whispering an apology into your hair as he tenderly flipped your body. Having you lay prone was one of your favorite positions, but it was mostly done to hide the embarrassed pink tint climbing up his neck from your gaze. White seed squished out and dripped down your sex, between your thighs, when he pushed back into you, the feeling alone having you throwing your head back and crying out for him. He continued his unrelenting pace, seeming completely unfazed by his own orgasm. "You like that, hm?" Suguru teased, a hand sliding down the curve of your hip, reaching under you, pressing his palm flat against where he felt himself protruding on your pelvis. "You like getting filled up with my cum, you want me to fuck a baby into you, darling?" His lewd words elicited muffled screams and cries of affirmation, your face buried in a pillow and biting down. Usually, Suguru would save his dirty talk for rough, frustrated, passionate sex, but how badly you needed him, begging him, to fill you up again had his mind hazy. He knew you well enough that you didn't have to tell him you were coming undone. "Such a good girl, you're so– so good, cum for me." Demanding words had you squeezing around his cock, the flutter and spasm of your orgasm urging him to move faster, harder, climbing another of his own release. Suguru was much more vocal this time around, hissing through clenched teeth, muttering sweet nothings and your name and I love you, I love you, I love you so much. Rutting and rolling his hips into you as he coated your walls white, his arm came around your chest and hugged you back against him. He pressed long, searing kisses into the shoulder his chin had been resting on, only pulling out from your messy cum-coated slick once he was sure you were satisfied with how thoroughly he bred you. You tiredly collapsed back into his chest, head turned to lazily gaze up at his equally tired, smiling face. He knew what transpired was irresponsible at best, the weight of parental responsibility already settling in the back of his mind. For now, he would simply entertain the idea. The inquisitive gaze you held had him chuckling, kissing your cheek tenderly, as if that would answer all the questions he could see you wanted to ask him. He never fed you lies, but when he told you everything will be okay, we'll find a way, I promise it sounded almost sincere enough to pass as the truth. Soft strokes of your hair lulled you to sleep, but Suguru found himself wide awake and staring at your beautiful lips, nose, lashes, the curve if your jaw, the dips of your collarbone. He found himself thinking of your words more than he should, knowing what the outcome would inevitably be. He came to the conclusion that for you, he would fight for his freedom. He would fight for you, for a family, for a normal life, somewhere warm and sunny. In this life, in the next life, in the afterlife, he would fight for you and love you with everything he had, his beautiful guardian angel.

[sparks-joy-imagines]

Girl, imagine Sukuna when he finds out that his girl is super kinky😌 like they're making out and he's roughly pulling at her hair and she lets a moan slip because she secretly likes pain or he smacks her ass while walking past her, somehow he forgot his strength and the slap was a lot harsher than usual, but then she moans and he's ready to the nasty in an instant😌 honestly, lovemarks, choking, spanking I'm all in for it😂

omfg FINALLY some Sukuna smut😩👌👌👌 you have no idea how long I've been waiting to get to business with him so thank you for this request~ I do hope you enjoy it, hun, 'cause I sure as hell did😏 -mesu. warnings: not sfw, reader gets penetrated, unsafe intercourse (pls don’t do this), rough, biting, some hair pulling, spanking, is Sukuna a warning himself? 'cause I feel like I have to include him in this.. Ryōmen Sukuna x f!reader

The human body was not compatible with the strength and stamina of a special grade curse. Sukuna had learnt this the hard way. The more powerful he grew, the more cautious he had to be in order not to just break his current partner or plaything, whatever was more accurate. It was no fun tearing his counterpart into shreds within mere seconds after all, and quite unfulfilling to say the least.

At times Sukuna had found someone somewhat more… durable. Not as easily broken. But eventually he had always ruined them. And then, there was you. You were the most precious thing in his life and he really didn’t want to risk losing you. So, he had been holding back this reckless side of his the best he could ever since you were with him. Still, he couldn’t help this certain itch he had whenever you looked at him. He longed to ruin you.

Sukuna snapped back to reality when your hand brushed through his hair. You had just taken a shower and were heading to get dressed, wrapped merely in a towel, when you passed him sitting on the couch. A low growl escaped Sukuna’s throat as he took you in and more out of reflex than anything else his hand found its way to your jiggly arse.

Smack!

Your eyes widened at the impact and your hand reached for your mouth to muffle the sound that unwillingly tried to escape your lips, but it didn’t cover them in time. The lewd moan sounded all but obscene and for a long moment you didn’t dare to move. When you finally gathered the courage to turn to Sukuna nothing of his formerly neutral expression remained.

He looked feral.

“Who would’ve thought that you’re such a bad bad girl, (Y/N),” he smirked when he easily jumped on his feet and took his sweet time to circle around the furniture, when all you could do was take steps back until you could feel the cool wall of your flat behind your back. You knew there was no way to escape what was to follow and the wetness that spread between your folds was the very proof that you didn’t even want to.

“Sukuna..,” you whispered but you shut up instantly when he crashed his hand against the wall beside your head and immediately let it sink into your hair, yanking your head in your nape. You whimpered softly in response and bit your lower lip to suppress another moan when you felt his lips at your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin.

While he was busy marking your neck, his free hand wandered to your hands which desperately held your towel in place. When you denied his first tug on the fabric, Sukuna pulled back to look at you, his lips swiftly being replaced by his other hand which tightened around your neck just enough to make you feel a certain restriction on your airflow.

“Now, for how long were you planning to keep this hidden from me?” Sukuna’s voice was monotone, almost disinterested but the burning in his dark eyes told you otherwise.

“I.. didn’t mean to hi-aahh~” You pressed your eyes shut when you felt his knee against your crotch.

“Didn’t mean to hide that you get off of pain and nasty shit?” Sukuna snorted as he simply ripped the towel away from your body, leaving you bare in front of him, “You’re already soaked and I didn’t even do anything to you… yet.”

The heat rose in your cheeks due to the sudden humiliation and you felt your very own juices slowly leaking down your thighs. You turned your head to the side, trying your best not to have to look at Sukuna but his thumb and index finger relentlessly grabbed your chin and made you face him.

“I will tell you how this is gonna go down, (Y/N),” Sukuna cooed, his eyes piercing into yours, “I will let go of you now and take my place back on the couch.”

Your eyebrows arched upwards in disbelief and a low chuckle escaped Sukuna’s throat, “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll follow me of course, good little girl that you are, and bend over my lap nicely, so I can properly punish you for keeping this juicy little secret of yours from me for so long.”

A shiver ran down your spine as he spoke and you couldn’t help but nod in response. You knew better than to defy this. To defy him.

“Splendid.”

Sukuna brushed an uncharacteristically sweet kiss on your lips and lowered his head to swirl his tongue around each of your nipples shortly before he turned to settle down on the couch. When you didn’t follow suit, he lifted his index finger to motion for you to approach without even granting you another glance and said in a sing-song voice, “You better not make me wait now, doll.”

You nibbled your lip contemplating for a split second before you stepped to Sukuna who patted his thighs for you to bend over, the bulge in his pants more prominent than you had ever seen it before.

As soon as you got into position on his thighs, Sukuna’s hand mercilessly connected to your bare buttock with a loud thud, making you jerk up and moan again which was followed by Sukuna’s own thrilled laughter.

“I adore your voice like that, sweet cheeks!”

You managed to have a peak at Sukuna’s expression that clearly showed how much he was enjoying this, before his hand came down onto your arse again. You huffed at the pain mixing with pleasure and clawed your hands in his thigh when you suddenly felt his fingers circling at your entrance. Sukuna didn’t seem to mind your nails in his flesh.

“My aren’t you soaked and ready for me, (Y/N). Want me badly?”

Before you managed to answer, he smacked your arse again, making you yelp out, “Aahh- Yes! Yes I want you bad, Sukuna!”

You wiggled on his thighs and soon felt his free hand grab your nape like a kitten that couldn’t behave to hold you in place. His fingers slipped into your wet folds cheekily, rubbing against your walls while he leaned down to murmur into your ear, “Let’s see how much of me you can take then, shall we? On your knees and arse up, darlin’.”

A shiver ran down your spine, your body already way too sensitive to his touch. Sukuna waited for you to shakily get on the floor and assume position, legs trembling under your own weight, and then stepped in front of you, calmly taking off his clothes. If not for his intense gaze that gave away his hunger for you, he looked rather unbothered.

Your mouth watered and you swallowed heavily when he took off his underwear, the tip of his large member twitching on sight. A wicked grin emerged on Sukuna’s features, “Bet you’d like to suck me off now, wouldn’t you.”

You lowered your gaze knowing your eyes would betray you and soon felt his hand pat your hair as he positioned himself behind you, grabbing your hips tightly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you taste my dick once I’m done with your tight pussy.”

Sukuna barely gave you a moment to comprehend his words, when he already slammed his entire length deeply into you, making you scream at the sudden intrusion. Up until now he had always taken his time to at least let you grow accustomed to his considerable size but now he started moving deep within you almost immediately.

You pressed your palms desperately against the floor, trying your best to hold balance while Sukuna kept thrusting into you at a merciless pace, hitting that sweet spot that only he seemed to know with every other thrust. His size spread you to your very limits and with each thrust you felt more like bursting.

More and more lewd noises escaped your mouth and seemed to motivate Sukuna to add even more strength to his movements, striving to push you to the edge. Just when your arms were about to give in, Sukuna moved his hands from your hips; one to your torso to cup your boob and hold you up at the same time; the other to the sensitive knot between your folds to finally finish you off.

“Cum for me, doll,” Sukuna growled lowly and when you felt his rough thumb brush over your clit the very moment his tip prodded your sweet spot, you did just that, accompanied by a scream of Sukuna’s name that you didn’t quite make out to be yours.

“Fuuuck,” Sukuna moaned as you contracted around him, making him fill you with his sticky seed. He continued to move in you for a couple more thrusts before he smoothly pulled out of you, letting you down on the floor while he spread your buttocks to watch his cum drip out of you while you caught your breath.

“Aren’t you a fine piece of nasty ass, (Y/N),” Sukuna chuckled after a while and carefully pulled you up so you could rest against his broad chest.

You gazed in his eyes and smirked while you let your hand innocently move to his crotch, “Maybe… so about that offer of yours…~”

[infernal-fire]

I love your dark Jake Jensen and I have a request for him, so the team gets in contact with reader for supplies for a mission an Jensen feels a spark between them so he makes every excuse to talk to reader to the point the team teased but helps him out with his grand scheme to get with reader but they don't know how far he'd go to make reader his ☺️💕 thanks

I love a good dark!jake fic!! I have changed the specifics a litttllle bit so i hope this is alright :)

Warnings: implied noncon/dubcon, some creepy behaviour, mention of stalking, drugging, mention of breeding kink

Summary: 5 days; that’s how long it takes him to become fixated on you.

Wc: 2k 

You’re My Delusion

They could have gone to any supplier. Fate would have it that Aisha wanted you, and only you. 

The melodious tune of a piano ringtone chimed in your bag. You ask the other daycare teacher to take over for you and picked up the phone: Unknown Number. You watched the phone ring until the line went dead and resumed your day. 

It may have been an ‘unknown number’, but your subconscious unequivocally knew who it was. Grumbling at the thought of being contacted again, you twisted the handle to your condo. Of course, you didn’t bat an eye when there was an envelope on your countertop, one that you didn’t put there; Aisha knew that you knew the phone would ring again, and if you didn’t answer, she would pay you a visit.

When Unknown Number flashed across your screen for the second time that day, you considered letting it go to voicemail again, but picked up anyway. 

“Aisha.”

“Y/N.”

“If you’re gonna ask me for an assist-”

Aisha cut you off. “I know you don’t do missions anymore. We need a safe house that’s off the books.”

“Who’s we?”

“They’re all men.” As if on cue, you heard someone guffaw in the background. “It’s making me lose my goddamn mind,” she elucidated. 

“You know I don’t really do this stuff anymore,” you huffed, “But I’m making an exception this one time. For you.” You could hear Aisha let out a squeal of happiness, and realized how bad it must be if she uncharacteristically showed excitement.

//

While cleaning up your old warehouse-turned-safehouse, Aisha’s words echoed in the back of your head. “Some of them are a little... bulky. Let them sleep on the floor.” You tried to protest, asking her, what’s the point of a safehouse if they aren’t resting well, but she dismissed the question. “Trust me. They’re nothing more than cavemen.”

It was 4 AM; foot tapping impatiently and sipping on the third coffee of the night, you smacked your forehead in frustration. It was way past bedtime. After living alongside Aisha for years, anyone would appreciate nights that consist of 8 hours of sleep. 

You could certainly appreciate it. Being a daycare teacher, living in a civilian condominium and not engaging in government work was something you couldn’t take for granted. Not after all the shit you’ve seen. 

3 brusque knocks sounded on the metal door to your right. Your head snapped to the source, waiting for Aisha to call out the code word. 

“LOSERS!” a voice hollered from the other side. You trudged to the door, trying to shake off the dizziness that came with standing up too fast. 

Opening the door with caution, you had only blinked a few times before a body pulled you into a tight embrace.

“You’re never this excited to see me. That bad, huh,” you sneered. 

“You have no idea.” Aisha pulled out of the hug and turned to face the men who had lined up nearby. 

“So… who’s this?” The guy with dirty blonde hair, nerd glasses and a horrible sense of fashion piped up. His whole appearance was an oxymoron to his build - muscles protruded out of the bright pink shirt that hugged him like a second skin. On the other hand, you couldn’t imagine him as anything more than a harmless golden retriever.

“Don’t ask as if you don’t know Jensen,” Aisha groused. You could practically hear her roll her eyes. 

“What’s your name, darling?” another guy spoke. He exuded the energy of a leader; you looked him straight in the eyes and gave him your name. 

The golden retriever repeated your name as if to try out the taste of it on his tongue. You gave him a lopsided, close-mouthed smile and asked Aisha for her teammates’ names. 

“You don’t need to learn their names.” She stalked off, unwilling to be a part of the conversation any longer. 

The guy you had assumed was the leader sighed at her attitude before introducing himself as ‘Clay’. He pointed at each person and gave you their titles. 

“Okay so you’re Clay, that’s Cougar, Roque,” you skipped over Jake, “and Pooch.” 

“Me?” Jake softly inquired.

The rest of the team began picking up their things and walking away, but not before Pooch nudged Jensen with his shoulder and winked. The puppy-like man flushed in response and rubbed the nape of his neck.

“What about you?” you asked once you were alone. 

“You didn’t say my name.” 

“I know it’s Jake… but can I call you ‘daddy’ instead?” 

He froze up, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Relax Jakey,” you put a hand on his chest, “I’m only teasing.” You winked and strutted away, snickering to yourself at how he looked like he was about to pass out.

The entire team was trying to egg you and Jensen on. Well, not the entire team. 

Aisha and Roque couldn’t care less, and Cougar did nothing more than smirk at your playful banter. 

Often, Jensen would start a conversation that would escalate quickly, your witty dialogue interrupting his rationale. You thought it was adorable how he didn’t know how to respond; a guy like him could have fantastic game, but he was too much of a sweetheart, not the mention, way too awkward. 

One particular night, you let down your guard, just enough to actually get to know him. 

“You seem like a really supportive uncle,” you commented at his excitement for his niece’s next soccer game. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. I wish my parents would have done this for me.”

“Done what?”

“You know… Tell me they’re proud of me.”

“Well Jake... I think you should know, that I’m proud of you for everything you’re doing for the country.”

Jake looked up at you, sporting the signature look of the uncertainty of how to respond. It didn’t take a genius to be able to tell that he wasn’t used to being praised. 

“Thank you. That means a lot more than you know,” he quietly responded. 

The rest of the night was spent in a solemn, yet understanding silence, one that both of you were oddly comfortable with. 

Unfortunately, that would also be the last time you saw him. 

Or so you think. 

The mission went sour, and for the first time since retirement, you wished you had assisted. Maybe if you assisted, the mission wouldn’t have gone south. Maybe if you assisted... you would have been able to say goodbye. 

Without even realizing it, Jake had burrowed a little hole into your heart. You hoped life could go on with the little leak in your pump. Regardless, there is no time for sulking; after all, no amount of reminiscing would change the way things happened.

It had been months after Aisha and the team went back into hiding but you were faring well. Life as you knew it had continued without a trace of the burly, soft man-baby. You almost forgot about the ordeal, up until that day. Perhaps it was fate that had you switch the TV on at that time. You would never know.

A team of rogue CIA agents, presumed to be dead, have now infiltrated a crime branch operating within the US government. They have been pardoned from their status as “Enemies of State” but can no longer work for the CIA taskforce, as their identities have been indefinitely compromised. 

You blinked at the screen, watching Aisha’s name and picture appear. Subsequently, there was Clay, Pooch, Jensen, Cougar and Roque. You were happy for them.

Pooch could go back home to his wife. It was hard to imagine what it must have been like for the missus; pregnant and alone. Though you didn’t know Pooch that well, you knew he was a good partner and husband. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your front door shutting and clicking in place. Your hand frantically pressed the ‘volume up’ button on the TV as you hurled for the handgun under your pillow. 

Sliding to the wall beside the door, you cautiously peered into the dark hallway and made out a large figure. You huffed quietly before appearing in the doorframe with your gun pointing straight at the mystery guy. At this point, you had a good idea of who it was, but you wanted to mess with him anyway. “Hands up, and not another step forward.” 

He tried to speak, but you cut him off. 

“Don’t. speak,” you punctuated each word. Reaching for the light switch, you flipped on the hallway light. The dim light revealed your golden retriever standing there with his eyes wide open in fear. 

“Don’t shoot?” he said, like a question. 

You grinned and tucked the gun into your waistband.

“What are you doing here?”

“Thought I should come see you.” 

“You could have knocked, like a normal person.”

He shrugged sheepishly. 

“How do you know where I live?” you questioned. To that, he fiddled with his fingers and looked down. 

“Only Aisha knows this place. And I know she would have never told you.” You intently stared at him while leaning into the nearest wall and folding your arms.

Jake didn’t want to tell you that he had been stalking you. Every spare moment he had during the remainder of the mission was spent tracking you. After a few weeks, it felt as though you had moved on. It pained him, to say the least.

“I- uhm,” he looked up at you and took a step forward, “Hey, I just-...” He stopped when you reached for your handgun again, now wary of his intentions.

He put his hands back up. 

“I wanted to ask you out properly.”

“What do you mean ‘properly’? We were never going out, to begin with.”

Before you understood the spur of movement, Jake lunged for you and plucked the handgun out of your pyjama’s waistband, throwing it over the railing of your staircase. You tried to kick him, but he pricked you without giving you a moment to react. 

“What did you give me?” You clutched your neck in the spot he sunk the needle. 

“I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do that,” he exhaled. He tried to hold you, but you weakly pushed him off, still trying to recover from the shock of his betrayal. 

“Takes 5 minutes to really work,” he scratched his neck. 

Then there was the fight. You gave it your all but with no weapon or leverage, you were going up against 200 pounds of pure muscle who was hell-bent on restraining you for some reason. 

2 minutes into the fight, you began to really feel the effects of whatever he gave you. He point-blank caught a punch that you tried to drill into his sternum. You look up at him incredulously, unable to still believe that he was trying to take you down right now. 

At last, he snapped. 

“Listen to me,” he grasped both your hands.

You momentarily struggled, but your shoulders slumped and you gave up on trying to free your wrists. 

“How could you move on without me?” he asked, attempting to look you in your eyes. You wouldn’t meet them. 

“Jake, you are delusional! I barely had a crush on you for 5 days,” you cried, letting the wetness spread over your cheeks freely. At this point, it was clear, what he was here for. 

“You should know, those 5 days were some of the best in my 29 years of living. I want that for the rest of my life.”

“Why couldn’t you have done this like a normal person?” You finally met his eyes with an excess of tears blurring your vision. 

“You keep saying that,” he began, letting go of your arms and wiping your tears, “but you know that you and I are not normal.” Jake leaned down to kiss your forehead. 

Your legs were beginning to buckle, but Jake caught you, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He strode into your bedroom as if he had been there a thousand times, put you down on the bed gently, and brushed the hair out of your face. 

Here we have Sergeant Linwood ‘Pooch’ and his wife reuniting. It is the first time he has seen her since his last mission, before disappearing. It is also the first time he will be seeing his child. Definitely, an emotion reun-

Your captor turned off the TV and turned to smile at you.

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” he asked, but seemed as if he were talking to himself. 

You couldn’t respond, all your muscles now refusing to attend to your demands. Instead, more tears streaked down your face. 

“A baby,” he whispered, “Yes, that would be nice.”

Masterlist

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[oneofthosesimps]

Martyr

pairing: levi x reader I nsfw

word count: 5729

summary: after a long day and lots of tension, levi takes care of you and fucks you into your dilirium

warnings: choking (i mean like you get no air at all), rough sex, dirtytalk, swearing, sub x dom

authors note: ok, i'm absolutely not satisfied with the fanfic, but i've been sitting on it for way too long and i have to get it out now, because i can't work on anything else. the next one will be better, i promise.

all credits to the artist of this pic

i hope that's right

-----

"They're miserable" Oluo says to you and wrinkles his nose. You look at Marco Bott in front of you, hanging in the ropes of the ODM gear and trying with all his might to keep his balance.

A gust of air swirls individual leaves around you, causing a few strands of your hair to fall into your face. The ropes of the ODM gear blow back and forth slightly and this small movement completely throws Bott off balance. You can see the effort and sweat beading on his face, he clenches his teeth tightly before panic overcomes him. His body can't find balance and he starts to row his arms, but it's too late. He topples over backwards and with a dull thud his head hits the stone floor. "Pathetic," you mutter, grabbing your forehead with your hand. Actually, such an impact shouldn't even happen, but judging by the appearance, since Bott slipped out of the leather straps, he hadn't fastened them properly. "The students are a disaster," Oluo says in your direction, and you nod slightly at him.

"Okay, Bott, out of the harnesses! Arlert, you're up next!" he shouts to the other group members, then runs to Marco to help him out of his predicament.

Your eyes roam over the other groups and their contraptions. Oluo was right with his statement. It's been a long time since you've seen such a pile of work. There are individual exceptions like Mikasa Ackerman or Annie Leonhardt, but as mentioned before, these are only exceptions. The rest are doing just as poorly as Bott. A long sigh escapes you.

"They are a bunch of shit.” Your hackles stand up and a cold shiver runs down your spine. The goosebumps start at your shoulders and then spread down your arms. Your heart seems to skip a beat.

"Yes, they are, Captain." Oluo stands next to you again and your captain joins in as well. Out of the corner of your eye, you look to your left at Levi, who looks straight ahead with his arms folded in front of his chest.

"Oi, Arlert, you're a disgrace to our troop. Get a grip."

"Yes, sir," Armin shouts back, but you can see the uncertainty Levi's words bring and his whole-body tenses. He also loses his balance, his body swings backwards and he hangs upside down in the ropes, like Marco Bott before - at least he doesn't hit his head.

"What did I tell you!!! Tighten the center!" roars Oluo, stomping his feet as he makes his way to Arlert.

A breeze comes up again, stronger this time, and the cadets have great difficulty keeping their balance. In fact, everyone sails back, except, to your surprise, Connie Springer, who is cheered on by the rest of his group. You pull your jacket tighter around you, hoping it would catch some of the spring wind, but you shiver anyway.

"Your jaw is tight," Levi's deep voice says beside you, and you turn your gaze to him in surprise. His grey eyes look down at you from above and you swallow hard. He's such a handsome man. His shoulders show well through his uniform and his shirt tightens a bit at his chest due to his muscles. His eyes sparkle slightly from the sun shining on his face. The wind has spread some hair on his forehead and your fingertips start to tickle. How you would like to brush them away. You clench your hands into fists to stop yourself.

"Didn't even realize it," you reply, turning your gaze back to Oluo and Arlert to stay calm. Your heart drums a little in your chest. Your comrade is trying his best to help him and give him instructions and assistance.

"To be honest, your whole body is tense". You feel Levi's calm gaze still resting on you and you put your head back and stare at the sky. A few clouds drift across the sky, white and fluffy.

"It's been a busy day, too." Your eyes shift back to him and you both look into each other's eyes. His grey eyes seem almost a bright silver. He studies you more closely and the corners of his mouth lift up ever so slightly. "Understandable, with this bunch of idiots." You roll your eyes and have to grin slightly before sighing again. It was admittedly leaching to complete the first training sessions with new cadets. They are all so full of anticipation before harsh reality catches up with them and about a third of all are sent back home - if they still have a home after Wall Maria was breached and Shiganshina District had to be left.

Of course, it was little different for you back then, but you performed solidly right from the start and made it to the top 3 of all graduates after hard training. That was also the reason why Levi included you in his squad.

Nonetheless, you just got annoyed and wanted a break from all the frustration and instruction you had to give. Being a teacher is not the reason you joined the Survey Corps.

Levi is just opening his mouth to say something when Petra's loud voice echoes across the square.

"Captain, I need your help." Over Levi's shoulder, you can see her, hands flailing in the air. Levi clicks his tongue and his expression changes, becomes slightly annoyed. You do the same. He leans over to you, his head right next to yours. His strong scent of black tea and citrus rises to your nose and your knees go weak. His hot breath hits the shell of your ear and goosebumps cover your body again. "I'll make you feel better later." Your heart starts beating faster and a deep blush settles over your cheeks. You hold your breath as he turns and walks with strong strides back to his spot by Petra, the Wings of Freedom emblazoned large on his back.

"Tch, I haven't seen a fucking weakling like that in a long time, Yaeger," you hear him shout further back. Again, a slight grin comes over you.

"Ma'am, can you help me with the straps?" calls Christa Renz over to you. She snaps you out of your thoughts and you come back to yourself. You expel your long-held breath and make your way over to her.

The rest of the training was like chewing gum compared to before. The remaining part of your group wasn't a total bust, but Levi's words left a sweet note and butterflies in your stomach. Your whole body tingled with joy and the scenarios in your head took their own course. Every now and then your gaze swung to Levi, even as you have pulled yourself together, but the temptation was far too great. And then when he caught your gaze, you could see the change in him even across the distance. At one point you even thought he winked at you, which was the most uncharacteristic thing ever for him, but just the pure thought that you were right made your knees weak again. For this reason, you were more concerned with your students, who were not very happy about it. You had the reputation of being almost as strict as Levi - but with less insults - and that although your size made you look more like a dwarf. At the end of the training, the Levi Squad then condemned the worst to clean up the mess. The sun was lower by now, it was late afternoon and the wind was blowing stronger. You walked together as a group back to the large building and followed the cadets to the mess hall.

As usual, you took your food first before the rest could strike, which you were more than happy about. At least on days when there was meat, it was always an advantage for everything and everyone to fill their plates before Sasha Blouse. Her love for food was immeasurable. After her, there wasn't that much left for others to lead and sharing was out of the question for her. You plod along behind Eld with your full plate and settle into the seat next to him and Oluo.

"What a day, huh guys?" groans Petra, sliding onto the bench across from you, followed by Gunther and then Levi, who grabs the seat across from yours.

You stare at the potatoes, meat and bread in front of you and start eating, almost burning yourself.

The others do the same, while Levi drinks his tea and lets his gaze roam the room to observe the other cadets.

"There, you say something. I wonder when it's going to be expedition time again. Time to kill some titans again, isn't it?" grins Oluo next to you, poking you in the side. You give him a dry look. "You mean so I can do all the work again and you can rest?" Oluo blushes slightly, whether from anger or shame, and slashes at the table with his knife in his right hand.

"I was here long before you even got around to it, kid".

"That makes your 39 kills all the sadder," you mock, and the others stifle their laughter.

Oluo contorts his face and is about to open his mouth when Eld slaps him on the back, "Oh Oluo, I can still remember when you wet yourself on your first expedition."

The blow startles Oluo slightly and he yelps in pain. He slaps his hand over his mouth and contorts his face. "I bit my tongue," he mumbles, which really makes the others laugh now. You, on the other hand, just roll your eyes again and are pleased inwardly.

No matter how much you get on each other's nerves sometimes, you are a family that always stands up for each other. Most of the happy moments you can still remember were spent with this group. Each had its strengths and weaknesses, which in turn compensated for another. Your gaze falls on each of them as they still laugh and Oluo still complains before you look at Levi.

Again, your breath catches slightly. His gaze pierces you and holds you spellbound. He looks at you as he slowly eats. A shiver runs down your spine again and you press your legs together. His gaze is intense and deep, going straight to your soul. His silver eyes are darker and possessive. No one at the table seems to notice what's happening, as Levi has always been good at hiding your personal moments. It's a mystery to you how he did it since you always felt caught and like your body didn't really belong to you. He was the one thing that always upset you and left you breathless. You smile slightly at him and his gaze darkens even more, making you swallow.

"Captain, how about a little break for us tonight? We could all sit down together for a bit and have a little drink," Petra catches your attention. She blushes slightly and you have to suppress the gagging. Never, never, would Levi ever feel anything for Petra. Everyone liked her, including him and yourself, of course, but not in that way. They were much too different for that and didn't have the same goals. But you had already noticed how Petra looked at Levi and blushed and bit her lip and stroked through her hair and smiled and laughed extra and positioned herself well and always stood next to him, sat down, tried to work with him, always addressed him directly, took him in protection. You were never jealous because Levi never gave you a reason to be, but Petra made it really hard for you sometimes. Especially since no one, except Hange, of course, knew about how things were between Levi and you.

"Oi, your hand," Gunther says, touching it. You recoil and realize how your hand hurts. You clutch your knife tightly, your knuckles white. Everyone is looking at you. You let go of it and it falls to the table before you mumble a quiet apology and continue eating. Speaking of which, you were bad at hiding your feelings for Levi. The others let go of you and turn their attention back to Petra and Levi.

"Tch, do what you want, I still have workto do". Petra looks slightly disappointed and starts eating again. The rest of the meal was quieter as everyone was busy filling their bellies. Eld and Gunther are the first to leave before Levi raises his voice. "Oi, Petra, take my dishes away as soon as you finished". The girl seems hopeful for a brief moment before Levi smashes her hopes. He looks at you and your almost empty plates. "... And the other one here too".

With these words he straightens up. You look up at him. "Would you help me just now?" His eyes show a sparkle again and your gaze falls on Petra and Oluo for a brief moment before you nod. With those words, he trots off. You quickly get up, say goodbye, and walk after him. Your path past the cadets is quiet and the murmuring around you also quiets, which always happened when Levi was around. No one would dare to accidentally say something that might upset him. Levi headed for the stone stairs in the hallway, down the long hallway to the door of his office. A few torches flicker on the wall, lighting your way, even with the sun still providing more than enough light from outside. All the while, you follow him quietly until he unlocks the door and both of you step inside.

You close the door behind you with a soft click and turn around. Levi is standing in front of you with his arms folded in front of his chest. He leans slightly against his desk and examines you from top to bottom. The evening sun shines through the window behind him and strong shadows stand out on his face. "How are you?" You bite your lower lip and swallow hard. "Pretty good, I guess," you say and avert your gaze, looking down at the ground. You continue to feel his gaze and you blush slightly. Your breathing gets a little heavier and you swallow again. The tension in this room is heavy and oppressive. The energy between you is crackling and the hairs on your arms are standing up. It is amazing how different Levi could behave. Toward everyone else on the planet, he was an ass, no question about it. But to you, he treated you like you were a flower that would wilt if he didn't take proper care of it. You bite your lower lip. Levi's footsteps come toward you until he's standing right in front of you and you can look at his shoes. He puts a finger under your chin and lifts your face. His eyes are impenetrable, and he can probably read you again like one of his books.

"You know better than to bite your lip," he whispers to you. He places his left hand against the door behind you and leans against you. His eyes pull you in before you close them and feel his lips on yours. In the background, you hear him turn the key in the lock, locking you in this room. His teeth graze over your bottom lip and he captures it, sucking on it before releasing it. "I'll do that for you, won't I?" A low moan escapes you and you open your eyes again. He was even closer to you, your noses almost grazing each other, and his hot breathing and warmth befuddle you.

"Remember what I promised you earlier?" You nod and lick your lips. His gaze immediately darts to that movement before he looks into your soul again. "Repeat it."

"You promised me that you would make me feel better".

A slight smile curls his lips and he takes your face in his right hand. You nestle into it and your heart flutters.

"So, do you still want this?" What a question, you think and nod slightly, kissing the inside palm of his hand and staring at him. Please make me feel good. Again, he has to smirk slightly and presses a feather-light kiss to your forehead before stepping away from you, taking his warmth with him. He steps back to his desk and resumes his previous posture there. His face and body tension are harder and his eyes seem much darker than before.

"Take off your clothes," comes his instruction. His voice is also low and hard. You look at him a little unsettled and surprised before you start undoing the buttons of your blouse. His gaze follows your movements and he tilts his head slightly. You kick your shoes aside. The removal of your pants in particular seems to fascinate him, and you swear you saw a sparkle in his eyes as your bra and panties follow the other garments as well. So, you stand in front of him, shivering slightly from the temperature difference, causing your nipples to poke hard at him and your skin to be covered in goosebumps again. He licks his lips and takes off his jacket, placing it on his desk behind him. He undoes the straps that wrap around his torso and sets them aside as well.

"Kneel down." You do as you were told and kneel on the cold wooden floor. This causes the cold to shoot more strongly through your body and you shake yourself slightly. Levi is still watching you and slowly lets his gaze roam over you. After your next blink, he rises and steps to the other side of his desk, which faces his window. He opens the first drawer on the left and pulls out something. After closing it, he comes back to your side and slowly steps towards you. You are a little surprised at what he just did since you can't see anything in his hands. He stops in front of you and looks down. You follow his hands, which reach for the buttons of his shirt, which he then slowly opens bit by bit. His gaze stares at you again, while he moves as if in slow motion. For you, it was all much too slow and with each button your heart beat a beat faster again. If it were up to you, you would have torn it from his body so that the buttons would fly across the room. But your hands remain still in your lap as you wait for each button. Finally arriving at the last one, he undoes it as well before slipping his shirt off his torso. His shoulders and arms work as he does so, and your knees soften. You love his body, he's a god. With all the years of training and fighting experience, it goes without saying that he is trained, but his cross and arms especially make your heart weak. You don't know what that is because of, but it's just a preference of yours on him. One of the many you have to mention about it. And you love every single scar from his skin you've run along them so many times with your lips and fingers. Slowly your temperature changes. Your body becomes warm and you notice how your center becomes moist. He reaches into his right pants pocket and pulls out a long piece of rope. Your breath catches and your eyes widen. Levi still just looks at you and plays with it a bit, tightens it and let’s go again. As he does, the muscles under his skin play again, looking indescribable with the setting sun in the background. Veins come out from under his skin and you pull your eyebrows together in frustration. He shines like a saint that you love to cling to so that he can keep all the evil in the world away from you.

"Hands behind your back." Immediately you do as he said and follow him as long as you can with your gaze as he walks around you and then kneels behind you. His fingers are warm as they graze your skin and he ties the rope around your wrists to join your two hands together. After he's done, he runs his hands up your arms, touching the haunches above your collarbones for seconds before pulling his hands away again.

"Close your eyes," he whispers in your right ear. The last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut are the last rays of the sun, which bathe the room in a deep orange-red. You feel something being placed over your eyes. Levi ties the piece of cloth to the back of your head and then rises. As soon as you realize he's done, your eyes open briefly, only to see deep black. Butterflies spread through your lower stomach and you press your lips together to stifle a moan. With excitement and anticipation, you feel more wetness between your legs and squirm slightly to create some pressure, but to no avail. Now without sight, you rely more on your ears and the sounds of the environment around you. Levi moves quietly around the room, you locate him at his desk and hear him light a match. The smell of smoke fills the room. When he seems to be finished, he moves back toward you. You hear the rattle of the buckles of his belts, which then fall to the floor with a sound. He loosens one strap after another until the sounds stop. You feel his presence in front of you and squeeze your legs together again. Fabric rustles before it's quiet again. Suddenly, a hand reaches into your hair and pulls your head almost painfully to the back of your neck. Air escapes your throat and you make a surprised sound.

"Open your mouth." Levi's voice seems even deeper than usual and hard, almost cold. You open it on command and stick out your tongue. You hear him smirk and feel one of his fingers, which slowly works its way to your throat. "I raised you so well," Levi murmurs, and you suck on his finger. Shortly after, two more join him. "I'm going to use you so well. You're going to do exactly what you were made to do: choke on my cock and milk it afterwards." A long moan escapes you and you suck on his fingers, your tongue playing with them before withdrawing them again. A feather-light touch brushes over your left nipple and you sigh. "I saw the look on your face earlier. How shamelessly you fantasize about such things while your cadets are in front of you and that idiot Oluo is standing next to you. How I would have loved to take his place". Your saliva causes your nipples to harden again as the cold air swirls around them. The hand in your hair loosens. Shortly after, you feel something warm and soft against your lips. Your mouth opens again and you groan. Levi's cock slides between your teeth into the roof of your mouth and he moans out too. "Fuck, finally." You feel the wetness between your legs run down your thigh before it drips onto the floor. Levi's hand finds its way into your hair again, and he pulls his hips back before they shoot forward again and his cock buries itself in your mouth once more. He holds this speed for some time. You get warmer and warmer, especially at the thought of you kneeling there right now in front of him and him using your mouth. "You're doing so good, slut," Levi murmurs from above, thrusting harder. The sound of your mouth smacking and his increasingly heavy breathing echoes through the room. You taste a few drops of his juice and your eyes roll back into your skull. Again, a long moan escapes you and the hand in your hair grips harder. Slight pain jolts through your scalp and goosebumps form on your skin again.

"Your mouth is so warm and wet. Just not as tight as your cunt, but I can change that". His cock finds its way deeper into your throat, almost hitting the back it before withdrawing completely. For a brief moment you feel his lips on yours, his tongue exploring the path his cock had paved earlier. He tastes himself on your lips and wants much more of it. The kiss is wild and he leaves you with throbbing, swollen lips. "Tongue out." Before you can take a breath, you're sticking it out at him again. He slaps his cock on it a few times before burying himself inside you again with one smooth thrust. His entire length fills your mouth, and you gag slightly as his tip sticks way too deep in your throat. Levi doesn't let up though, keeping you that way before resuming his previous speed and hardness. You squeeze your eyes shut, but tears escape your eyelids anyway. They wet the fabric on your eyes and find their way along under it, flowing down your cheeks and dripping on your legs. The more your throat hurts, the heavier Levi's breathing becomes. His balls hit your chin and his second hand finds its way into your hair as well, holding you in place.

"You feel so good," his deep, dry voice comes out. "...The way you sit here in front of me and suck me so good. Other men dream about it. Who would believe what a slut you are?" You moan and the vibration makes him wince and he claws into your scalp. As best you can, you slide your tongue around his shaft, grasping his tip, sucking on him while his hips keep thrusting. Your mouth and neck feel painful and your jaw hurts from the constant mouthing. As your tongue touches his balls, his hips twitch and he pulls back breathlessly. His cock pulls out of you again and you gasp for air. You cough heavily and saliva runs down the corners of your mouth.

Suddenly, Levi's hands push at your hips and pull you upward. Your legs are jello, which is why he catches your weight and supports you. The soles of your feet touch the ground for only a few moments before you feel his shoulder against your stomach and your face comes to rest on his back. The air is forced from your lungs and blood rushes to your head. He grips the rope at your wrists, thus holding you tight before he moves. “Levi, I want more”, you mumble and feel the juice running between your legs. He opens the door to his bedroom and carries you to his bed, where he lays you down somewhat roughly. The room smells like him. The bed linen is freshly washed, which is normal for him. The smell of tea is also heavy in the air, as well as its own note, which is that of Levi himself. “Tch, it's clear to me that you little bitch can't get enough. But do not worry, my big cock will fill you up in a minute.”

He turns you onto your stomach and pulls your butt up and towards him. You feel his warm breath at your center and your muscles tremble. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself for being so wet?" He blows against your wet lips and you squirm slightly under him. You feel his tongue licking once along your slit. You moan loudly as you finally get some touch before his hand hits your right ass cheek and you howl in pain. Without warning, his cock drills deep into your cunt and your moans mingle in the small space, echoing out to you. Immediately, Levi picks up the pace he had earlier while fucking your mouth. You jerk beneath him, moaning into the mattress beneath you, and your fingernails each dig into the wrist of the other arm. Again, Levi's hand closes around the rope and he pulls you up to him, grasping your throat with his other hand and biting your shoulder. You moan his name loudly and press against the warmth of his chest. He licks over the bite marks and fucks you harder. Your walls close tightly around his cock and he moans loudly next to your ear. "How tight can you get?" he murmurs, and his hand around your throat squeezes tighter. His fingers are right against your main arteries. Your air gets shorter, your pulse beats faster to push the blood into your head, but because of the pressure from his fingers it doesn't work. Light panic overcomes you and mixes with your lust. "Levi...I-I," you try to say before everything around you goes black. Your whole-body collapses and you can't finish your sentence. He immediately releases the pressure of his hand before you finally lose consciousness and the blood rushes back to your head. The difference in pressure makes you dizzy as you slowly regain consciousness. His thrusts don't stop, his endurance was immeasurable. He moans into your neck and your whole belly tingles with satisfaction. Your moans get louder again.

"Again?"

"Yes," you groan out. You hear him laugh softly before the pressure around your throat intensifies again and the scenario from just now repeats itself. The mixture of dizziness and pleasure is a deadly mix. Nothing feels better and you want more, more and more, but Levi knows exactly when to stop before he puts your little body through too much. As you come to yourself again, Levi loosens his hand around the rope and wraps his arm around your stomach. He presses you tighter against him, holding your weak body tight. "You're the biggest slut," he murmurs against your ear. The hand on your belly slowly strokes to your pelvic bones, slowly finding its way between your legs. He circles your clit with his middle finger, making you twitch and squirm against his chest as you praise his name. His lips settle on your neck, beginning to suck as his hand pushes deeper. He feels his own cock thrusting into you and adds his index and middle fingers, burying them in your creamy hole as well, which they grip tightly, and your moans grow louder again. No one must ever know what Levi does with you during all those hours in his bedroom. No one would probably believe it. How many marks he has left on your body, how many times he has cut off your air, how many times he has fucked you into unconsciousness, left your cunt sore. If Levi would be a religion, you would be its first martyr.

You lay your head in your neck and his hand around your throat rests on your forehead, pressing your head back. This makes it easier for him to get to your throat with his mouth. He licks away the sweat next to the mark before making more. "I'm so sick of no one knowing what I do to you," he hums against your neck. "I'm so fed up with the fact that some complete idiots actually still think they have a chance with you, can fuck you the way I'm doing right now". At these words he fucks you incessantly, his two fingers in addition inside you, which stretch you further and you are in heaven. Your delirium is near. He feels his way forward, curves his fingers, massages the inside of your walls. He just can't get to your g-spot due to the extra space his dick takes up and you will think you are going insane. "Even though yes I love how jealous you get of Petra. Tch, as if I would touch that filthy bitch." His thrusts get even harder and your whole-body tenses, groaning in pain. "No one can give me what you give me," he whispers. No one could give him the power he had over you. He could do whatever he wanted with you and you would get wet with lust and horniness. You were a dream come true, not just in that way. Levi loves you more than anything else in the world, even if he never says it, but deep inside you know it.

The thumb of his hand moves between your legs again to your clitoris and presses against it. A second, two seconds pass before you explode. Your vision goes white despite your blindfold, your body writhes, the muscles in your thighs twitch wildly, and you scream the room together. His name falls from your lips again as he fucks you through your orgasm. Each thrust brings sparks, his lips on your neck and his hands on and inside you. As your body slowly calms, he releases you, removes his hands, and pushes you back into the mattress. Your face shifts over the fabric before he has you back in the right position. His right leg settles next to your hip and you hear the bed creak beneath you. He continues to increase his speed, getting harder. His head settles into your neck and he moans loudly as he fucks you, finally meeting his end. Tears run down your cheeks as your body is drained, screaming at you to take a break. But the sensation between your legs pulls through your body again, making you moan once more. His hands dig painfully into your ass before Levi explodes inside you. His juice squirts into you and your name falls from his lips, giving you butterflies again. He thrusts with light strokes before gradually slowing down and dropping against your body.

He gives himself a brief moment before rising from you and untying your hands. without any remaining body tension, you fall onto the mattress beneath you and tear the blindfold from your head. The room is dark. The sun has set in time and your sense of time is confused. The light from the candle in the office brings a little light into the room, so that you can make out the outlines of the furniture.

"Better?" You hum to him and snuggle into the blanket beneath you. "Oi, I'll run us a bath, don't fall asleep." You grumble again and look after him as he leaves you alone and drained in the dark room.

[internalsealpanic]

Death Cannot Take You

Summary: You died. You should have died, yet here you are having the audacity to still be walking. 

A/n: This is semi abandoned old guard au. I made it for 3 reasons. 1) I love Old Guard. 2) I love writing resurrection scenes cus it makes my brain calm. 3) This is a poly that I am desperate for.  

Warning: Violence, kidnapping, terrible explanations, and blatant disregard for patient care. 

The world shook violently as it staggered into view— blotchy patches of fluorescent lights and rough textures. Drowning the heavy scrape of metal is a chorus of thumping and ringing in your ears. Your hands fly to the seat in front of you, cold metal pressed against hot skin as the train rattles on. It makes your stomach lurch, dredging out its contents. 

Crumpled in your seat, you heave a ragged breath. You retch, the contents of your stomach burning in your esophagus. You screw your eyes shut unable to take another long gulp of air; it stung to breathe in the piss heavy air. You need to breathe. You need the oxygen. You need your mind in working order. Sucking in a greedy lungful, you cough it out, body rejecting it. 

There was a heat.

A pulse. 

A pistol.

A laugh. 

You can remember the wetness of saliva and blood and tears on your face as the warmth bled out of your fingertips. 

It was cold. 

It was so cold. 

Your heartbeat picks up. It’s getting harder to breathe. Your windpipe is closing. The world is getting smaller. The bones in your hands are rattling. 

A cry pries itself out of your chest, tearing its way out of your mouth. They’re not stopping. They’re still laughing. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

Please god, no. 

With another violent rattle, your consciousness slips. 

You’re cold again. Shadows grasp at the corners of your vision. The world is blotchy— a patch of tangling threads. 

The alley smells of piss and garbage. The smell is thick enough to make you choke. Your heart had stopped a while ago. No, your mind did. No, it was your heart you’re sure. No, no. It was his heart that stopped. 

It’s cold. Someone is crying out for you. It’s your father. You’re scared. Your blue eyes are fading in color. You’ve faced death before— No, not you. He has. He’s faced death always with a smile but now with his heart at a complete stand still he’s sure this is it. He’s sure this is how he dies. It isn’t on the trapeze or because of some cookie plan made by a costumed nut case. Your— his heart stops. 

He died. 

So did he. There’s another man. He’s lying on the battlefield. The sky is so pretty. You can hear canonfire. There’s another man beside him. He’s dying too. Your fair hair is matted red. Your— his flesh is reknitting itself. It’s— The whole in his— your stomach is closing the whole in it.  You’re gasping for breath. The alley doesn’t stink of piss and garbage; it smells like cotton fields and summer heat. 

He died.

You died. 

There’s a buzzing in the air— the thrum of electricity as it writhes in the wires. Bouncing your leg, you wait for the receptionist to call your name. Anxiety sings in your veins like a chorus of scraping metal. 

You don’t remember what happened last night— not clearly. 

It’s all a melting pot of images and voices and touches. 

You cup your hand over your mouth, the stomach acid burning its way up your esophagus. Your tongue is tacky with dried saliva and the lingering taste of copper. They’re laughing. They’re all still laughing. The ringing in your ears won’t stop. 

You fold. Legs curl up into your chest as you dip your head under. Eyes sliding shut, you let the darkness pool in your mind. The vague sounds in the emergency room coalescing into a discordant symphony. You let yourself dream again. 

You lift your head up slowly, colors bleeding into view. The words don’t make sense. 

“Kid, are you ok?” 

You regard the large man with the open—mouthed confusion of a fish. He’s handsome in a rough sort of way— grisled with a full beard, cropped hair, and gunmetal blue eyes— eye. He’s got an eye patch. You swallow. Your lungs inflate as they inhale the sterile scent of the room. The smell of hand sanitizer is too thick. He’s tall. You crane your neck to look up at him. It hurts. He must easily be 6’3”, maybe even taller. His chest is broad and through the shirt, he’s wearing you can see the expanse of taut well—defined muscles. His lips are curved up at one side in a lopsided smirk. Your head is pounding. You shut your eyes, vigorously nodding your head. You know what he’s staring at. You know what his eyes— eye— are trained on. 

You… You haven't changed. The crisp white shirt you’d worn to your job is dark and wrinkly with dried blood.  You hate it. You hate how uncharacteristically messy you look; it makes you feel off—model, like something that is a cluttered version of you.  

You curl up again. This time the ringing in your ears blocks out everything else.  Your head dips back into the dark. It’s cold and stuffy and your ears were ringing when they—

Your eyes fly open and there’s a figure in front of you. You squint. The figure is smaller, less broad; a nursing assistant with kind eyes stands over you with a clipboard. You breathe. You turn your head to the man from before. He’s standing next to a man— younger, shorter. He looks dwarfed next to the other man but he’s average height and it would be funny if you had the energy. You’re far enough away that you can’t be sure of his features but it’s not hard to tell that he’s pretty.  He’s got rich brown skin, black hair, and a gymnast’s poise. He’s familiar. Both of them are. They’re talking to the police. You freeze.  

Are they here for you? Who are they?

“I need you to follow me back into the ER,” she says gently, grip firmly grasping your shoulder. You run your hand through your matted hair. Your hand comes back slick and sticky with sweat and dried blood. The oxygen in your lungs stutters. You feel another squeeze on your shoulder.  You’re back. You’re not whole but you’re back. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak, legs wobbling beneath you as you stand. 

You follow her. It’s faint but you can feel someone follow you as you disappear into the hall with her. 

The walk to the hall was peaceful. It was steadying. It’s the talk with the doctor that’s putting you on edge.  He’s tapping his pen on the clipboard. Your mind writhes with every tap. Sighing, you rub your eyes and try to push the sensations away. “I— I’m so sorry. I’m just. It’s my mind. I just can’t—” you breathe “—I can talk. I’m sorry.” You wave vaguely. 

“Alright tell me what happened.”

You swallow. Your trachea still feels splintered. “I—” breathe “—I was cornered. In an alley. Behind a butcher shop. I was trying to take a short cut—” he taps a pen against the board "— I was attacked." You finish, fingers tracing up the length of your throat. Attacked was too quick a word. Attacked was the kind of word you used for the quick in and out of a knife— the split second bite of a bullet.  You weren’t attacked. You were— what happened to you felt like an eternity. 

Shuffling, he looks you over. There's a prickle in the back of your neck. There's someone watching you. Your eyes flick. There's the young man. His eyes are a warm tropical blue. He waves at you. He looks uneasy. The man from before is trying not to pay attention.  Your legs swing, almost clipping the doctor's clipboard. The doctor frowns at you but you shrug. 

"You don't seem to have been injured." 

You blink. "That's not possible," you say, hands shaking,"they had me for hours." No that wasn't true. At most they had you for an hour or maybe two but that didn’t matter not at the bite of the bullet, not at the slice of flesh, not at the impact of the bat. 

"I need you to breathe," the doctor instructs, placing a hand on your back; it tenses. You go rigid. He pulls back muttering about x—rays and brain scans. 

Catching his lab coat in a death grip, you beg: "Please don't leave me." 

"Ma'am, you're perfectly safe here." 

They will find you. 

He thinks you're hysterical. You know that from the way he looks at you, like a caged animal. "We have security personnel if need be," he assures, none—too—gently prying his coat from your grip. "We'll close the curtain if that makes you feel safe and there are hospital gowns in the closet if you'd like to change." 

You nod quietly. 

You slowly peel off your shirt. The cool air stings. You suck in a breath. You think of the dream you had. That man's heart stopping. The press of lips. The bite of metal against skin. You look down at your skin— no bruises, no cuts, nothing. 

You're scared. 

You know these memories aren't fully yours. 

You hear the door slide open. Your knee jerk reaction is to be embarrassed. You're in your underwear. Pulling on a gown, you're ready to snarl at the intruder. Your heart stops. It's the man from before. 

"Did they take a blood sample from you yet?" He asks, closing the curtain behind him. 

His gaze is unyielding as he makes slow predatory strides towards you. You flatten yourself against the wall. "No— I— what?" 

"Good." 

"What—" There's a sharp pain in the side of your head. There's blood trickling down the side of your  head. Your vision is fading.

Falling forward, you grasp your blood tacky hands at his shirt.  You feel weightless. You're on his shoulder. 

"Who are you?" 

"You'll find out." 

The desert sand billows as a gust of wind blows through the dunes. You’re searching for someone. Your friend. His friend not yours. He’s somewhere. He’s being held prisoner. You’ve kept him waiting long enough. 

 You turn your head and the scene shifts. 

There’s a sky full of lights above you, glittering. You can’t tell if they’re man made or not. You reach out to them. Your hands aren’t yours. You squint. Your hands are dark and calloused— covered in sawdust. There’s a terrible shape in your stomach. You’re scared but that’s not new. There’s always a little fear when you go on the trapeze. 

You shift under the cover, limbs wrapped around a pillow.  The smell of freshly roasted coffee is heavy in the air. You burrow your face more into the pillow. Mark can wake you up—

"And you thought kidnapping her was the solution?!" 

You wince at the tone. Shuffling your limbs quitely out of the covers, you press yourself to the wall, peaking over the corner just a fraction— just enough to see two men arguing. The taller man with white hair facing the hall opening into the sleeping area. 

“It was.”

“Slade, you can’t just go kidnapping people!” the younger man shouts, his face red while his arms waved all over the place. Slade, you assumed,  stood impassively, but his arms were now crossed over his chest in a defensive manner. 

“I just did.”

The younger man runs his hand over his face and through his hair, ruffling it in frustration. “She’s going to be terrified when she wakes up.”

You are. Your eyes flick to the window. You could escape.  You're in a motel room you realize. If they’re distracted enough, you could make it out. 

“Well, Kid, it looks like you’re right.”

“Of course, I am—”

You look up. The two men are looking in your direction. Should you go back to the bed and pretend to be asleep? Is there any point? Just make a run for it. 

You sprint only to hit what feels like a brick wall. You stagger back but what feels like a metal band wraps around your waist.  The next thing you know is that you feel weightless. 

“Slade, put her down! You’re going to give her a heart attack.”

“Relax, kid, it’s not like it’s gonna kill her.” Your body is dropped unceremoniously on the bed. You bounce a couple of times before your body settles against the soft sheets. Scrambling back against the headboard, you look between the two men trying to  decide what to do. You place a pillow in front of you as a shield. The pounding of your heart is loud in your ears that you don’t think you’ll be able to hear anything that comes out of your mouth. 

“I’m broke,” you finally manage. You turn to the younger man. “My roommate is broke too.” He gives you a confused furrow in his brow. “We can’t afford ransom. You won’t get anything, so please just… just let me go. I won’t tell the police. I promise.” Folding your legs behind the pillow, you press yourself into the headboard further.  The young man sighs and slumps. “We don’t want money.” You stiffen, keenly aware that save for the flimsy protection of the hospital gown, you’re only in your underwear. He seems to realize what you’d concluded. 

 Slade snorts. “Way to go, kid.”

“Yeah, thanks for the help, asshole.”

“I have done nothing wrong.”

“Ah, yes. Aside from kidnaping her you mean,” he snarls. You swallow loudly, trying to keep the bile down. The younger man turns to you, the impressive glare he was sporting slides way too easily into concern. His body rolls into a different shape; it’s the kind of posture you’ve used when comforting your younger sibling.  He lowers himself on the bed slowly. He reaches out a hand. Carefully, he says “We won’t hurt you.”

And you want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him. 

“Real convincing, Grayson.” Slade sneers as he watches your recoil from Grayson’s outstretched hand. Grayson levels another glare at Slade who simply huffs and shrugs. 

“I haven’t done anything to you. Please let me go.” You croak. 

Grayson looks at you helplessly. “(Y/n)... We can’t...”

“You died last night.” Slade says. Nothing in his tone suggests a question. It’s just a statement. No room for doubt. 

You blink, nose scrunching. “I— I was mugged.” You cover your face with your hands. You’re pretty positive that you’d remember being murdered and you say as much. You got cornered by three to four gang members and they mugged you. That was it. 

Your stomach rebels at the thought. 

Grayson gives you that pitying look again. He pries your hands from your face, blue eyes bearing down at you with so much concern. His touch is so gentle that you almost cry. “Sweetheart, think about it.”

You shake your head trying to pull your hand away from him. He doesn’t let you. Your head is throbbing. You’re scared and confused and you’re starting to feel anger prickle under your skin.  “I think I would know if I died, asshole,” you snarl and the shift in tone catches them both off guard. 

Slade sighs. There’s a flash of metal and a gunshot. The pain radiates from the middle of your stomach; it’s sharp. Some small, shrill sound escapes you.  You’re gasping as you look at him again. He’s looking at a watch. It looks expensive. It’s funny how even  during death your mind finds a way to procrastinate. 

“It’s taking a little while. Of all the inconveniences, why is it so slow the first few times?”Slade mutters in a voice that would sound right at home in a self checkout line. His shoe is tapping against the rug. You wonder if that’s expensive too. 

“Why would you shoot her?” Grayson demands, shooting up from his spot on the bed. The loss of weight jostles the bed. You wince. 

You look down. Something strange is happening. Your flesh like cloth is reknitting, leaving the seamless expanse of your stomach. 

You look back up, eyes blown wide and frantic. You pat your stomach, hand coming away with a thin film of blood but the strange tingling you get when you’re expecting to feel something but you don’t. The bullet hole wasn’t there. It just wasn’t. 

A sprawl of frantic horror lives down the line of your sternum. It was the kind of amorphous energy you get when something doesn’t make sense, when something just shouldn’t have happened— a sort of odd dislocation in the universe. 

Grayson holds his hands up in a placating manner as he sits back down on the bed. He’s careful not to jostle you but you barely notice.  You think his hands look familiar.  Your— his calloused hands reach out to you. “You need to trust us.”

“You. Just. Shot. Me.”

“Correction, he shot you.”

Slade rolls his eye. “Ah yes, kid, very helpful.” 

“It’s an important distinction.”

“Fine!” You point to Slade. “You shot me.” You point to Grayson. “You. Let. Him.”

“Sweetheart, I appreciate that you think I have any control over that brute,” Grayson says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, “but I have about as much control over that brute as I do over a storm. ”

Unamused, you throw a pillow at Grayson hard enough that he almost topples over the edge. You grab another pillow and Grayson raises the pillow you threw at him in defense. You can see the smile in his eyes; it makes the acid behind your teeth boil. All embarrassment and horror bleed out to give way to anger as you throw the pillow at him with the same ferocity as before. Slade snatches the pillow midair saving Grayson from having to deflect it. Grayson gives him a smile that looks like an insincere apology. Slade, like you, seems unconvinced and pushes your discarded pillow into Grayson’s fine—boned face. It does nothing to wipe the grin off his face but you feel a little better knowing you’re not the only one who has to endure him. 

You fight the urge to laugh but  not too hard. The chords of your muscles come loose and for the first time in what feels like an age, you feel tired. “I’m dead. I died. Then you shot me… And then you shot me. WHAT THE HELL?” You say, the accusation directionless. You were supposed to die on a smoking heap of trash, gutted and pathetic. Hands falling limply to your sides, you let your mind go through that a dozen times because, well, how does one process their own death and undeath? You shouldn't still be here. 

"What’s happening to me?" 

"She's acting far more reasonable than you did." Slade teases. 

Grayson scowls at him, slapping him with the pillow. Slade just kind of grunts clearly less hurt than annoyed. Considering the solid wall of muscle the man is sporting, you wouldn’t be surprised if it would take nothing short of a brick to hurt him. "YOU SHOT ME IN THE HEAD THEN SHOT ME THROUGH THE STOMACH." 

“I only shot you in the stomach because the bullet through your head didn’t get through your thick skull.”

You’re one missed heartbeat away from laughing. Your brows shoot up, limp limbs coming back to life as you curl in on yourself again. What have you gotten yourself into?

"Oh my god, I mean— Shit!" Slade snorts as Grayson flails. Grayson puts his hand in his face, groaning. “Sorry about that… Slade is terrible at explanations.”

Slade makes a noise in the back of his throat. It sounds like a laugh and twitch of his lip would suggest so but you're still second guessing yourself. "You're one to talk Mr. We Won't Hurt You." The air fills with Slade's amusement as Grayson’s cheeks flush. It's funny how easily pretty shifts to adorable. 

You sigh raking your hand through your hair. It's been an exceptionally long day. "What’s happening to me?" You whine mostly to yourself. "I'm not a meta. I think I would know if I was something like that… Right?" You look up at Grayson who just gives you a complicated expression. "You know what's going on don't you?" You say, crawling closer to Grayson. He shifts a bit, keeping his eyes straight. Grayson blinks and runs his hand through his hair, collecting his scattered thoughts. He leans back, putting a bit of space between you as he speaks. "We got off on the wrong foot," he says extending a hand to you, "the name's Dick—”

“Are you sure?” and Slade laughs at your question. Grayson— Dick (is that really his name?) looks tired like he’s heard this question a million times. “Yes, I’m sure about my name.” You feel a little bad but not enough to actually say anything that even comes close to an apology. “Anyway,” Dick (?) continues,”the grumpy old man over there is Slade. We’re sort of in the same boat as you.”

The last line makes you pause. You think back to your dreams, the quick flashes of sensations. Oh. That was— Oh. Your stomach feels like lead. You watched them— Oh. 

“I’m sorry.” you say, at a loss of what else to say. Death was an intimate thing. You guessed that only the dead or the previously dead would know that. You fold your hands on your lap as you sit back on your legs, a primm gesture that made you feel solid and a bit more like yourself than you had in hours. 

Dick’s warm blue eyes are wide. He goes still for a moment taking in what you’d just said. His head shakes and he smiles at you, an expression that is weightless. It made you think of the trapeze. “It’s ok,” he assures you, warm hand on yours, “it’s not your fault… Anyway!” You use the very sarcastic brows you’ve been given to convey your concern about the neck snapping shift in tone. Dick looks at you sheepish, hand rubbing the back of his neck before deciding to soldier on.  “We don’t know why but some individuals are brought back to life and are made immortal. We’ve— I’ve got a few working theories but—”

“Immortal.” You repeat, trying to make the concept make sense. 

“We, now including you, don’t die, kid.” Slade deadpans. 

“Thanks. I’ve read a dictionary.” You say, eyes flicking to your very much intact stomach. Dick laughs, the sound high and breezy. He tries to stifle it but even the hand cupped over his mouth couldn’t contain the sound. Slade’s long leg stretches to give Dick a not so light kick. This does nothing but increase the volume of his laughter.  You look back up at them. “So, what does my latest existential crisis have to do with either of you?”

“Well for one,” Slade says, standing up, “we can’t have you running around with a millenia old secret without even attempting to teach you how to disappear first.” This is what gets your stomach to rebel. Bile is climbing up your throat. Dick, quick as a whip, holds a trash can out for you. You put your hand in front of you. You hold out your hand to stop him, not even sure if you had anything in your stomach aside from acid. 

You had just started getting your life back together and then this. Shaking your head, you try to break the thought down into more manageable pieces before swallowing it. “Ok. ok. That makes sense. I guess.”

Dick pulls back still looking concerned. “You are taking this alarmingly well.”

You stare at him. Your stomach rolls again. "Do I have a choice?" You ask from behind your hand. 

Slade huffs, "she's right, kid."

"Is he just gonna keep calling us kid or..." 

"Considering he's got 700 years on the both of us?" Dick laughs like he didn't just hit you with a ton of bricks.

"Ah, so he's a museum piece. Got it." You deadpan and you're rewarded with another roll of laughter from Dick. Slade grunts but doesn't protest much more than that. You turn your focus to Dick. "So how old are you?"

"A lady never tells," Dick says, crows feet wrinkling at the corners of his eyes. You blow air between your lips. "Lemme guess, you're like 2000 years old."

Dick makes a noise; it sounds offended. You don't much care, finally feeling a smile creeping on to your face. It doesn't hurt when you do not like everything else right now. That fact would be almost uncomfortable if you weren't so weary.

Folding your knees against your chest, you squish your face against your arms. "No seriously, old man. How old are you?"

"You're persistent." Dick hums.

"I want to know if I can cite you for my thesis on ancient greek culture."

Dick shakes his head. "You're better off citing him."

"Sadly, he's right Grayson is just a mere 27 years old."

You blink. He's— He's around your age. You breathe. "Ok so I'm not alone. Great."

"You're not," Slade says, "he was much harder to deal with."

"Do I have to keep mentioning that you shot me twice?" Dick asks crossing his arm sover his chest.

"Are you ever going to stop bringing it up?"

"When it stops working."

"It ever started."

From their banter, they're familiar with each other. The tiredness from before ebbs back in. You feel alone. Out of habit, you bury your head against your knees.  There is something comforting about the stillness.

A warm hand settles on your shoulder. You jolt up, knocking the back of your skull against the headboard. It makes a loud thunk against the wall. Dick winces, pulling his hand away from you. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine." You lied  still seeing stars.

 They look unconvinced. You don't quite care. "You look like you need a good meal."

"Or a hot shower," Slade suggests. 

You think it over, hand on your stomach brain still looking for the bullet wound. Eyes flicking between both, you lick your lips before saying: "I'll take you up on that shower." Your eyes drift back down to your arms, concentrating on the small details, the imperfections you've gathered through the years. The thought that you won't be able to add more doesn't really register like it should.

Dick nods getting up to grab something.  "I might need a couple of minutes in there," you say absently. 

"Take all the time you need." Dick says handing you a towel and a fresh shirt. You accept them with a small nod, carefully peeling yourself away from the bed.  Your eyes go into a tunnel vision, only focused on the door to the shower. 

You stop, a hand gripping your wrist. The pressure is solid and reassuring. You turn back to see Dick, biting his cheek."It'll get better I promise."

You give Dick a crooked smile. "I'll probably feel a lot better when I'm not covered in blood."

"That always helps," Slade says flatly. 

"You'd know."

"You really wanna scare her more right now?"

"It's just way too easy with you around."

"Please save the other world shattering revelations after my shower," You whine pulling the towel to your chest. 

"Can't promise that." Slade says with a rumble that just radiates bastard. 

You blow out a breath, raising a middle finger  over your shoulder. It was a rude gesture you'd never normally even consider but it felt appropriate at this moment.

"Hope you don't mind pizza." Dick says already dialing the number.

You stop leaning against the door, face squished against the frame. "What kind?"

"Hnnnnn... I figure you would like ham and mushrooms." 

With amusement, you note how Slade blanches quietly behind Dick. You quietly question both of their maturities. "how'd you figure oh wise ancient one?"

"Please don't ask him that."

"Why not? I'm curious to see how his mind works."

"You're going to regret that."

You cock your brow as Dick draws himself up. He reminds you of a pitcher winding up. "Because I'm a fun—guy, get it?"

Slade groans, hand on his face and for once he looks like an old man not like a terrifying wall of intimidation. 

"You're right. I do regret it," you say, stifling a laugh,"anyway, if you'll excuse me, the shower is calling my name. You two love birds have fun."

Slade sits beside Dick, an arm wrapping around his waist. "You heard the lady. She told us to have fun," Slade rumbles into Dick's ear only loud enough for you to hear. You flush. Realization hitting you like a truck. The color of Dick's face mimicking yours as he shoves Slade's face away. That warm shower will now be a cold one, you think as you awkwardly shuffle into the bathroom.

Instead of a shower, you elected for a nice soak. You're too weary and rung out and you hadn't seen a decent bath tub in a few years so you took the chance. It's not like an infection from the tub could kill you, right? 

You step out of the bathroom feeling refreshed if not a bit cold from your shirt. Dick's shirt was big but it stopped shy of your thighs. You couldn't really complain. You were just happy to get out of the blood soaked clothes.

You pad your way into the room and eyes are instantly on you. Slade quite blatantly stares at the curve of your ass as it peaks out from under your shirt. You think of scolding him but decide to leave that up to Dick who… is also staring at you… in the same area. He has the decency to look embarrassed when you catch him. Clearing his throat, Dick answers the knock on the door which just adds another set of eyes on you.

A poor pimple faced kid stands frozen at the door, slack jawed. His eyes dart around the room, frantically looking for a camera or something. You sigh. You too could see how this could be a lazy set up to a porn. You’re slightly flattered at the idea that you could be astronomically hot enough to be in a porn with either of these two but you’re more worried about the kid having to deal with a boner while he delivers pizzas. Dick, incredibly oblivious to the problem, seems to take his time looking for his wallet. 

Slade, not oblivious to the problem, makes his way to the poor kid, looking as imposing as possible as he hands the kid a fifty. Whatever arousal the kid felt at the moment floods out of him along with any color in his face. 

You snort plopping on to the bed and crossing your leg over the other and you watch as the men’s eyes widen as they trace the expanse of skin. This is the closest you will ever be to a bond girl.

Slade slams the door in the kids face, not even bothering with the change. Dick rolls his eyes with a crooked smile playing on his lips. “She hasn’t been with us for a day and you’re already acting possessive,” Dick laughs, patting Slade’s chest as he walks past. 

Dick plops on the bed next to you. You press your cheek into his shoulder as he opens the box. The smell of greasy cheese and canned vegetables floods your nostrils in a concert of sweet, unhealthy goodness. Your stomach rumbles and your hand darts down to get a piece. Your hand jerks back as your skin tingles from the heat. 

“Sorry, love, you can still feel pain.” Dick says, puckering his face as he blows the rising steam away. As if to be contrary, Slade grabs the largest slice and immediately takes a bite. You turn to Dick, raising a brow to ask. “Him? He’s just a weirdo.” Dick answers, grabbing his own slice.  You roll your eyes grabbing your own slice. 

Dick’s trying hard not to stare at your legs but ends up staring at your lips instead.  “Do you have any spare pants?” You ask around a mouthful of pizza. 

“I’ll get it,” Slade says before Dick can even stumble out a response, “clearly wonder boy hadn’t thought this through.” 

You hum around another mouthful in agreement and Dick just looks at you betrayed. You uncross and recross your legs to prove your point. 

Shifting away from Dick and swallowing the last bit of your pizza, you take the pants Slade offers you and you’re not at all surprised that it doesn’t fit right. “Any chance I can go back to my apartment? Even just for clothes?”   

“Sadly no.”

“Should I ask?”

“Do you really feel like talking to cops right now, kid?”

“Yanno, you’re gonna have to distinguish between us at some point,” Dick huffs, opening a can of soda,”and she’s right we do need to get her new clothes.” He hands you a can. Not feeling parched, you just roll it in your palm feeling the need to indulge in the feeling on cool metal. You catch yourself before you tuck your legs against your chest again. 

“I don’t see why you’re so hell bent on this, kid 1. You clearly like seeing her in your clothes.” Slade says, flatly the way you’d read out the summary of a particularly boring movie summary, probably based on a Nicholas Sparks novel. 

“You think adding a number is enough effort to distinguish us?” Dick sneers, trying to distract from the flush of his cheeks. 

“Would you prefer I call you ‘Sport’?”

“Dick, for both of our sake’s please accept being called Sport.”

“No!”

“How about ‘Chum’?”

Dick’s nose wrinkles at the name. You’re not sure if it’s the name itself, the way it rolls off of Slade’s tongue, or something to do with your dream.  You don’t know Dick well enough to discern. 

“Please don’t.” Dick tries politely and there’s a tinge of sadness in his tone. Slade seems to back off, easing into his chair. 

You open your mouth wanting to pry but instead of asking the question on the tip of your tongue, you settle for asking for another slice. The air is full of questions but you’re not really sure which one to pluck out. Then again, you’ve got time. And really? Right now, that’s all you have.

Before you can dwell too much on that thought, Slade turns the TV on to drown out whatever Dick was saying. You’d tuned him out a little bit ago. It wasn’t really a matter of choice; it was more a matter of your brain going on power saving mode. 

You blink sleepily, the voice of the anchor falling into a low hum in your mind. You’re pretty sure your name blips in between the static of words. There’s a dull recognition in the words ‘kidnapping’ and ‘suspects’ but it all seems so distant at the moment. No reaction registers upon realizing that they were probably talking about your kidnapping and really could anyone blame you when some cosmic fuckery just occurred and now your life has been turned on its head? ____________________________________________________________ Thanks for reading!

[tundrainafrica]

Title: First Day

Summary:  

“You usually don’t take time off,” Levi commented.

“I know."

“So why are you taking time off?”

“It’s our kid’s first day at school,” Hange responded in the most anticlimactic of manners. Yet, the knowing grin in her face didn’t fade.

Hange and Levi deal with their child's first day of school in different ways. Written for Levihan Week 2021, Day 1: School.

Link: AO3

Notes: 

Levihan Week Day 1 Prompt: School, organized by @levihanweek.

This is kinda late because the past few weeks have been hectic but I've been trying to get back into writing regularly again since the long break I took after completing Lovebug. 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Most mornings, Hange was out the door at six in the morning. Sometimes ten minutes after, sometimes five minutes after but never anything more than that. It was always a loud grand exit accompanied with footsteps, a clipped ‘see you later’ and a loud slam of the door.

So routine that Levi would never look back. That day was a little different. Ten minutes past six and it was utterly silent. The absence of such a loud and chaotic goodbye seemed to leave a more deafening echo.

Deafening silence, or the absence of what had been usually there, wasn’t the type of deafening that rang in his ears. It was the type of absence that seemed to tickle at the back of his ears, awakening a fighting instinct that had been long asleep. “You’re still here?” Levi asked.

She was quick to reply. “I asked for a half day at work today.” Quick and very casual.

“Oh really?” Levi responded.

Hange had always told him the day before if she were taking a leave. That day, such a small detail sent some alarm bells ringing inside him. He looked back to see Hange deftly flipping through a newspaper with just one hand, taking bites of bread with the other. “Yep.” She didn’t seem at all in any hurry to look up at him.

Levi narrowed his eyes at her, wondering if that was enough to make her feel any obligation to meet his eyes. It wasn’t. The newspaper must have been a very interesting subject. “You usually don’t take time off,” Levi commented.

“I know,” Hange said, her tone unchanging.

“So why are you taking time off?” Levi felt slightly ticked at having to articulate the question. It just wasn’t the natural flow of their conversations.

Hange chose that moment to look up, a wide grin on her face, a knowing grin. She put the newspaper down, took another bite of bread and her chews were larger, seemingly more exaggerated. She had a special talent. If she actually tried, she could hide what she was thinking even from someone who had known her more than half their life. “It’s our kid’s first day at school,” Hange answered in the most anticlimactic of manners. Yet, the knowing grin in her face didn’t fade.

Levi raised one eyebrow at her. He set aside the cutlery he had been organizing and settled in front of her. He took a slice of bread from the plate in front of him, bit into it and flashed his partner an expectant look.

It wasn’t every day Hange was there at half past six on a weekday and she looked like she was completely aware of it. “How do you feel about Luke’s first day?” she asked.

“All kids go to school. This isn’t really a big change,” Levi said in between bites of bread.

“Really? Not a big change?”

Levi paused for a second. It wasn’t a big change. That is, if he didn’t count the past few days spent looking through rows of school bags at the shop, if he didn’t count the daunting process of organizing stationary while just relishing the unnatural feeling of expensive school supplies to the touch. The underground city didn’t really have a lot of schools and consequently, Levi never had to worry about such a luxury growing up. “Luke will be in school so more peace and quiet.”

The conversation was surprisingly slow. The air between them seemed louder and seemed to be circulating a little faster than usual. It was a loud silence only broken when Luke came barging into the kitchen, big bag precariously propped on his back.

Levi was suddenly aware that he was taking his sweet time speaking and Hange was letting him.

The young boy gave him more than enough of an excuse to avoid that awkward silent interrogation. “Luke, what the hell is in your bag?”

“First day!” Luke said, in some attempt at protest maybe.

No, it was a protest definitely as Levi had made it his mini mission for the day to untangle the straps from under the young boys arms.

There was no way in hell he was letting his child go to school with such a disorganized death trap. The bag was comically round, stuffed to the point that pencils and markers were sticking out in weird places.

A chaotic mess. A death trap waiting to bite or more specifically, crush him.

There was still some attempt by the young boy to inject some organization into it. The stationary was organized in clusters. The crayons bunched on one side of the bag and pencils on the other. There were folded papers stuffed in the middle of the paper, and some snacks were stuffed towards the bottom of the bag.

“Luke, I told you, you can bundle your crayons like this.” He had gotten a rubber band and twisted it around the crayons and pencils, once then twice.

Levi was bringing out the items in bunches, lining them out on the table then stuffing them into the bag again, that time with a little more regard for aesthetic and functionality. Levi was creating shapes, very convenient shapes and he had made a puzzle out of the whole process of organizing a three year old’s school bag.

When he was done, all the supplies only occupied half the bag. He gestured at the organized bag in the same way he did every other time Luke would watch him clean. And the latter nodded understandingly, the same way he did every other time before. Enough for Levi to know, the boy had at least taken note of half the cleaning process.

That exchange between father and son was very much routine. Since the child was old enough to talk, Levi had taken great pains to teach the young boy organization. Sometimes though, there were hiccups in the whole process of teaching. And during those hiccups, Levi was reminded, Luke was Hange’s child too.

Suddenly curious about her reaction, Levi turned to his Hange. The latter was still sipping coffee as she watched. An amused look was etched on her face. “If you ask me, I think he did a pretty good job fixing his bag.”

***

Levi didn’t know he had been waiting for a climax until he found himself very disappointed at the denouement.

It just seemed too easy and Hange just seemed too happy and too laidback. By the school gates, they separated with hugs, some pieces of advice dumbed down for a three year old. Hange was usually the more talkative one but Levi found he was the one asking more questions, saying more than necessary.

“He’ll be fine, you know,” Hange said, her voice firm, her look almost admonishing.

Levi froze. He had only become more hyper aware of his uncharacteristic chattiness when Hange pointed it out herself.

I packed you a sandwich… I’ll pick you up at two… If you wanna go home early, just tell the teacher okay?

Were those words unnecessary for a kid? But Luke had to know right? Or at least his teacher? “Maybe we should talk to the teacher,” Levi suggested. "Just so they know us and they won't hesitate to contact us if—"

Hange shook her head. “He’ll be fine,” she said. “Look, he’s ready to go in already.”

Luke wasn’t crying. He wasn’t begging them to leave him alone. In fact, he had only turned back at them, waved one hand and shouted ‘bye!’ when he was already a good few feet away.

“Okay, I guess he’s fine then,” Levi said. If Luke and Hange both think it’s fine… He spun around, his back towards the school and he let out a stifled breath, some release for that disappointment and tension that had been raring to ooze out since that morning.

“I said, he’ll be fine,” Hange repeated. It was starting to get annoying.

“I knew that,” Levi retorted.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

Levi shot her a venomous glare. “Okay, if you knew he’d be fine, then why bother taking a half day off from work to see him off?”

“Cause I was guessing… someone else wouldn’t be so fine,” Hange responded.

They had turned the corner from the school gates, to a narrow road a little emptier. Again, there was that knowing grin on her face and her face was only inches away from him. Consoling? Mocking?

No, it was definitely mocking. “Oh, who are you talking about?”

Hange didn’t respond. She looked away, just making it more apparent that she had been staring right at him.

“Who are you talking about Hange?” Levi pressed. He wasn’t stupid. The answer was right in front of him. But was it an answer he wanted to accept?

“I called a half day off from work. But I’m planning on going to the office today and working for an hour or so. Why don’t you come along? You should say hi to Armin and Mikasa, it’s been a while since you talked to them,” Hange said.

“I have to pick up Luke—”

“At two right?” Hange asked. “We won’t be in the office that long.”

“I need to prepa--”

“Prepare what?” Hange challenged. Her voice was firmer. She was walking ahead with longer strides, towards the path to her office, only a convenient few minutes away from the school. “You’re gonna be alone in the house you know.”

Alone in the house. Being alone wasn’t too big of a deal. Levi had lived alone a few times when he was in between roommates at the barracks. As captain, he conveniently got his own room. That felt like a lifetime away though.

The past few years were easier to look back at. When Hange was at work, it was usually just him and Luke at home. Then and there, just the thought of being home alone had sent some strange feeling through him.

A very strange sadness. A very strange loneliness.

A sudden need to turn to Hange and maybe confide for a little longer. Besides, it isn’t everyday Hange is giving you this much attention. Levi reminded himself.

“He’ll be fine,” Hange said again. “Going to school’s just part of growing up.”

“It is.” Levi admitted. “I think I just need to be a little sad about it.” He deliberately softened his voice then to something just loud enough for Hange to hear.

Annoyingly, her smile got wider, her eyes were larger, as if she was looking at a specimen and he was her specimen. “I knew taking a half day off would be a good idea.”

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

love your writing please more mason mount ones can you do one where he takes care of you because you're drunk

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

DRUNK

( WARNINGS: alcohol, swearing, fluff )

word count: 1.3k

“Watch your head—”

“Ow!” You groaned, your hand immediately reaching out to touch the sore spot on your head from where it collided with the roof of your car in a failed attempt to get out of the vehicle.

Mason blew out a breath, trying to hold in a laugh as he reached out one hand for yours, trying to get you slightly more stable on your feet. You’d taken your heels off before you got in the car and you gripped them in the hand that wasn’t holding onto Mason for dear life.

Normally you’d never let yourself go too much at parties, but tonight it seemed your glass was never really empty, and unfortunately it didn’t take too long for you to get uncharacteristically talkative. As luck would have it, Mason made the heroic decision (looking back on it now) to be your plus one, which was why you had a free taxi drive home.

What else is a boyfriend for if not a personal chaperone?

“Yeah, the car roof got in the way a little bit there. You okay?” Mason asked, slamming your door with his free hand, before immediately turning his attention back to you, fingers lightly brushing over the red mark in the middle of your forehead.

“I’m fine.” You reassured, but the fact that your eyes seemed completely incapable of focusing on any one thing for more than a second seemed to have him unconvinced and instead rather concerned.

He held up his hand in front of your face, snapping his fingers to get your attention.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, still trying to encourage you to make your way towards the front door without eliciting a spell of dizziness.

“What? I have ten.” You answered, furrowing your eyes in his direction.

You knew you must have said something wrong because a line appeared in between his brows, and despite the vague haziness of your mind, you knew that only happened when he was worrying over something.

“Don’t do that,” You said, reaching your hand out to smooth the crease out of his skin, momentarily forgetting about the shoes in your hands, wincing when they collided with his chest. “Sorry.” You apologised, patting him on the chest as if it would somehow magically heal him.

The crease disappeared and instead he took to glueing his mouth shut, but the telltale curl of his lip suggested that he was — once again — trying not to laugh at you.

“God, you’re so pissed.” He muttered, rooting around in his pocket for his keys, taking special care in ensuring his arm was still tightly secured around your waist in case you decided to take a leap of faith off the step and take him by surprise.

“I’m not pissed, there’s just two of you.” You mumbled, almost tripping over your own feet as your head spun, sending a wave of nausea rolling uncomfortably through your body.

Mason shook his head, swinging open the door and taking your shoes from you, lobbing them out of the way of the hallway.

“You look paler than usual.” He observed, helping you through the doorway and shutting the door behind himself, making a mental note to lock it once you’d gotten yourself settled somewhere it would be easy to clean up any vomit if that was to happen.

“Nice to see your nose works well.”

He paused, turning to you with an incredulous look painted on his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe you’d said those words aloud.

“What the fuck? Tell me you’re joking.” He said, chuckling awkwardly, trying to mask the now growing anxiety.

“Of course I’m joking. I might be drunk as a skunk, but I’d never get my numbers mixed up.”

He physically froze, his eyes wide.

“I’m joking.” You whispered, beginning to feel the fair pinpricks of an oncoming headache.

“How have you not passed out yet?”

“Because I didn’t drink enough to pass out. Why are we still standing in the hallway?”

You closed your eyes, slumping to the left and resting your forehead head against Mason’s shoulder, letting out a long breath.

“You okay?” He asked, noticing you still had a paler complexity than normal.

You said nothing in response and hummed, letting out a pained groan when a sharp throb shot through your skull. Some of the agony was relieved however, when Mason pressed a cold hand to your forehead, to which you found yourself leaning into the touch, the coldness of it soothing a somewhat nasty headache.

“Can you walk?”

“Not sure.”

The hand was removed from your head, and the next thing you knew, an arm had been scooped under the back of your knees, and Mason was walking as lightly as possible so as to not influence a bout of vertigo, towards the bathroom. He set you down on the cold tiles, quickly rinsing a flannel under cold water and wringing it out a little bit before pressing it to your forehead.

You heard him leave and it took a couple of minutes for him to return, holding the same bag you’d used when he was in your position.

He placed it on the floor at your feet, pulling out a cushion and a blanket, propping the cushion between the wall and your back and folding the blanket up and placing it next to you on the floor. He then proceeded to hand you a tub.

“A bagel and a bottle of water…this looks familiar.” You said, your voice now getting a little bit scratchy as the effects of the alcohol lessened somewhat and the partial hangover began.

“I can’t say I remember.” He smiled, reaching a hand out to wipe mascara tracks from your cheeks; the water from the flannel having trailed down your face.

“You tried to convince me you were a firefighter and that your name was Sam. You made siren noises for half the night—”

“It wasn’t half the night—”

“It felt like it.”

He breathed a laugh, moving to sit next to you against the wall of the bathroom, his shoulder pressing against yours in the small space the room had to offer.

“What are the chances you won’t remember this tomorrow?” Mason asked, lifting his arm up and around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him.

You shrugged, closing your eyes as if the small action would immunise you to the nauseating feeling in your stomach.

“Why?” You asked, taking a bite of the bagel.

“Just wondering.”

“Thanks for looking after me.” You mumbled, looking up at him with a smile. You were sure it looked more like a wince than a smile because Mason had to pretend to mask a laugh with a cough.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Just take it—”

“Do I have to?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” You sighed, the haziness of the alcohol slowly starting to fade away with every sip of water and every bit of bagel.

Mason seemed to notice your growing weariness and he nudged you gently.

“Think you can make it to the bedroom without spilling your guts?”

You nodded, the action not bringing as much lightheadedness as before.

He heaved himself off the floor, putting his hands out for you to grab onto, and he pulled you up, reaching down to grab the bottle of water off the floor and deciding he’d deal with the mess in the morning when you were feeling better.

“Why does alcohol always have really shitty side effects?” You groaned, the pounding in your head increasing when you stood up, the head rush not helping with the headache.

“I don’t know but you’re definitely going to regret ever drinking in the morning.”

“I’m regretting it now.” You groaned, fingers gripping his shirt sleeve as you made your way up the stairs.

[besanii]

For SM-maybe after ripping our hearts out, we get a cute shirt fluffy one? I’m thinking after their wedding, there’s a scene like the end of Pride and Prejudice 2005? “What terms of endearment am I allowed, then?” LWJ to WWX. Just a thought. Delighted with everything you write.

Shattered Mirrors 72

[ set after #62 ]

Night has fallen by the time Lan Wangji is able to remove himself from the celebrations and return to his rooms, leaving the remaining guests in his cousin’s capable hands. Lan Guoyan even manages to dissuade some of the rowdier attendees from trying to storm the bedchamber—protectiveness flares in his chest at the thought of them in such a private space, not to mention seeing Wei Wuxian in his wedding finery—something for which Lan Wangji is immensely grateful. He resolves to thank him properly later, once everything has settled, but for now he hastens his stride through the winding pathways to his bedchamber.

He is relieved to find the candles within still lit when he arrives, half-fearing that the uncharacteristic lateness of his arrival would mean Wei Wuxian had already retired to bed.

It is your wedding night, he reminds himself, heat rising to his ears. Of course he would wait.

From inside, he hears the sound of laughter and recognises Wei Wuxian; the other voice he presumes to be Mo Xuanyu, who scarcely leaves Wei Wuxian’s side except to run errands. The third voice, however, is somewhat unexpected. He waves down the servants at the door before they can announce his arrival, and crosses the threshold when they open the doors, surprising the occupants inside.

“Wangye!”

Lan Jingyi scrambles to his feet, pulling Mo Xuanyu along with him, both of them seated on the floor at Wei Wuxian’s feet. Wei Wuxian himself is sitting at the edge of the bed in his wedding finery, red veil still obscuring his features from view, his hands folded neatly on his lap as the two boys bow low.

“Jingyi, Mo Xuanyu.” They flinch and keep their heads bowed. “The wedding chamber is off-limits at this hour.”

“Wangye,” they chorus, wearing matching expressions of guilt. “Forgive our intrusion. We will leave at once.”

“Wangye, don’t tease,” Wei Wuxian chides, lifting a corner of the veil to peek out at them with a smile. “They were keeping me company while you were out entertaining your guests.”

“Our guests,” Lan Wangji corrects him. He shoots the boys another look. “You are all dismissed. Take the rest of the night off.”

“Yes, Wangye.” Lan Jingyi grabs Mo Xuanyu by the arm and all but drags him to the door. He smiles at them, all cheek and humour, as they pull them closed. “Best wishes to Wangye and Wangfei for a happy, prosperous union.”

Embarrassment burns at Lan Wangji’s neck and ears and he is almost tempted to march out after them to dole out punishment for their impertinence. It seems he has been too indulgent with Lan Jingyi lately for him to speak so out of place. He will need to correct that first thing tomorrow—

“Your concubine greets Hanguang-wangye.”

He turns at the sound of rustling to find Wei Wuxian has slipped from the bed, sinking to his knees with his head bowed, the perfect picture of a docile, obedient wife greeting her new husband. The thought stirs something deep in his chest, something heated and possessive; he takes a step forward, careful and measured, as if treading too quickly would scare Wei Wuxian away. He reaches for him, sliding his hands under his elbows to help him to his feet, draws him close until the veil brushes against his chin and he can feel the Wei Wuxian tremble in his arms.

“Wei Ying,” he murmurs. A soft, shaky sigh stirs the edges of the veil. “You do not need to bow to me.”

Hands turn over to grasp his forearms in return, the wide sleeves of the wedding robes falling back to reveal pale, slender wrists. The golden bangles, from the Empress herself as a wedding gift, almost dwarf them in their size.

“Wangye is too kind,” Wei Wuxian murmurs. “Your concubine is only observing the proper customs expected of a spouse of the Imperial Family.”

Lan Wangji sighs. “Wei Ying, do not tease.”

The trembling turns into shaking as Wei Wuxian breaks out into soft laughter. It breaks the tension that has settled over the room since Lan Wangji entered; the breath rushes from his lungs and he, too, chuckles. He runs his hands up along Wei Wuxian’s upper arms, admiring the silky smoothness of the fabric, the way it drapes just so—even through the many layers of fabric, he can feel the curve of his shoulders, the jut of his collarbone, the rush of his pulse; Wei Wuxian’s breath hitches when his fingers brush against the sensitive skin of his neck and he draws back a fraction, uncertain.

“Is something wrong?” A shake of the head. “Then…will you allow me to lift your veil?”

“Yes.”

His breath had caught in his throat when he’d first laid eyes on Wei Wuxian this morning at Jing Manor; even with the long silk veil completely covering his head and face from view, there is no masking the slope of his shoulders, the grace of his movements, the way the layers and layers of red silk fall and drape over his frame. His skin is paler now than it had been in his youth, his body less toned and muscular, less sharp angles and more gentle curves, but the shape of his mouth, the way his grey eyes dance with starlight and mischief as the veil slips from his shoulders with a sigh—all of that is uniquely Wei Ying.

In the intervening years since they had last seen each other, he had often pictured in his dreams how Wei Wuxian would look if they had been able to marry. He would wear his hair in the intricate style of an Imperial spouse, with braids and gold pins holding it all together; his robes would be a darker red, almost crimson, the hems embroidered with the flowing clouds of the Gusu Lan Imperial Family in golden thread.

He would be so beautiful, Lan Wangji would think upon waking, when the yearning would tear at his chest until he choked with it.

He is breathtaking.

“Wangye? Hanguang-wangye? Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian lowers his eyes, obedient and demure, but his voice anything but as he murmurs: “Fujun?”

A pleased rumble sounds from his throat before Lan Wangji can stop it; Wei Wuxian laughs in delight as Lan Wangji flushes, mortified. Cool hands reach up to cup his face, tracing the line of his jaw and coming to rest against the burning skin on the back of his neck.

“Fujun,” Wei Wuxian repeats, rolling the new title on his tongue with relish. “Allow your concubine to serve you tonight.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s voice is pained. “You do not need to address yourself thus.”

“Oh?” The hands at his neck trail down to his chest. “Then how shall we address each other, Fujun? If I address my husband by name in public, they will think our manners lacking.”

Lan Wangji takes both hands in his and gives them a gentle squeeze.

“Wangye, in public,” he allows. He runs his thumbs along the back of his hands as he thinks. “My name, at home.”

“And Fujun?” Wei Wuxian asks, teasing. Lan Wangji growls.

“Only in private,” he says roughly; one hand shifts so it covers both of Wei Wuxian’s while the other wraps around his waist to draw him close. Wei Wuxian laughs again, breathless and giddy.

“Then you must do the same for me,” he counters, his eyes dark and face flushed. His tongue comes out to wet his lips, and Lan Wangji suddenly cannot look away. “Although I cannot promise to always address you correctly in private.”

“You may address me however you wish, in private,” Lan Wangji tells him, lowering his head to brush their noses together. A thrill runs through him when Wei Wuxian does not pull away.

“Oh?” The word dances over his lips. “So you would not mind if I call you Lan-er-gege, as before?” Lan Wangji shakes his head with a smile. “How about…Er-lang?”

Lan Wangji closes his eyes, his grip tightening around Wei Wuxian’s waist as he tries to calm his pounding heart. When he opens them again, Wei Wuxian’s eyes are half-lidded and dark. His throat suddenly feels as dry as sand. He clears his throat.

“That is allowed,” he says, voice hoarse. He brushes their lips together, feather-light. “You may call me however you wish…A-Ying.”

He closes the scant distance between them and brings their lips together.

--

Notes:

fujun (夫君) - husband, more formal and old-fashioned (male version of furen 夫人)

er-lang (二郎) - previously used in Part #55, an affectionate address similar to er-gege, most often used between married couples

* WWX also refers to himself here as qieshen (妾身), which is an old-fashioned, humble form of address used by wives when speaking to their husbands; it translates to “this concubine”, but he is definitely the “wife” (main/legal spouse)

In general, married couples back then (especially those where the husband has a title) do not refer to each other by name in public (or even sometimes at home). They would refer to the other by their title or honorific when with other people (e.g. WWX would refer to LWJ as wangye when talking to others) or use a humble form of their relationship “title”, for lack of a better word (e.g. a husband would refer to their wife as neijian (内贱) - “humble wife”, nei literally meaning ‘interior, internal’ and thus referring to the wife as the one inside their home; jian meaning humble or lowly).

--

Master Post here

--

buy me a ko-fi

[in-my-feels-probably]

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker 

Chapter Nine

If you would like to read this on Wattpad, it’s on there as well, my @ is in_my_feels_probably and there’s a few visuals and better descriptions and stuff on there. otherwise, enjoy, let me know what you think, and you can check out my masterlist for updates and more. don’t forget to read the prologue, it’s important to the story!

INEFFABLE – Kaz Brekker

ineffable (adj.) too great to be expressed in words, utterly indescribable; too sacred to speak of. 

Chapter Nine

Elham had successfully made it past the guards. Baghra was right, they had paid no mind to a random Grisha walking around the courtyard, instead scanning for unwanted guests. They had simply nodded at her as she stepped inside. She immediately had removed her kefta, discarding it in a random hall closet, left in only her dress, which she was sure she must have looked uncomfortable and out of place in.

She was now wandering through random passageways, trying to find her way to the ballroom. She was desperately trying to remember the blueprints Kaz had shown her, trying not to get caught, when she heard a voice.

“Are you lost?”

A chill ran up Elham’s spine, and she went rigid. It was the Darklings voice.

“You aren’t supposed to be back here, the fete is in the ballroom. Can I help you find your way?”

Elham tried to control her breath, willing the tears to stop falling. She quickly wiped under her eyes, finally turning to face him. He hadn’t aged a day. He gave her a soft smile, but it slowly faded as he seemed to analyze her face.

“Have we met before? What’s your name?”

Elham realized she must have looked much older than the little girl who had fled the Little Palace, and she stamped a smile on her face, trying to mask her fear.

“I’m so sorry, sir. My name is Anya. I needed a bit of fresh air, and I must have gotten lost. No, I don’t think we have met, it’s my first time at the Palace. And I think I would remember meeting a General. I hope you’ll forgive me for saying this, but it’s all quite...overwhelming. I didn’t mean to get so turned around, though, I just needed a minute.”

The Darkling’s smile returned, and he offered her his arm. “It’s quite alright, I’ll lead you back to the party.”

Elham hesitated, before taking his arm, stepping in place beside him. He began guiding them back to the party.

“Where did you say you’re from, if I may ask? You look terribly familiar, I must know your family.”

“I quite doubt it. I’m from a small town in Kribirsk, but my family is from Novyi Zem. We came into some money and my father decided Ravka was a better opportunity for us. Turns out he was right, I never imagined we would be invited to the winter fete. My father fell ill a few weeks ago, however, but he insisted I still come, meet good people.”

The Darkling smiled, patting her hand with his. They had arrived just outside the ballroom. “I’m glad you came. I hope you enjoy your stay, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to. Just go right through those doors, the party is in there.”

“Of course, thank you for helping me find my way back!”

He gave her a graceful nod, and turned down another corridor, leaving her standing still in the middle of an empty hall. She let out the breath she had been holding. She violently rubbed at the arm he had been holding, trying to wipe away his touch. He had been uncharacteristically cold to the touch, despite his warm greeting, and Elham could still feel his hand on her skin.

She caught her breath, calming herself as best she could. The Crows still needed her, and the plan wasn’t going to fail because she couldn’t keep her wits together. She headed into the ballroom, scanning the crowd of people for anyone familiar, or the Sun Summoner herself.

A guard came to stand next to her, clearing his throat.

“Sorry sir, I...saints, Kaz?”

He whispered next to her, barely looking in her direction, trying not to blow his cover. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you, you know the plan--”

He stopped talking, now fully turning to face her. His jaw clenched, and he slightly nodded his head, motioning for them to back away from the crowd, towards the corner of the room. “El, why are you crying?”

She reached a hand up to wipe under her eyes, and was surprised when she felt the tears on her cheeks. “I didn’t even know I was.”

“What happened?”

“We don’t have time for this. I’ll explain everything later, I promise, let’s just get what we came for and get out of here, I hate this place.”

He nodded, and Inej appeared next to them. She looked surprised to see Elham in the state she was in, but with a quick glare from Kaz, she didn’t even question it.

They stood in the corner of the room, watching the Grisha put on their little talent show the King had requested. As much as Elham hated this place, and she was sure she would have been miserable if she stayed, she almost missed her time there. Watching the Inferni bounce flames across the room had her in awe, and part of her wished she could be standing alongside them, showing off her talents.

Kaz looked unimpressed. “It’s reflective glass. Bounce the light into that, and people won’t know whether it’s coming or going.”

Inej rolled her eyes, stepping to another side of the room. Elham was about to follow, when she saw the Darkling, guiding the Sun Summoner through the crowd. Alina was dressed in a black kefta with golden embroidery. She was wearing the Darkling’s colors.

Elham decided it was better to stay away from the pair, not wanting the Darkling to catch on to who she was. Plus, as much as she hated to admit it, she somehow felt safer standing close to Kaz in the room.

Kaz would be no match against the Darkling or his favored Grisha if it came down to defending themselves, but he seemed to always survive improbable odds, and Elham was more than willing to bet that she would somehow make it out alive if she stuck by his side.

Alina stood behind the Darkling as he turned around, addressing the crowd. The room had fallen silent. “Her name is Alina Starkov. And she will bring liberation to us all.”

The Darkling stepped off the stage, and the crowd parted. Elham held her breath, shrinking back towards Kaz. The Darkling lifted both arms out, before swiftly clapping his hands together. Darkness enveloped the room. Wisps of black floated through the air. Elham could make out the Darkling turning to Alina, holding his hand out to her.

Alina stepped forward, and Elham was suddenly filled with a sense of hope. She didn't think Baghra would lie about such things, but hearing about a Sun Summoner and seeing one for herself were two very different things.

Alina put her hands together, calling the light. She slowly pulled them apart and held them steady, revealing a small sphere of light in between her fingertips. She bounced the ball of light from hand to hand, before creating another. Elham watched in admiration, a hand coming up to her mouth.

Alina pushed the light up and over the crowd, letting it reflect in the glass. She pulled her hands apart, letting light fill the room. Elham watched the Grisha around the room look at each other, smiling. She glanced over at Inej, who was absolutely beaming. Alina dropped her hands, and the Darkling released his hold, letting light fill the room once more.

The crowd murmured to themselves, some bowing down, some praying. Elham finally made out what they were saying, as she watched Inej mouth the words herself.

“Sankta Alina.”

Elham didn’t believe in saints, but even she was starting to question her beliefs. Alina may or may not have been a Saint, but she was powerful, and she was vulnerable, and Elham refused to let that kind of power fall into the wrong hands.

---

Elham stood with a drink in her hand, close enough to Inej and Kaz that they could include her in the conversation, without her looking suspicious. To an onlooker, it seemed as if she was simply admiring a piece of art on the wall, or that she may have had a little too much to drink.

Elham swirled her cup, listening to Kaz explain his plan for flushing out Arken. He really had betrayed them, and now, he was going to meet an unfortunate end. It didn’t seem that unfortunate to Elham, however. A man who profits off the Fold and the poor souls lost in it was not a good man, and she wouldn’t mourn someone like that. She just wished that she could have been the one to watch him go herself. She quite liked a bit of poetic justice.

Kaz and Inej had started moving, and Elham slowly trailed behind them. Kaz approached Alina.

“Miss Starkov! We are to escort you to dinner. Could you come with us, please?”

“I thought, umm...well, actually I am quite hungry.”

Elham watched as Alina was led down the hall in her direction, when the Darkling stepped around the corner, standing too close for comfort. Elham quickly turned away from him, suddenly looking very interested in her drink.

“Thank you. I’ll take her from here.”

He led her away, and Elham quickly moved closer to Kaz and Inej, suddenly aware of the Darkling’s Grisha eying them from around the room.

“Alright, plan B. Scratch that, plan F. Stay on the target and meet me at the escape route. Elham, come with me, they’re onto you too. Act like you're asking me for directions, and I’m going to lead us to that corridor.”

She nodded, and Inej headed in the other direction. “He’s an Inferni. Don’t take chances.”

Funny, Elham thought. If it came down to it, this would be her chance to reveal to Kaz her powers. She dreaded the look of betrayal that almost definitely would come her way, but if it meant defending him against another Inferni, she wouldn’t hesitate.

---

Kaz had led them through winding corridors, all the way to the chapel. Elham could tell the pace without his cane was killing him, she could see the grimace of pain on his face he was trying to hide.

“Kaz, I can--”

“Shut it, El. Hide. He’s coming.”

Kaz quickly ducked behind a pillar, and she dove down under one of the pews on the other side. Her heart was pounding, her mind racing. There was only so much they could do against an Inferni. Without having to create a spark, Elham could best him, moving quicker than he could. But she’d reveal her powers, and they were already unpredictable enough as is. She lowered herself closer to the ground, tucking into herself as the Inferni entered the room, scanning for them.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you, limping man? You’re like a wounded spider in my house. You know what my sister and I do to spiders?”

The Inferni had gotten on top of the pews now, and was briskly hopping closer and closer to Elham across the top. She could hear him ignite his flame, and she sucked in a breath. She was at the front pew ducking down, ready to attack, when the Inferni jumped to the last pew, peering down at her.

Kaz leaped out from behind the pillar, clutching a piece of bannister, swinging it hard against the back of the Inferni’s legs, sending him tumbling down to the floor next to Elham, who quickly scrambled up and behind Kaz.

Kaz stomped on the Inferni’s arm, preventing him from raising his hands. “Unlike a spider, I only need one good leg. However, you look like you need both hands.”

He swung the bannister down on the man’s arm, sending out a nauseating crunch, along with the man’s scream of pain. Kaz pressed down harder, and Elham could hear the bone crack. She almost grinned. Kaz brought the bannister down once more, sending it cracking across the Inferni’s face, seeming to knock him out cold.

Kaz took a deep breath, stumbling back as he threw the bannister away from himself, turning to face Elham. He limped towards her letting out a groan, and she fought herself from reaching out to steady him.

“Are you alright, Kaz?” He just tiredly nodded in her direction, moving closer to her. She grinned, but as soon as she did, it fell from her face, her body going rigid.

“Kaz!”

Her eyes widened, and before Kaz could even turn to see what she was looking at, Elham quickly shoved her shoulder into his side, knocking him to the ground. She quickly moved to block his body with hers, hiding his frame from the Inferni’s sight.

He smacked the ground in shock, turning over to see Elham, raising her hands high, a flame erupting from her hands.

She was going to do this. She had to. The Inferni snarled, creating a spark, but Elham had already shot a flame across the room, it landing on the sleeve of the man’s kefta. His face scrunched in surprise, and he batted at the sleeve, trying to extinguish the flame.

Elham darkly chuckled, quickly advancing on the man. Kaz had sat up now, to see Elham raising her hands, sending one fireball after the other towards the man, all catching fire on his kefta.

The Inferni was screaming now, collapsing to the ground, but Elham didn’t waver. He was desperately rolling on the ground, clutching at his arms, but she just stood over him, bouncing a flame between her fingertips.

“You really shouldn’t have done that. I’m counting on seeing your sister later. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she realizes her brother died by his own power. I don’t quite like anyone threatening my family, so I’m sure you understand why it had to come to this.”

Elham’s grin had fallen from her face, replaced by a darkness that met her eyes. The Valkyrie had come out. “I’ll see you in hell.”

She raised her hands in one final swoop, sending a flame quickly across the Inferni’s face and throat, silencing his screams. His head lulled to the side, his eyes still wide open. He laid still.

He was dead.

Elham heard a gasp, and she quickly turned to find Inej now standing in the doorway, a hand covering her mouth. Elham let the flames recede into her palms, turning to face Kaz, who was now standing, staring at her with an unreadable expression.

Elham tried to find the right words. “I...I--”

Kaz stopped her. “You saved my life. The rest doesn’t matter.”

Elham sucked in a breath, feeling tears prick at her eyes, and Inej was suddenly at her side, cautiously placing a hand on her arm. Kaz directed his attention to Inej. “Get your Saint, and let’s go.”

Inej moved towards the exit, but Elham stood in her place, staring at the Inferni’s body on the ground.

“Elham.”

She didn’t move. Kaz was now at her side. “El! We have to go, now! You can explain the rest later.”

She just faintly nodded in his direction, letting him lead her out of the room and down the corridors.

---

A/N - hi everyone, i hope you liked this chapter. i promise i have a lot of cool stuff planned, just bear with me, getting in some of these plot points without changing the story too much is a little hard. i should have another chapter out soon. let me know what you thought, feel free to comment or message with anything, and thank you so much for the support.

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 1

https://lune-hime.tumblr.com/masterlist

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

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

Tulipa Estella Rijnveld ~ A tulip whose soft white petals are stained with a crimson pigment.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

The putrid sounds of screaming and bones cracking were gradually soaked up by the trees and replaced by the stillness of the evening. The newfound silence of the countryside left an eerie calm over the two scouts but only amplified the ringing in Levi’s ears. The thumping of the horse’s muddy hooves against the hardened spring ground made his head throb as they rode further and further away from the massacre. Any sound was better than nothing, though, otherwise the silence would make him hear their foul cries.

Your pained shrieks.

In his arms you laid limp, the only sign of life was your slight breaths that just barely caressed the bottom of his chin. Whenever it became uneven the ringing in his ears sharpened. He would squeeze your side instinctively, something he would usually do to wake you up when you slept in too late. Only this time instead of your hand in his it was your blood staining his palm. He applied constant pressure to your bleeding side with one hand while the other, white-knuckled and bruised, held the reins. His grip was the only thing that kept him from floating off that damned horse. He was grateful he had lost his horse in the chaos instead of you; you loved the animal too much for Levi’s liking and he knew how devastated you would be when you woke up and it wasn’t there.

Once we get there you better fucking wake up, Y/N.

Levi had somehow managed to stop your bleeding with the piece of his cloak tightly wrapped around your waist combined with the pressure of his hand. This gave him minor peace of mind as you galloped through forest after forest. Emerging from the thicket, the last obstacle blocking your path to safety materialized on the horizon. The towering structure of Wall Rose was baked pale in the waning rays of light, it's untouched bricks proudly protecting those who resided inside. Levi wasted no time in grabbing the guards’ attention the moment he reached the barred gate.

“LET ME IN.” He screamed, his voice scattering the crows that rested on the railing of the wooden lookout post. Though he was extremely winded, his command was firm. There were some muffled curses and the sound of glass shattering before one guard peaked his heads over the edge, making eye contact with Levi’s impatient form below. To say he was startled was an understatement.

“C-captain Levi?” He called out in disbelief. The guard looked from the captain to the limp body in his arms, eyes widening in shock when he saw the remnants of your profuse bleeding.

“Captain Levi is here?” Another voice slurred from behind the first guard. A second soldier appeared, rushing over to lean heavily on the railing and gawk in awe.

“Hey, Captain! What are you doing all the way here at Krolva? What an honor, do you have a minute? My niece is a big fan and if I could get your autograph I’m sure she would really appreci-” He rambled excitedly before being cut off by a brisk slap from his comrade. He stumbled from the railing with a groan, clutching the back of his head in pain.

“Are yer eyes still workin’? Can’t you see he’s a little busy for that.  He’s riding with a wounded soldier, idiot.” His more sober counter part scolded. They soon got into a drunken argument about how to address superior officers, especially ones with pressing issues. The more their pointless conversation droned on the more Levi’s anxiety level rose. If he was delayed any longer he felt like he was going to shatter like the soldiers’ discarded beer bottle.

“I don’t have time for your shit!” He exclaimed. Your horse had begun to sense Levi’s urgency and started pawing at the ground and pacing restlessly in front of the gate.

The guards immediately halted their chatter and turned their full attention to him once again, looking like scolded children. There was a brief silence, broken by a single hiccup.

“Just. Let. Me. In. The. Damned. Gate.” Levi seethed, voice dangerously low. The guards exchanged nervous glances before scrambling to make the call that would raise the iron bars. The second the gate creaked upward, your horse was ready and anxiously bouncing on its hooves. When the opening was just large enough to fit through, your horse bolted through.

When the soldiers stationed at the guard tower would later tell the story to their comrades, and eventually Commander Pixis, they would swear that they saw the devil himself within Levi’s eyes.

Time had no meaning anymore as he weaved between stalled carts and yelping pedestrians. His eyes were on the prominent steeple that jutted out like a sunflower among dandelions from the jagged edges of the residential buildings. After rounding corner after corner and navigating the winding side streets he applied pressure to the reins at the front of the aged church. The grim sight that befell him festered at his already bleeding heart.

Sickness hung so thickly in the air that Levi felt it seeping into the pores of his skin. Hoards of ill residents congregated outside of the newly deemed hospital. Ymir’s stoney outstretched arms beckoned them to be herded like sheep into the eglise by their shepherds donned in nurses uniforms. So slowly were they being admitted that Levi could ascertain that the establishment, as grand as it looked on the outside, would not be able to harbor all of them. The mob groaned, wretched, sputtered and seemed to move as one undulating blob of disease.

Levi’s face contorted as the stench of bile singed the inside of his nose. Every one of his brain cells was scolding him for even contemplating the idea of having you treated at a place with such levels of contamination, but by the fucking walls he had no other foreseeable option. He kicked your horse briskly in the gut, abruptly trotting away to confront one of the nurses.

“You have to let me in. She’s bleeding out and needs stitches now.” Levi ordered with the remaining level-headedness he had hanging by his pinkie. His sanity was flowing out of him at the same rate blood was leaving your body. But he would not let his emotion influence his body and mind. The nurse’s eyes widened to the size of eggs, obviously overwhelmed by the sheer ghastliness of the situation.

“Captain Levi?!” She exclaimed in disbelief, first at the sight of the infamous soldier and then to the limp body clutched in his arms. Levi was aware of his so-called “popularity” but he swore he was going to explode if one more person acknowledged his name before the critical state of the soldier in his embrace. The nurse’s eyes darted to Levi’s bloodstained palm and she let out a small gasp barely audible through the cloth. Her eyebrows furrowed and Levi could infer she was frowning deeply.

“Sir, I’m sorry but we are at full capacity.” Her smooth voice was muffled by her mask. “A recent outbreak in the eastern district has us overwhelmed.”

Her excuse passed through one of Levi’s ears and right out the other. Every minute he sat here idly was another precious minute of life drained from you.

“You absolutely don’t have anyone that could treat her? Or- just give me some goddamn stitches and I’ll do it myself!” Levi demanded, tone flaring at the latter half of his proposal. The nurse gulped and shook her head somberly.

“The capital has been limiting the export of medical supplies to selected districts, including Krolva. We are maxed out now due to the illness...I’m afraid we can’t offer you anything.”

Levi dug his hand into the reins and tugged at them in frustration, making your horse skitter sideways. The scouts prided him in being one of the most rational members of its legions, which was a gift he was honing into as his head spun so quickly with what little options he had left. Uncharacteristically irrational thoughts tempted him, however when a splash of floral color caught his eye just behind the nurse’s shoulder it clicked.

He was in Krolva.

Krolva was your hometown.

You had family here.

Family with a distinct profession.

He stared at the ornamental tulips in the church yard for a moment before whipping his head towards the nurse.

“Where is the tulip farm.” Levi’s simple inquiry held the esteem of a military order of the utmost importance. Anticipation bubbled up within him as the nurse sputtered at his seemingly random change of subject.

“Um-The Vogel Estate is located slightly out of the district. If you go through the gates of Wall Rose its about a half an hour off the main road. There are signs for it you can’t miss.” The nurse instructed, pointing in the direction of the gates. Levi nodded once and was about to turn your horse around when the nurse let out a sound of protest.

“Wait!” She said hurriedly. She looked around nervously before reaching into her dress pocket, pulling out an ivory handkerchief and a small vile. Her gloved hands reached out to you looking at Levi for permission to remove his crimson caked hand.

“This saline won’t do much, but it will minimize infection.” She instructed, carefully lifting Levi’s hand. Sticky blood attempted to reconnect his limb to your side, however the nurse blotted the most recent stream away with a steady hand. Her breath hitched at the severity of your wound as she began pouring the contents of the vile onto your torn skin. She then folded the handkerchief and placed it firmly onto your side, grasping Levi’s hand and placing it over the fabric.

“This should keep more dirt from getting into her wound and irritating it. Keep applying steady pressure; thankfully it looks like you have been doing that already.”

Levi looked from his hand to her eyes, grateful for the sympathy that they held despite his frustration.

“Thank you.” He said curtly. Then, tugged on your horse’s reins and with one swift kick was off towards Wall Rose. To his relief, the gates were wide open as merchants filed through them. He deftly rushed past their inventory checks, unsympathetic to the whines in protest when your horse’s side rammed into a cart resulting in the spilling of an expensive keg of whiskey.

The signs to the estate took him through a picturesque village that made him question if the both of you were even residing in the living world anymore. When the crisp clacking of hooves against the brick road manifested into drum beats on the hard earth Levi had a small sliver of hope he was finally nearing his destination.

He had no idea how long the two of you had been riding for as crop fields turned into whistling wheat fields; the euphoric rolling hills were laughable in comparison to the bloodbath you had fled from. Levi only had a vague idea of where he was headed; his mental map painted by fond childhood memories and other stories of your youth. Based on your descriptions the place you talked so much about couldn’t be hard to miss.

You had taken Levi to Krolva once, a little less than a year ago he reckoned, on a rare scouting legion day off. However, you were unable to stay at your family home due to a myriad of circumstances. He wouldn’t have admitted it but a sweet, syrupy nervousness would churn in his stomach whenever you would talk about introducing him to your family and the other intimate aspects of your childhood. He had, indeed, already met the closest members of your family. One a scout that Levi was quite familiar with and the other the owner of this estate. He could count on one hand the amount of times he had met her and could say with the utmost certainty that it perplexed him beyond hell how you two were related. The fact that this was the first time you two were going to be there together, well the irony was ludicrous.

As humble houses began to litter the landscape he regained some confidence in his surroundings. Levi began analyzing each structure as your horse sped past, hooves hitting the stone path with the intensity of gunshots. His frantic mind began convincing himself that he was in fact in the wrong location when he saw the subject of all your musings.

Tulips.

A vast ocean of tulips that extended so far they seemed like they could caress the horizon. Levi had never seen such a sight in his life. He was never able to fully comprehend the pristine scenery you always described but seeing it laid out in front of him had enlightened his mind. Across from the floral sea sat a grand house, its elaborate frame sticking out against the rural landscape. Levi urged your horse on with a firm kick, a pained whinny erupting from its belly.

Upon reaching the structure Levi yanked on reigns, causing your horse to slide to a stop along the dirt path of the front yard. The homestead was silent except for your horse’s labored panting. Not even the sparrows that nested along the siding of the ornate porch chirped or rustled about. Levi took advantage of the quietness to make his presence known.

“H-HELP!” He shouted, his voice faltering a bit from his sore throat. He was far too used to being on the receiving end of this plea and it made him sink even more into desperation that this time the roles were reversed. The stillness lingered but a moment before the grand door swung open with a force that sent it bombarding against the siding of the house.

“Y/N!” A figure cried from the porch, their bellow echoing over the high entryway. The woman hurried down the steps with a spryness that betrayed her age. As she neared, Levi was faced with the familiar features of your grandmother.

“What in all hell happened, Levi?” She exclaimed with viscous horror. Her face contorted into various morphs of worry and disdain with each new angle she viewed of your mangled body.

“Y/N...she-” Levi wheezed, but his throat was too dry to formulate a proper sentence. His voice was cracked and his shoulder was numbing to the point where he was beginning to lose feeling. Your grandmother exhaled and collected herself, a wave of determination fastening like a uniform onto her being.

“Shit. No time for my questions, we need to get her inside now.” She stated firmly, releasing the reins from Levi’s locked grip. He nodded and allowed his hands to rise to your shoulders to pass you off to the woman. To his delight instead of fresh blood a layer of dark liquid caked his palm. This meant you hadn’t bled a significant amount since the hospital. He let out a shaky breath as the woman gathered you into her arms. You fell limply into her embrace, her knees buckling a bit at your weight but she quickly regained her posture. You looked like a corpse, pale and utterly dead looking, which made Levi want to throw up.

He never threw up.

As the woman began carrying you inside, Levi lifted his leg to dismount your horse but winced in pain. He hadn’t noticed his own injuries due to your condition, but now that the adrenaline had started to wear down they were catching up to him. When he landed the dismount he was met with a sharp pain along his shoulder blade. The pain was just an annoyance though in the grand scheme of the situation. The one thing that mattered the most in his life had almost been torn to pieces. So his shoulder could wait.

He began to hobble towards the front door, leading your horse along with him. He let go of the reins just shy of the porch steps.

“Wait here.” He coughed. There was of course no way your horse would understand him, let alone obey him. Knowing that animal it most definitely wouldn’t stay in the same place Levi left it.

Making his way into the house he paused in the entryway, taking in his surroundings. The foyer ahead of him was spacious; a large staircase laid directly in front of him and tall archways to both his sides led further into the lodgings. The quarters screamed quaint luxury; from the high ceilings, the perfectly intact pearl colored walls, to the elaborately carved hand railings of the stairs. He knew your family wasn’t exactly poor, but he didn’t know they were this economically endowed.

“Up here, quickly.” The woman called from the second floor, consequently snapping him from his daze. Blinking a couple times he charged up the stairs, taking the polished wooden steps two at a time. Once at the top he saw an open door to his right, one of many along the hallway. Just like the rest of the house the room was big, wide windows letting in the evening sunlight and casting a warm glow across the chambers. You were splayed across the silk sheets, the smooth linen now dirtied by your blood and god knows who’s else's. Your shattered form contrasted with the affluence of the room and he felt like he had just walked into your funeral service. The woman was seated at your side next to the nightstand. She had a variety of medical supplies splayed across the small table; needles, thick thread, cotton, alcohol, steel scissors, gause.

“Help me adjust her.” She requested in a low tone. Levi nodded once before walking to the opposite side of the bed and gingerly grasping your shoulders. The woman had laid you haphazardly on your side, unable to properly lay you straight due to her old age. Levi was impressed nonetheless, however, that she had carried you all the way up those stairs from the front yard. He moved your body so you were laying on your back, arms against your sides. Not wanting to get in her way, Levi planted himself on the bed at your other side.

“I’m thankful that you brought her here.” She said as she cut away pieces of your shirt with the scissors. “But why in holy hell did you not bring her to a proper medical facility? Half of her got torn up by one of those fuckers.” She exclaimed, her voice quaked with emotion but her hands remained steady.

The woman really had a way with words.

“Apply pressure to her wound while I get the stitches.” She instructed, immediately padding about the room to gather her medical supplies. Levi did as he was told and cringed when your flesh squelched under his palm.

“The hospital at Krolva was full, they wouldn’t let us in because of the illness.” Levi explained in a voice uncharacteristically small. His gaze remained fixed on his hands. Damn, his fingers were twitching.

Your grandmother slammed a bottle of alcohol down on the nightstand in disgust. Her weathered arms shook slightly at the impact.

“That damned hospital, if you can even call it that, is never prepared to take on the ailments of this city.” She spat. Now having gathered all the necessary items she pulled the stool from the vanity and set it so she was level with your injury.

In the fray he hadn’t been able to get a proper look at your injury. The woman had bunched up your tattered shirt just under the swell of your chest. She examined your torso with seasoned eyes, yet Levi saw a tinge of worry laced in her gaze. The skin that was exposed looked like someone had taken a rake to it; indigo bruises framed a sea of tattered skin in the shape of a crescent moon. Your body bent in at an unnatural angle where the titan had bitten down on your side and Levi was just thankful that he couldn’t see any bone. Seeing you in this crippled state caused tears to sear the inside of his eyes but he refused to let the floodgates burst. This was not the time to be weak, especially with this woman here.

“Don’t go crying on me now, shorty. I know you aren’t the soft type.” Levi jumped at the familiarity in her tone. It put him on edge at first; he had arrived under dire circumstances now she was calling him names and was talking as if he was an old friend. But it was oddly comforting; the boldness and confidence in her voice eased away some of his jitteriness. He huffed in response before watching her work again.

Your grandmother used gentle fingers to assess the wound, gingerly prodding the areas where you should have had skin but you didn’t. She then reached for the cotton and alcohol and began to clean the wound as much as she could; the large teeth shaped holes in your side would be difficult for any trained physician to work with. But she handled the medical supplies with a grace Levi never considered possible. When she was finished cleaning your side she spoke up.

“She’s unconscious but she could still accidentally bite her tongue.” She stated, standing from the chair to rummage through the carven dresser. Out of the top drawer she pulled out a leather belt. She returned to the bedside and handed it to Levi.

“Place this in her mouth. I’m about to start stitching her wound.” She instructed, cutting a long piece of thread with the steel scissors. His fingertips brushed your jaw as he guided your mouth open. You were already slack jawed as little puffs of air were rising from your agape lips. He folded the belt in half two times and placed it between your teeth, careful to keep your tongue along the bottom of your mouth lest you started to choke.

Once he was done, Levi studied the woman’s hands as she prepared the needle. Her fingers were wrinkled, coarse, bent at the joints, and they looked like they had endured a lifetime of hard labor. Those aged fingers preformed with precision and finesse from the moment the needle entered your skin to the tying of the final thread.

Although not awake, you had in fact tried to bite down on the belt, letting out muffled groans each time skin met needle. Levi desperately wanted to look away each time but didn't out of fear you would bite through leather.

“Talk me through what happened.” Your grandmother said without a wavering of her concentration. Had she sensed his uneasiness? Levi swallowed hard, the action painful on his parched throat.

Levi’s whole body stung with exhaustion and pain as he prepared to explain. When he spoke again his voice was still hoarse but not as jagged as before.

“What was planned as a routine expedition turned into a recovery mission for Eren-”

“Mhmm, the boy who can shift into a titan.” Your grandmother interjected, mostly as clarification for herself. She attentively continued to thread you back together as if you were one of your chewed on stuffed animals that sat atop your dresser.

“Yeah. Y/N’s squad was set to clear out any incoming titans on the western edge. That’s when the abnormal appeared. I saw the flare and-” He explained, almost in a whisper. Damn did his throat hurt. Damn did everything hurt.

“You acted out of order.” Your grandmother stated simply. A knowingly somber smile upturning her wrinkled mouth. Her words and the soft manner in which they were said caused Levi’s mouth to hang agape mid sentence.

“Which I am grateful for. Otherwise she might have died alone out there.” She added. Her expression was as even as her handiwork but Levi could see that in her eyes concern was brewing like freshly charred coals.

“A ripe piece of shite it is that this is the longest conversation we’ve had isn’t it?” Your grandmother huffed a dry laugh. Levi could only nod in response as he watched your jaw clench when her needle deftly plunged into a heavily bruised area.

She was right. The other times he had interacted with the woman were brief and professional. Both were at military events that left little room for idle chatter, seeing as she was a highly praised veteran of the garrison. One interaction occurred before you two were committed and one...well that awkward experience could not have been far enough from the forefront of his mind.

It took thirty minutes for the woman to piece you back together but it felt like a fortnight for Levi.  When she was finished she exhaled loudly and wiped her hands on a now stained crocheted dish towel.

“All done.” She stood and placed her hands on her hips. Levi couldn't begin to thank her enough for all she had done in such a short amount of time.

“Thank you, for everything.” He coughed, thus sending a wave of pain down his shoulder blade.

A huff of laughter left her lips and she sent a wyry smile his way.

“Well, what kind of grandmother would I be if I left my granddaughter as the remains of titan fodder? Come on let’s get her in some clean clothes and wash some of this blood off.” Levi nodded once and proceeded to help your grandmother get you changed and cleaned up. When the two of them had finished you almost looked back to your normal self; your body tucked under the satin covers in an elegant ivory nightgown. Your features were soft, plush lips parted and breathing steady. You now fit in with the lavish ambiance of the space. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. That is until he felt a poke on his arm.

“It won’t do either of us any good if we just sit here staring at her. Come downstairs, i’ll make you some food and stitch you up too.” Your grandmother was looking up at him sternly. Levi shot her a confused glare and she met his gaze with another chuckle.

“You don’t hide your wounds very well, humanity’s strongest. Now come on, don’t make an old lady wait.”