#but this is everything i've ever needed in life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hivemuthur · 19 hours ago

Note

Hii! Thank you for replying. I've read five things and loved it so much I wanted to send another ask, and somehow managed to forget to send it, but never mind here it is now.

I was thinking a viktor×reader who were eachother's first everything (early academy days?) but than the reader had to move away for schooling/work, whatever, but now they're back (sometime after the beginning of hextech) and have to work with jayce and viktor. How would that dynamic look like? They didn't breakup over an argument or because they fell out of love but because that's the way life took them. I'm imagining them knowing eachother so well inside and out to the point people just assume they're dating. (Reader making viktors coffee even better than he can himself, viktor making something to fix a problem reader has but never had a solution for, anything really). And I don't know, maybe, possibly, somehow the tension gets to be too much for both of them and they're both more skilled now and whatnot... (I could live without that part tho, is you feel like it doesn't fit)

Sorry if the ask is too complicated, I've just been thinking about it for so long.

I know it's gonna be a while before you can write it but I can't wait to read all of the other requests in the meantime.❤️

~🍒

Dear sweet 🍒 Janna, hello again! Here's your fic!

Same As It Ever Was

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! a bit of everything - fluff, angst (light), smut

word count: 5,6K

author’s note: this is very freeform, an experiment, kinda? A story told in vignettes, little scenes between Viktor and Reader since the moment she came back to the Academy interwoven with their past, sex included. For this to work, I've written current events in Present Tense and the flashbacks in Past Tense.

artist on X (obsessed at this point)

—

You brace yourself with a deep breath—just as you did all those years ago. With lungs full of air, you cross the threshold, and memories come crashing back. Heimerdinger’s lectures, suspicious cafeteria food, noise complaints from your neighbours when Jayce laughed too loud in your dorm. Your dorm itself—its lumpy bed, not enough cabinet space for your books, scattered notes, and long night study sessions with Viktor.

As promised, he and Jayce are there, waiting to pick you up in the entrance hall. Jayce is as giddy as ever—stretching, chattering, busying himself with the announcement board, occasionally pointing at something to get Viktor’s attention. He looks almost the same.

Viktor, on the other hand—nearly still. He leans on a… crutch? It’s a crutch now, huh. You wince at not knowing sooner. An extra brace on his leg as well. His form is more hunched than you remember. He nods at Jayce’s remarks absently, craning his head toward the door, and his face—oh. It lights up when he sees you, just as it used to. Your heart travels all the way up to your throat.

You have to force yourself not to skip. Jayce reaches you first, nearly crashing into you with his embrace. He’s stronger than before, his shoulders broader. Either he’s gotten taller, or Viktor looks shorter. He pats your back and chuckles a mumbled hi—but your eyes are already on Viktor.

He opens his arms in an inviting gesture, and you slide right in. He still fits. He still smells the same, though there’s a lingering trace of oil on his collar. His hair is longer, and his clothes hang looser on his frame, but he feels the same. His neck is just as pretty, his hands just as strong. They go where they used to—one to your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck. You take one last inhale before he pulls back, a familiar spark playing in his eyes as he says, "Welcome back."

***

You stared at the schedule board, squinting as you tried to make sense of the messy list. You muttered under your breath, crossing out dates in frustration when the door behind you creaked open.

A voice spoke from behind, calm and precise. “Do you need assistance?”

You turned to see him—tall, neat, with a cane at his side. Pretty hair falling boyishly over his forehead, eyes the colour of liquid gold, two freckles decorating his upper lip and a spot under his eye. His voice was thickly accented, and you suddenly felt dumber than ever.

“What gave me away?” you huffed, managing a smile. “Groaning or furious scribbling?”

“Eh, a little bit of both,” he said, leaning in slightly to point at a part of the board. “Let me help?”

You handed him your notebook, and he made quick work of explaining the confusing schedule. “Looks like we’ll be seeing each other,” he hummed, studying your timetable.

Thank the gods, you thought. Feigning surprise instead of relief, you raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nodded, the faintest smile pulling at his lips. “I’m looking forward to having class with you. I’m Viktor.”

In response, you muttered your name in one breath.

Without another word, he pressed the notebook into your hand, making sure your hands brushed, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, momentarily dumbfounded.

***

You follow Jayce and Viktor through the lab, eyes wide as they show you around. The space is far more impressive than you remember—equipment gleams, wires stretch across the ceiling like intricate veins, and the hum of machinery fills the air. Jayce is practically bouncing with excitement, narrating every little detail with an energy that nearly has you dizzy, while Viktor stays quieter, his gaze focused, occasionally glancing at you as though checking for your reactions.

You’re still trying to wrap your mind around everything when the tour finally ends, and Viktor turns to you with a small smile. “Is there anything you need?” he asks, his voice as smooth and calm as ever.

You consider it for a moment, then sigh dramatically. “I would kill for a coffee.”

Jayce snorts a laugh, “Things don’t really change, do they? Do you want to make it yourself as usual?”

“Of course, as you mentioned—things don’t change, which means I still don’t trust any of you with your coffee-making skills, Jayce,” you reply with a smirk, stepping past him toward the kitchenette area. Viktor watches you closely, but you don’t pay him any mind as you start pulling out the necessary ingredients. “Do you want one?” you throw over your shoulder. And Viktor nods with a smile.

You fall into an easy rhythm, just like old times. Your hands work quickly, grinding the beans, adjusting the water temperature, adding the perfect amount of milk—exactly how you know he likes it. It’s almost like your body remembers, and you can’t help but feel a strange sort of nostalgia as the familiar process comes naturally.

The sound of Viktor clearing his throat breaks your focus, and when you turn, he’s standing a little closer than you expected. His eyes are fixed on the coffee mug in your hands, and the way he’s staring at it almost makes you laugh.

You hand him the cup with a raised brow. “Did I get it right?”

He takes a slow sip, his expression unreadable at first. Then, after a long pause, he sets the cup down carefully on the counter, still looking at you, and says quietly, “Perfect.”

The fact that you remember how to make it, that you remember him—how he likes it, what he’s used to—has him speechless. You watch him for a moment, unsure of what he’s thinking, and the quiet fills the space between you both.

“Just like before,” he says, as though to himself, and you can't help but smile.

***

“Okay, coffee or death,” you whined, pressing your forehead to the desk with exaggerated dramatics. It had been your fourth hour of studying, and the letters on the page began to blur.

“I guess it’s coffee then,” Viktor stretched his legs in the chair before scrambling up to the kettle. “I have no idea how I would explain a corpse in my room.”

“I do not care what motivates your actions, I’m just in dire need of something keeping me alive, or I will fail this class,” you mumbled, still buried in the notes resting under your face. A cup set firmly by your left cheek made your eyebrow quirk, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ah, sweet salvation,” you hummed, grabbing it and taking a sip. And then—

“Viktor. What is this?”

Viktor’s voice was light as he shrugged. “It’s a coffee strong enough to keep you awake until morning.”

You winced, shaking your head slightly. “It’s so strong, it could actually solve the dead body problem you’ve mentioned before.”

He chuckled at that, his gaze still on you. “I suppose that’s one way to describe it.”

You huffed in frustration. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

Viktor only grinned, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself out of your chair and crossing the room to the counter. “Alright, move aside.” You grabbed the ingredients with a practiced hand, preparing a new brew. “This is coffee, not the motor fluid you made.”

Viktor leaned back in his chair, watching you as you worked. “That’s very thoughtful. I suppose you can always become a barista if you fail the class.”

You turned, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Just wait, Viktor. You’ll see. If I fail, I’ll open my own shop. I’ll call it ‘Professor Coffee’—I’ll make sure the brew is strong enough to wake the dead.”

Viktor’s laugh was soft but genuine. “It seems you’ve got it all figured out.”

***

You reach out, barely muttering, “Could you pass me…” before the tool is already in your hand. You glance at Viktor, who hasn’t even looked up from his work.

“How did you know?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

He taps his temple, a small smile playing beneath his goggles. “I have a good memory.”

***

You frowned at your workbench, trying to put a name to the tool you needed, but your mind blanked.

“Can you pass me the…” you began, unsure, your voice trailing off. You made a small gesture with your hand, hoping Viktor would somehow understand what you meant. Without hesitation, he handed you a wrench.

“No, not this,” you said, waving it off. “The other one?” You gestured again.

Viktor stared at you, brows furrowed, before passing you a screwdriver.

“Not that one either!” you huffed, frustration creeping in—not with him, but because your mind had suddenly decided to fail.

The ritual continued, with Viktor visibly amused as your hand hovered over the various tools he’d passed you. Wrenches, pliers, a hammer, and a couple of screwdrivers littered the workbench. You glanced down at your notes, trying to remember.

Viktor hummed, looking from your desk to your notes. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a knowing smile. “Ah. This one?”

Before you could respond, he was standing behind you, lowering the tool into your hand. His arms brushed the sides of your face, and you felt the press of his stomach against your back. For a moment, you froze, breath catching in your throat.

“A calliper,” you whispered.

“Well done, lásko,” Viktor muttered into your ear.

***

The clock announces an hour way past when you’ve expected to be home already. “Should we call it a night?” you ask Viktor, who sits opposite you, a soft smile curling on his lips.

“Some things have changed, then,” he says, tapping his crutch lightly against the floor. “You used to work until figurative death back in the day.”

“Well, I guess I’m getting older,” you reply with a grin, your tone light but laced with a touch of weariness. “What about you? Any big changes?”

He knocks on his brace playfully, lifting the crutch with a small gesture. “Besides the visible?” He chuckles softly. “Not much. Still working to the death.”

Your smile falters for a second, your gaze softening as you roll closer to him on your chair. You rest your hands gently on his knees, studying his face for any signs of deeper discomfort.

“Are you well, though?” you ask, your voice quiet, careful.

Viktor looks at your hands for a moment, then props the crutch on the desk beside him. He squeezes your palms, his grip firm but tender.

“I am now,” he replies, his voice low, almost like a confession. “Haven’t been for a while, but now I’m well. As well as I can be.” He pauses for a beat, then adds with a small smile, “And now that you’re back, I’m even better.”

You brush your fingers gently through his hair, feeling the familiar warmth of his presence, the intimacy of the gesture. Viktor hums softly, his eyes fluttering closed in response. So familiar, you think, a wave of nostalgia washing over you.

You swallow before speaking again, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’ve missed you.”

Viktor’s eyes remain closed, his expression softening, and when he speaks, his voice heavier now when he sighs. “I know.” He pauses, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ve missed you too.”

***

You and Viktor lay in bed together, tangled in the warmth of each other’s embrace. His arm was draped around you, and the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek was a steady comfort. The room was quiet, unbearably so, when you nuzzled into his neck, inhaling deeply. His scent—rich, familiar, like the warmth of him—filled your senses, and you clutched him tighter, as though trying to memorize the feeling of him.

"I'm going to miss you so much," you whispered, your voice muffled against his skin, your breath shaky with the weight of the thought.

Viktor hummed softly in response, his fingers tracing small circles on your back. "I know. I will miss you terribly too." His words were gentle, but there was a deep sadness in his voice that you could feel even without looking at him.

He nudged your face with his nose, his palm warm as it cupped your cheek. His touch felt like a promise, though you weren't sure what to expect. "If it's meant to be, we will meet again," he said, his voice low, the words wrapped in the quiet certainty.

A pang in your chest tugged at you, and without thinking, you leaned up, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft, but your heart ached with the knowledge that this might be the last time you felt him close. It tasted with bitter acceptance, as you poured every bit of feeling you had into it, hoping it would somehow last, somehow hold you both together despite the distance that would come.

When you pulled away, your heart felt heavy, like it was breaking in your chest.

***

You both sit on the couch in your apartment, papers and notes scattered around you, a quiet hum of frustration bounces between you. Viktor’s hair is dishevelled, falling into his eyes, and his shirt has found its way half-out of his pants, a few buttons undone. He stares at the pages in front of him, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and determination. You glance over at him, hoping for a breakthrough.

“Any ideas?” you ask, your voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

Viktor groans and rubs his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “You know what… I think I’m getting old too,” he mutters, dropping his hand to your lap. “Can we get back to it when I’ve had at least two hours of sleep?”

He looks at you, his hand settling on your knee absentmindedly, his fingers warm through the fabric of your clothes. You stare at his hand for a moment, before looking up at him. He seems so tired, but also so… beautiful. His rumpled clothes and tousled hair remind you of the boy you loved.

“Sure,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You look at him, really look at him. He’s always been handsome, but tonight you can finally see how much time has passed. The wrinkles carving his face deeper, jaw stronger, singular grey strands shining through the chestnut hair. Eyes the same. He doesn’t look like a boy anymore.

Wordlessly, you move closer to him and his gaze doesn’t falter. You cup his cheeks and brush your thumb over his lip. And then, your mouth comes close to his, into a soft brush, trembling and tentative. And Viktor responds with a hand sliding up your thigh and a tilt of his head. He cranes his neck and closes the little distance left between you with a sigh of relief.

His free hand slides up to your neck, pulling you in as his mouth parts and tongue joins to wrestle with yours. He gasps when you bite his lower lip and hums, as his palm slides behind to cup your ass. Fully in his grasp, he press yourself more onto him, fingers tangling into his hair, coaxing small sounds out of his throat. It’s wet and slow and when you peek through your eyelashes his brows are scrunched and a blush blooms down his neck to his chest.

He doesn’t kiss like a boy anymore, you think to yourself. It comes unbidden and warms your insides up.

The taste of him lingers on your lips as you pull away just a fraction, your breaths mingling. You barely have a moment to think before Viktor kisses you back, deeply, hoarse inhale taken straight from your lungs leaves you dizzy.

***

Viktor had walked you back to your dorm after a late-night study session at the library. His pace was slow, almost reluctant, as if he was trying to figure out what to say before you parted ways. You were too tired to wait for him to find the words, your mind still foggy from hours of studying.

“I guess this is goodn—” you started, but before you could finish the word, his lips were on yours. The kiss came out of nowhere, abrupt and clumsy, pressing you back into the door behind you. For a moment, you froze, your tired mind scrambling to catch up with what was happening.

Then, the realization sank in, and the sound that left your lips transformed from startled surprise to a soft moan. You responded without thinking, hands sliding up Viktor's sides, feeling the warmth of his body as you kissed him back.

He dropped his cane, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. His touch was urgent, hands cradling your back and drawing you in as you ran your fingers through his hair. Feeling your response, he grew bolder, shut his eyes and concentrated on drawing deep breaths through his nose to not have to part from you.

Hands everywhere, as if he couldn’t decide what to do. You nearly laughed when she squeezed your butt quickly, only to go back to your waist, slide into your ribs and then to the small of your back. So feverish.

When the oxygen run out, he broke the kiss but still kept you close. “I wanted to do this for the longest time,” he chuckled into your mouth.

***

He gives himself a good-willed push off the couch’s armrest but ends up trapping your hip beneath his. His face scrunches in worry when you hiss, but the sound quickly transforms into a laugh. When your stomach shakes beneath him, Viktor feels a strange swelling in his chest. This is so familiar.

He looks at you longingly, sliding his fingers into your hair. Your laughter dies into a moan when his groin presses between your legs. His tongue grows more eager now, as if he remembers just how much he used to want you. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he breathes against your lips, and you respond by fisting his shirt, nearly tearing it. You try to say you’ve missed him too—fuck, how much you’ve missed him every day—but you can’t, because your mouth is full.

You brace yourself on your elbows, meeting him halfway. You’re not sure you can bear to part long enough for him to take your clothes off, so instead, you take his hands and press them to your ass. He accepts, of course, kneading your flesh in rhythm with his breath.

When you finally straddle him, your fingers move to undo the rest of his shirt. That’s when he stills. His palms come up to wrap around yours, and a quiet plea escapes him. “Wait,” he says weakly, his cock already hard—you’re sure this costs him a lot.

“Whatever for?” you ask, nosing at his face before pressing kisses to his cheeks, his closed eyelids. You untangle your fingers from his and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I should show you something first,” he murmurs, and begins to undo his shirt. You lean back to give him space to sit up, but your hips never leave his, and your eyes never look away from his face. You give him the room he needs, and feel unbearably not close enough.

***

You fought with the doorknob to your bedroom for a hot minute. Viktor, being very distracting, had completely derailed your brain from this simple dexterity task with continuous neck-licking and ear-kissing. He kept smirking against your skin, all cocky and pleased with himself, ever since the moment you’d asked, “Do you want to come in?”

You stumbled into the room together, and his fingers immediately shot to your vest. You hadn’t even blinked properly before it was undone, his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt, his cane hooked over his forearm.

Laughing and snorting at his clumsiness, you’d steadied him by the waist and let him walk you backward toward the bed.

Your hands fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, but they were small and stubborn, and you were too impatient. With a frustrated huff, you abandoned the effort and slid your hands over his shoulders instead. “Arms up,” you ordered, and Viktor chuckled as he complied.

He lifted his arms obediently, but as you dragged his shirt over his head, it caught for a moment, tangling around his face. He let out a muffled laugh, flailing slightly as you tugged it free, and the moment he was loose, he lost his balance. He tumbled backward onto the bed with an oof, propping himself up on his elbows as he grinned up at you.

You stepped between his legs, watching as his expression softened, turning almost reverent. His hands found your waist, fingers brushing deliberately over the fabric of your skirt before he slid it down, letting it pool at your feet. His lips followed the motion, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach before he rested his chin there, gazing up at you.

He cradled your hips, thumbs stroking lazily over your skin. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his voice quiet, careful.

You nodded, eager, and leaned down to kiss him, pouring every answer he could ever need into the press of your lips.

***

“There is both more and less to me than there used to be,” Viktor says, rubbing slow, thoughtful circles up and down your thighs. His expression is pensive, and an apology lingers somewhere in his voice. You hate that he feels the need to apologise in the first place.

Your touch slides across his chest, down—down the leather ridges of a brace you’ve never seen before. It screams Jayce Talis with every bolt, every stitch, and your heart aches at the thought that you weren’t here when this was happening.

Your eyes dart between his chest and his lips before you finally nestle deeper against his pelvis, wrap your arms back around his neck, and crush your mouth to his in a kiss that weeps remorse. “You beautiful, beautiful man,” you whisper, pressing your face into his. “How are you so brave?”

You cup his cheeks, and he only smiles, covering your palm with his.

“I’m not brave. I just… survived,” Viktor says with a small shrug. Then, after a pause: “Would you like to help me take them off?”

You nod, eager, and lean down to kiss him, pouring all the fragmented pieces of yes into the press of your lips.

***

Viktor rolled with you across the sheets, his hands skimmed up your sides, warm and eager, fingers pressing into your skin like he was trying to memorise the feel of you. Your mouths met again, lips parting, tongues teasing—lazy and deep, now that you had each other finally.

He pulled you closer, your thighs bracketing his hips, and when you reached down, fingers curling into the waistband of his trousers, he let out a shaky breath. You grinned against his mouth, tugging them lower inch by inch, letting your nails drag over his skin just to hear the quiet little sounds he made in response. Finally, with one last playful yank, you pulled them off entirely, giggling when they got caught at his ankles for a moment before slipping free.

And then you saw it—his brace.

Viktor stiffened immediately. His hands twitched at his sides, and he turned his head slightly, as if he wanted to look anywhere but at you. "It’s nothing," he muttered, voice quieter than before. "You don’t have to—"

You reached out, your palm settling gently on his leg. "Viktor," you said softly, your touch firm but tender. His gaze flicked back to yours, guarded, unsure. "You are so beautiful."

He gasped, a sound so quiet you might not have caught it if you weren’t so close. His lips parted slightly, eyes searching yours like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right.

You didn’t give him time to argue. Instead, you leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his thigh, just above the brace. He shivered beneath you. Carefully, you undid the clasps, your fingers working with quiet reverence, peeling away the brace as if unveiling something sacred.

It left behind faint indentations in his skin—lines and ridges pressed deep from the whole day of wear. You kissed each one, your lips trailing over the marks with the same care you’d give any other part of him. Viktor’s breath hitched, his fingers threading into the sheets, gripping tight.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, barely above a whisper, he breathed, "You undo me."

***

You set the last metal part of Viktor aside, and now, finally—after years of longing—you see him. His legs are parted, eternal bruises marking his thigh and knee, the toes of one foot cramped closer together than the other. His ribs bear pearly little scars where the chest brace has caught against his skin.

His cock rests idly in the crease of his thigh, beautiful as ever—pink at the tip, his navel scattered with curly hair that meets in a neat line just below his belly button. His hips are sharp angles, his belly rising and falling with each breath. You take in this adult man’s body and compare it to the boy you fell in love with. And you are sure now—there is only more to him than there used to be.

You step between his legs, and his arms reach out, fingers tracing a scar on your lower abdomen. He hums, “This is new.”

“You should see the other guy,” you murmur playfully. “A machine malfunctioned at the lab. One of the energy conductors went unstable, and before I could shut it down, a piece of metal sliced me open.” You pause, watching his face tense. “I got lucky.”

Viktor brushes his thumb over the scar tissue before lowering his lips, pressing a kiss to it—slow, reverent. “My brave girl,” he mutters against your skin. Your head lulls back on your shoulders, fingers threading into his hair and you let out a sigh.

You shudder when he presses a delicate touch between your legs. His hand, more calloused than you remember, gathers the curve of your inner thigh—but oh, his fingers still feel the same. The same timid swipe across your core, the same quiet hum of approval at the wetness you've gathered for him. Then, his free arm comes to wrap around your hips, pulling you closer as he presses his ear to your belly and slides two fingers inside you.

More skill, you notice. A pang of jealousy coils in your chest—ugly, unnecessary—but you don’t let him see. He kisses your stomach, and his eyelashes tickle your skin as he moves his hand up and down and his fingers hit the spot that has you moaning out his name. “As tight as I remember,” he hums, and it lances through you how infinitely hotter he has become.

You tug at his hair to make him look at you. Two gold gems drill right through you when you say, “Viktor.” A sigh, then, “I think I really need to fuck you now.”

He smiles sweetly and kisses your stomach again. “Then it seems we are on the same page.”

***

After a lot of fumbling, adjusting, and whispered curses, you finally found what worked. Viktor propped his knee up with a pillow, his other leg hooked under yours, grounding you together. His weight pressed you into the mattress—not crushing, just enough to make you feel him everywhere, warm and steady.

He rolled his hips into you, slow and measured, his arm caging you in as he kissed you through it. The heat of his breath spilled over your mouth, his lips parting just enough to let out the quietest of moans. And even in the haze of pleasure, you could see it—the determination tightening his brow, the concentrated press of his mouth against yours. He was on a mission, and that mission was you.

One arm wound snugly around your neck, cradling you into him, while his other hand worked between your legs, fingers slick and diligent. He timed each stroke with the snap of his hips, coaxing you closer, closer—

“Oh—Viktor—”

The sound of your voice shattered something in him. His rhythm stuttered, his forehead dropped to yours, but his fingers didn’t stop, circling, pressing, working you toward your peak. You dug your nails into his back, rocking up to meet him, and then—

It rushed over you like a cresting wave. Your thighs tensed around his waist, your breath caught, and the pleasure crested so high it stole all thought. He moaned softly, watching, feeling every pulse of your release around him.

His movements became less controlled, needier, a touch more frantic. He groaned against your shoulder, muttered something in a language you barely caught, and then followed you over the edge. His body trembled against yours, hips stuttering, breath shaky as he spilled into you, his lips still parted against your skin.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds in the room were your slowing breaths, the faint creak of the mattress, and the heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Then, Viktor finally lifted his head, flushed, sweat-dampened curls clinging to his forehead. He swallowed hard, his expression abashed but glowing with something warm and dazed.

“I hope that at this point, it is merely a formality,” he said, still breathless. “But… may I be so bold as to call you my girlfriend from now on?”

***

Your hips slot back together as if no time has passed. He fills you the same way, stretches you perfectly, and the expression he makes as he sinks in—God, it’s the same. Crushingly fucking gorgeous. Relief and bliss war on his face, his lips parting around a shaky groan as his hands seize your ass, pulling you down fully with a sharp slap of skin against skin.

He nuzzles into your neck, breath heavy and warm, licks up the column of your throat before sinking his teeth into your tendon. You gasp, moan, and pull at his hair, and the low, satisfied hum he gives in response shoots straight through you. His grip on your hips tightens, thumbs pressing into your skin as he guides you into motion, dragging you up before urging you back down. A faint roll of his own hips meets yours with every descent, his restraint slipping as the pleasure builds.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice—he’s changed. There’s more confidence in the way he moves, the way he takes from you, the way he talks to you. His voice is deeper, richer, words curling into your skin like smoke.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dark and approving. He drags a hand up your spine, settles it at your nape, tilting your head so you do look—so you watch the way he devours you with his eyes. “You take me so well, lásko.”

Heat spreads down to your toes. You try to bite back a whimper, but he sees it, hears it, and smirks. Smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Oh, he’s so much bolder now. And you’re falling apart because of it.

It starts with the way he tilts his hips just right, the way his grip on you tightens like he knows exactly where you need him. His free hand glides down your spine, tracing sweat-slick skin before slipping between your bodies. Two fingers find your clit, and your breath stutters. He circles once, twice—slow and deliberate—before pressing down, firm and unrelenting.

“Come for me,” he murmurs, voice like silk, like sin. He rewards you with a deep thrust, dragging a broken moan from your throat. “Let me feel you.”

You do—oh, God, you do. Pleasure overtakes you, crashing through your body in waves, pulling you under. Your thighs shake around him, your hands fly to his shoulders, nails sinking into muscle as you arch and shudder and keen his name. He groans, eyes dark and reverent as he watches you unravel in his lap.

Yet still, there are things that haven’t changed. The way his breath hitches when you clench around him. The way his moans turn desperate when you lean forward and suck at his throat. The way he starts to chase the pleasure once he gets close, gripping you tighter, rutting up into you with a fervour that makes your head spin.

And the way he comes—the same shudder, the same deep, gasping moan, the same way his arms crush you against his chest as if he could pull you inside him. His release spills deep, his body trembling beneath yours, and you realise it then, as you always have.

He is grateful for this. For you.

Your noses brush as he catches his breath, and his hands smooth over your back, grounding himself in the feel of you.

“Still with me?” you murmur, running your fingers through his damp curls.

Viktor exhales a breathless laugh, lids heavy, lips parted in something like awe. He nods, shifting just enough to press a lingering kiss to your collarbone. “Always.”

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #requests #🍒

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starmapz · 14 hours ago

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what are some of your favorite sukuna fics or authors?

hiii nonnie!! i'm super behind on my reading so i'm definitely gonna miss a few here but off the top of my head, here are some faves 🫶 please be sure to check out each author's rules :))

multichap fics:

controller by @yenayaps - modern!kuna x f!reader forbidden office romance, i love the dynamic between the reader and sukuna and the dynamic of the itadori family, they're both so well done and i adore her take on sukuna. i binged this so hard this weekend!! definitely check out her whole sukuna masterlist as well

pour it up by @madamechrissy - strip club owner!kuna x f!stripper!reader, i love sukuna's lowkey obsession with reader and eat up each of these chapters. the smut is so delicious

no. one party anthem by @indiewritesxoxo - childhood fwb!kuna x f!reader and rockstar!geto x f!reader, sukuna is so petty and so emotionally constipated and i love him for that <3 suguru is WAY too hot for his own good and i can't wait to see where indie takes this series!!

an uninformed narrative by @retiredteabag - stardew au!! i never knew i needed this tbh, i'm absolutely in love with adventurer!kuna already, he's so done with reader LOL 😭

mama, i'm in love with a criminal by @cinnamorollcrybaby - suuuuch an interesting series of snapshots of criminal!kuna and his relationship with reader, i adore the deep dive into his psyche and the ending!! oooh it's so good ((this also fits the jail!kuna ask i got last night))

jealousy, jealousy by @cinnamorollcrybaby - best friends to lovers smau series, i'm so down bad for this kuna tbh. i highly recommend checking out all of cinna's best friends to lovers series, they're phenomenal <33 (the suguru one has my whole heart)

oneshots/drabbles:

me and the devil by @yenayaps - modern sorcerer!sukuna x f!reader, i think about his transformation scene in this on the daily tbh

kunafamily by @kashverse - a series of drabbles surrounding papakuna, reader, and their hilarious little daughter. i'm seriously in love everything about them is so sweet

ex-convict!sukuna x academically burntout!reader masterlist by @soleilapproves - a series of oneshots and drabbles surrounding the pairing, i love the world sol's created with them <33

veni, vidi, vici by @emphistic - gladiator!kuna x princess!reader, need i say more?? i'm such a sucker for a historical au and this one is soooo good

knock (her) out by @screampied - boxer!kuna x f!reader x boxer!toji, this is fr some of the hottest smut i've ever read it makes me drool

waiting room by gojotojis (ao3) - bff!sukuna x reader, devastating angst 😭 left me sitting there with my jaw on the ground

coffee breath by @cuntyji - barista!kuna x reader, coffee shop au, light angst. so sweet and i adore the setting, i love the idea of sukuna getting a more calm life as a barista

pornstar!sukuna hcs by @webism - obsessed with abby's pornstar au tbh, i highly recommend checking the rest out too <3

first time? by @kamitv - virgin!kuna x reader smut college au oneshot, the characterization is soooo good here and the smut is HOT

so i know who i'm looking at by @fushitoru - ghostface!sukuna x reader, and it is HOT. absolutely delicious smut, plus ghostface and kuna?? it's chef's kiss

worst behavior by @kunareads - sukuna x f!reader, kuna looooves when reader's pissed and the smut is toooo good, i love dom!reader sm

i'm sure i'm missing more than i can count but off the top of my head these are some of my faves <33 please send these authors some love!!

#trish answers #anon #trish recs #trish recs - sukuna

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thealexchen · 2 days ago

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Why Dontnod's games feel original and inspired (and why Deck Nine's games don't)

So, I've talked at length about how Double Exposure feels much more like a corporate product than a playable piece of art entertainment [My initial thoughts on the DE trailer] [My thoughts on the early access paywall] [My thoughts on the weird marketing].

But now with the release of Lost Records, I feel like I have no choice but to confront the question: were any of Deck Nine's games truly original or inspired in any way? And honestly, I have to say no.

Objectively, I could say it's because Deck Nine literally has not produced any original IP's since their rebrand from Idol Minds in 2017. Their only narrative adventure games are all part of the LiS franchise. But even their most original game, True Colors, pretty obviously follows the first game's narrative formula (young woman with a superpower investigates a sudden disappearance/death in a small town with a dark secret, has two opposite sex love interests, learns about a twist villain, is nearly murdered, and goes through a psychological nightmare in the last episode) to a tee. But oh look, there's also a LARP!

But I believe there's more to it than that, because when I look at Dontnod's games, they are always inspired by other works. Life is Strange 1 plays very clear homage to Twin Peaks with the Pacific Northwest setting and Rachel Amber resembling Laura Palmer. Max Caulfield is named after the protagonist of The Catcher in the Rye, another novel about the fleeting innocence of childhood and superficiality of society. Life is Strange borrows tropes from Donnie Darko, Groundhog Day, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Stand By Me, and even Blue is The Warmest Color for its themes and plot points. Just take a look at its "Shout-out" page on TV Tropes. And the result is... something completely original, with riveting plot twists, memorable characters, and an ending that will make you cry.

This shouldn't make sense, right? You'd think this big soup of references would turn into an indistinguishable mess of cliches, but Life is Strange managed to be a synthesis of everything the writers loved and were inspired by, to become something completely new. Why? Because nobody had tried to take Twin Peaks, Donnie Darko, and The Catcher in the Rye and turn it into a video game before! And make it gay!

The point being, Dontnod consistently makes original material because they take creative risks. This is definitely not done lightly, since they still need to be a company that generates profit, but they still prioritize making art over selling out. Their stories feel inspired because they are inspired; when writers love what they're writing about, the result is a passion project that has loving, clever nods to all the works that are woven into it.

So perhaps a way to reword that first question is to then ask, "Have Deck Nine's games ever been inspired by anything?" And unfortunately, the answer is still no. Instead, they just copy what they hope will sell well. And a bland imitation for the sake of generating profit is never going to produce anything that feels original.

This takes me back to Lost Records, which is also clearly inspired by the same works: Twin Peaks, It: Chapter One, The Craft, The Blair Witch Project, The Goonies, Stand By Me. But again, no other game studio besides Dontnod has ever looked at these works and thought, "But what if it starred teenage lesbians instead?" Or, more specifically: "How do we capture the spirit of what made these media great and incorporate that into a new story for a new audience?" And those characters have so much thought and care poured into them too: while I've been disappointed that Double Exposure Max looks airbrushed to hell and back, I love that the Bloom & Rage girls have asymmetrical faces, acne, freckles, body hair, skin discoloration, and diverse body types. Double Exposure is marketed as nostalgia bait for fans, where Max is reduced to a prettied-up, polished-up, representation of nostalgia, not even her own character anymore, in a game that otherwise has no connection to the original. Her quips are reduced to "Hey! Remember our good ol', dad-joke cracking, dorky Max Caulfield??" and her grief is shoved aside for "Hey, look at that appealing new love interest! Because we knoooow y'all love your sapphic romance, right?"

By contrast, Lost Records has only been out for 10 days, but I already feel like the girls are some of the most memorable characters I've come across in gaming for the niche they fill. Swann seems like your typical Max-like dork, except she's also a movie buff and giddy about bugs, horror, and the paranormal; and has clearly been affected by her mother's fatphobic beliefs. Autumn is a level-headed leader who always stuck to her desire to help others, and her Blackness naturally informs her desire to feel valued and not cause trouble in a small, very white, conservative town. Nora intrigues me so much for going from a fun-loving rebel punk teen to a more gender-conforming, capitalist-leaning, influencer businesswoman. And Kat feels like an evolution of Chloe's cynicism, where her scrappy charm belies an almost unsettling obsession with the occult and a deep, tragic chasm of rage at having to confront her mortality far too young. They make sense. They feel carefully written, genuine, and like real people.

But most of all, Dontnod's games have never felt like products. In fact, most of their characters have historically gone against the grain of what traditionally "marketable" characters are. The first LiS took all these aforementioned stories about straight white men and chose to remix and retell it through the eyes of a young, queer, time-traveling girl instead. Tell Me Why is the first AAA game with a trans protagonist, and Tyler is voiced by a trans actor in all the language dubs. Lost Records decided that it would tell its story through four queer teenage girls, with women writers onboard, and fucking own it. As long as Dontnod keeps making games that stick to their creative integrity, I'll keep respecting their vision in whatever they decide to create next. Also, maybe I should finally watch Twin Peaks.

Thank you for reading!

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threefandomsinatrenchcoat · 2 days ago

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I think we should worry less about labels, in general. I get that they can be very helpful and comforting to some people and for very quickly communicating the gist of things, they're quite good.

When I want someone to just understand that I like multiple genders with a tendency to prefer one over another, "I'm bisexual" gets the job done a lot quicker than describing the whole situation, everyone I've ever found attractive and who out of these people I'd actually sleep with.

But I feel like we've gotten really caught up in this way of thinking that dictates that every unique human experience needs a name and it's really confusing and limiting.

If a straight person finds someone of the same gender/sex attractive just once, they're suddenly confused and rattled, because they don't know what this means for their identity. Are they still straight?

A lot of terms are from a time when sexuality was better understood than gender and thus, the definitions of terms were still based on a gender binary. Now that this isn't the case anymore, we're struggling to say who can and can't be [label].

Can trans men be lesbians? Where do intersex people fall in this? Are nonbinary people trans, because being trans is just being not cis, or can they not be trans, because being trans has to do with transitioning? But not all mtf and ftm trans people transition either, and they're still valid, so-

Do you see what I mean? The definitions are so imprecise and we keep arguing about them, which is fucking pointless. It's not getting us anywhere. We shouldn't be infighting at all, but especially not at a time like this, when many of us are in peril and we're all in this together.

Who cares about these fucking definitions, man? Does it matter if I'm aro or just have commitment issues so big I can't imagine having a relationship? The result is the same. I'm not interested in a romantic relationship. Why am I worrying about whether a label fits me rather than thinking about how this part of my identity affects my life? Does it matter if chopping my tits off makes me trans? The result is the same, I look and feel different.

I get wanting to find out more about yourself and wanting to put everything in neat little boxes and having tools and words to find people just like you to share your experiences, support and advice with, I truly do, but I feel like we're really pulling the noose tighter around our own necks by focusing more on labels than on the fact that we're all human, we all have things in common as well as differences, and we're all too complex to describe with a single word per aspect of our identity.

You shouldn’t have to be trans to get any sex characteristic-related surgery. It’s not a limited resource. Plenty of cis men get implants and cis women get breast reductions. From Colby Gordon today and Leslie Feinberg in Transgender Warriors (1996).

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rosenclaws · 1 day ago

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Heey! I think your requests are closed, but when you open them, do you think you could write about Logan (any variant) with a reader who has a bad relationship with food? I kinda need the comfort right now, I have to eat to survive, but I hardly ever want to eat, and when I do I feel guilty about it, specially if it's not something super healthy or low cal.

I think Logan would be a really good partner and show support, make sure his partner eats well or doesn't slip meals and even cooks for them :')

Hi! Absolutely I can, I understand what you're going through and I want to know that you're loved and you have my full support <3 I picked origins Logan for this, he just gives off the softest vibes and would be a completely supportive and sweet partner. It's a little short and I apologize but I hope it helps <33

warnings: eating disorder/bad relationship with food, please don't read if this would possibly trigger you

Logan could tell something was off from the moment he walked through the door. His stomach rumbled as he smelled whatever delicious meal you were making for dinner. As he entered the kitchen he saw you pulling a pan out of dinner. Lasagna, his favorite.

"Smells fucking amazing," He purrs as he wraps his hands around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

He still smells like pine needle and dirt from work. Normally he doesn't get back till way past dinner time but today was an easy day. How lucky he gets to eat dinner with the love of his life huh?

"Logan! You scared me." You huff as you gently push his arms off your body.

"Go clean up dinners almost ready." He frowns as you shoo him away.

Lately things have just felt off. You smiled and laughed like you always do but there were little things that just didn't feel right. Especially around meal times.

"Okay sweetheart, I'll be right back." Logan can't help but wonder what could possibly be wrong.

Are you sick? Is something bothering you? If so why wouldn't you tell him? Worries start to invade his thoughts. What could be going on that you can't even go to him about it? After a quick shower and a change of clothes he heads back to the kitchen. Only to see one plate of food sitting on the counter.

"I made it with the sauce you like, not the off brand one." You say with a smile but Logan's worry remains. He sits at the counter and takes the plate.

"Where's yours?" He asks. Your face falls for just a second. Anyone else would have missed it but not Logan. Not when it comes to you.

"Not hungry." You try and play it off, pushing the plate closer but Logan grabs your wrist.

"Logan, I had a big lunch. I'll eat later." You try and tug out of Logan's grip but he remains firm. Never enough to hurt you but enough to keep you there. To keep you from running away.

"I don't believe you. In fact, I've barely seen you eat anything in the last couple months."

The memories come flooding back. He's seen you eat, but its never much and it's always healthy. Shame starts to creep into his bones as he realizes he's failed to put the pieces together. All this time.

"Please sweetheart, whatever is going on you can tell me." Tears start to well up in your eyes as Logan speaks.

You never meant for him to find out. You thought you could handle this on your own. You had been so careful and eat just enough so that he never caught on. But the truth is you're exhausted. Food is nothing more that a means to survive. Everyday you force yourself to eat just enough and no more. Its been exhausting. Especially if the food you eat is too many calories or just plain unhealthy.

Logan almost jumps across the counter the moment he sees the tears, fearing the worst. He abandons his dinner in favor of wrapping you in his arms on the couch. Cooing softly as you cry and explain everything to him. He doesn't say a word, he just listens. Rubbing your back and letting you soak his shirt with tears.

When you're done you prepare for the worst. What if Logan leaves? I mean it would certainly be easier for him to not have to deal with. All of this. But he doesn't. With gentle hands he cups your face and dries your tears.

"I'm so sorry." He mumbles. Sorry that he didn't notice sooner and sorry you've been carrying this for so long.

"Are you mad?" You ask quietly.

"No, of course not." Logan presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Listen honey, this isn't healthy." He knows that you know that but its not as easy as just a flip of a switch to change habits that had been built for years.

"I'm going to be with you every step of the way alright?" He says, tilting your head up so you can look him in the eyes. He wants you to know that he truly means every word.

"Okay," Logan pulls you into a tight hug, whispering sweet words over and over. He wishes he could take all your pain away in an instant. He'd bear it for you without even asking, but he can't.

But he stays true to his promise. Logan is there when you need him, to remind you to eat and taking it upon himself to make meals for you and with you. Some days were harder than others but Logan carried the weight you couldn't.

Things still aren't easy, but with Logan by your side you think you might be able to do anything.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader

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lucysarah-c · 19 hours ago

Text

Mounting Spring Ch. 9

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21. Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.)

Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it.

From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another.

Masterlist to the previous parts!

Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there!

“So, what’s the plan?” Hange asked as they walked down the street. With each step they took, the houses grew larger, the gates taller, the fences grander—everything seemed to increase in size and value the deeper they went. “You sneak through a window now that the sun’s setting and kidnap the cat?”

Levi didn’t break stride as the street sloped downward, though he shot Hange a frown. “We’re not kidnapping anything. I sent a cadet earlier to inform them I’d be picking up the animal.”

A loud hum of understanding filled the night as they continued walking, hands tucked into their pockets. But Hange still didn’t seem convinced.

“You sure about this?”

“About what?”

Hange gave a quick glance around before answering. “These neighborhoods are private.”

“And?”

“Let’s just say the people who live in places like this and… us? We’ve never exactly been longtime acquaintances.” Hange’s tone carried the weight of an unspoken warning, as if preparing for the worst.

But Levi couldn’t care less. Maybe it was the inner thug in him, the part that never gave a damn about the rich, the nobility, the king—or authority in general. This place reeked of something foreign, something he didn’t belong to. But like a lion crossing an open field, he walked through it like it was his to take. The Scouts held power now, but that wasn’t why he moved with such unwavering confidence. Levi was Levi, and even before the Scouts had led an uprising, he had been humanity’s strongest. Strength gives you a certainty in your actions that nothing else can. Especially when they reached the front door.

Hange, either fearing the worst or just aware of Levi’s absolute lack of social grace, wisely kept quiet.

The staff member who answered the gates frowned—not just in confusion, but perhaps in disgust. His gaze landed on the Wings of Freedom insignia on their uniforms alarmingly fast.

“Sir.”

“I came for the cat,” Levi said, blunt as ever.

The man’s expression barely shifted. “I thought we informed the cadet that if you came, you should use the back entrance.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed. He had no problem using the service entrance. But they’d received a mere MP cadet—barely fifteen years old—at their pristine front gates, and now he was supposed to go around the back like some beggar? Not a fucking chance.

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

The man—a butler? Or something like that. I don’t fucking know, Levi thought—stepped aside reluctantly, extending a stiff hand toward the entrance.

Once inside, Hange took a moment to admire the downtown manor, pressing their lips together, nodding slowly in appreciation of the place’s elegance. Levi, however, wasn’t impressed. He was already pissed off—because of Zackly, because of the MPs, because of the damn door. His hands remained in his pockets, deep-set eyes locked onto the stairs with not even a hint of friendliness.

“The cat?” His voice cut through the tension, sharp and impatient. If he’d given them advance notice, then they should have been ready by now.

The butler barely reacted. “Please, wait here. The family is busy.”

Levi let the silence stretch, his patience thinner than ever. “I sent someone over four hours ago.”

Hange, sensing the storm brewing in him, reached out, placing a cautious hand on his shoulder. Their expression twisted into an uneasy grimace, a silent plea.

‘Let’s not make this harder.’

Levi had barely registered Hange’s silent plea when the muffled sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the grand hall. A moment later, a flustered servant appeared, carrying a wooden box with small air holes carved into its sides. The box wobbled precariously in his grip—not because it was heavy, but because a tiny pair of hands were clawing at it with desperate strength.

“Clauwy! Nooo!! Clauwy!!!”

The voice was shrill and thick with tears, and it belonged to a small, wild-haired girl stumbling after the servant in a fit of heartbreak. Her face was blotchy from crying, her little legs moving as fast as they could, though they barely kept up. She yanked at the box, nearly knocking it from the man’s grasp, her tiny fingers clinging like her life depended on it.

“Miss, please—” The servant tried to wrestle the box from her grip, his expression strained. It was clear he was struggling, not because she was particularly strong, but because she was the boss’s daughter—and he couldn't exactly shove her off.

Levi watched the scene unfold, eyebrows knitting together as the girl let out another wail, “Clauwy!!!”

‘Clauwy?’ He blinked.

Hange was biting their lip, either to keep from laughing or from making things worse. The servant finally managed to pry the girl’s fingers off, stumbling forward as he hastily presented Levi with the box. “Here, sir. The animal is inside. Everything needed and requested is included.”

Levi barely had time to grip the box before the little girl let out another sob and jumped, arms stretching toward it in a frantic attempt to snatch it back. Her high pitched scream made Hange go from entertainment to grimace in pain as the loud cry hurted the adult’s ears. LEvi clenched his teeth bearing himself to it but Hange whispered “Dear Sheena…” as if this was everything the commander needed to recall why they never had kids.

“Nooo, Clauwy!!” she howled, tiny hands grasping at the air. “Y/N is gonna never come back if Clauwy isn’t here!!”

At that, Levi stiffened. His sharp gaze flicked down to the girl, eyes narrowing slightly.

‘Y/N’s little sister.’

That was the only explanation.

The messy hair, the same teary eyes, the way her tiny fists balled up in frustration—it wasn’t hard to see the resemblance.

Levi exhaled quietly, shifting his stance. His grip on the box relaxed just a fraction as he crouched down, leveling himself with the child. She sniffled loudly, cheeks stained with tears, little lips quivering. The tears were not watery work as some kids did to get what they wanted, she was loudly and messily crying her eyes off.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what the hell he was supposed to say.

But then, in a rare, softened tone, he spoke.

“Hey.”

The girl hiccupped, still glaring up at him with wet, accusing eyes.

Levi tilted his head slightly, nodding toward the box. “I’m taking him to Y/N. You don’t have to cry.”

The little girl’s breath hitched. Her brows knitted together, unsure whether to believe him. “Pwomise?”

Levi nodded once. “Promise.”

She sniffled again, rubbing at her puffy eyes with tiny fists. The violent wailing had subsided into shaky breaths, though doubt still lingered in her expression. "You… with Y/N?" she murmured, her voice small and filled with innocent curiosity.

Levi gave a short nod. "Yeah. She's with me."

Before he had time to react, the girl threw her arms around his jacket, clinging to him like a koala.

"I wanna be with Y/N!" she insisted, her tiny fists gripping the fabric tightly. She was so small that she barely weighed anything, but she nearly knocked him off balance in her desperation.

Levi instinctively steadied her with his free hand, his body tensing. "No, no. You’ve got your parents." He tried to pry her off, one hand awkwardly holding her in place to keep her from slipping. His voice carried an edge of unease—like this wasn’t the first time a child had latched onto him, looking for something he wasn’t sure how to give.

It all made sense when a commanding voice cut through the hallway.

"MAEVE!"

Levi turned his head, eyes narrowing at the elegantly dressed woman approaching from the corridor. She carried herself with an air of superiority, her gaze sharp, cold, and—more than anything—filled with contempt. A contempt Levi could barely understand but somehow reciprocated on instinct.

"Come here, this instant."

Maeve, still clinging to Levi as if he were her last lifeline, buried her tear-streaked face against his chest in fear.

Levi wasn't holding her back, but he wasn’t pushing her away either. A part of him reasoned it wasn’t his place to interfere with another’s parenting. Another part—something older, instinctual—bristled at the fear in the little girl’s eyes.

"Mae," the woman’s voice dropped lower, dangerously even, though the authority in it never wavered. "Do not make me come over there."

Levi remained in his crouch, though he wished he weren’t. Not because she intimidated him and neither was it that his height was towering—far from it—but because he wasn’t about to be ordered around like a misbehaving child.

She turned her glare on him. "You got what you came for. Don’t touch my daughter, and get out."

His voice was calm, but firm. “I’m married to your daughter.”

He let the words sink in. He knew the comment was about Maeve, but he wanted to remind her why he was here. “And you’re living in this house thanks to that. So next time, have the decency to receive me at the front door. And maybe bring a tea set."

The silence that followed felt like a battlefield.

The woman clenched her jaw, her pride clearly wounded. Levi, on the other hand, was holding back the urge to tell her a few things that would make the situation irreparable.

Eventually, the little girl loosened her grip just slightly, uncertainty still clouding her face, but her wobbly legs found the floor again. She pouted up at Levi. "Y/N...?"

Levi blinked. The words were mumbled and choked between sobs, but he caught enough of them to piece together what she meant.

“You draw too? Like your sister?” he asked.

The little girl nodded hesitantly.

He exhaled and adjusted the box under his arm. "Why don’t you give your drawings to your grandmother? She has my address. I bet Y/N will love them."

The idea seemed to ease something in her little mind. Her expression brightened just slightly—a wobbly, tear-stained smile forming.

"Okay..."

Then, as if remembering something urgent, she gasped and reached for the box. Levi lowered it just enough for her to hold it against her tiny chest, where she planted an exaggerated kiss on the top.

“Bye-bye, Clauwy,” she sniffled, waving at the wooden crate as if the cat inside could see her.

She then stepped back, allowing a nearby servant—who was no doubt assigned to escort her away without much fuss—to gently guide her down the hall.

With only adults left in the room, the woman stepped closer, lowering her voice to a venomous whisper. "Do not drag my daughters into this."

Levi barely batted an eye as he stood, shifting the box under his arm. He spat back, just as low, "Then don’t bring your daughter into this."

—

By the time they were making their way down the cobblestone streets, Hange finally broke the silence with a drawl of pure sarcasm. "Your in-laws adore you."

Levi scoffed, adjusting his grip on the box. "They fucking should. They’re out of jail thanks to me."

Hange hummed, amused. "Ahh, the foundation of every strong family bond."

They walked in silence for a few moments before Hange, who had been keeping an eye on the cargo, squinted. "Uh… Levi?"

"What?" Levi barely glanced at them.

"The box is leaking something."

Levi stopped dead in his tracks. "What."

His head snapped down, and sure enough, a suspiciously watery liquid was seeping through the bottom of the wooden crate. With a sharp sigh, he lifted it slightly, peering through the holes.

Inside, a pair of terrified cat eyes stared back at him—so wide, so frozen in fear, that it was almost comical.

Levi’s nose wrinkled. "Oh, for fuck’s sake."

Hange took a cautious step back. "Is that—?"

"The damn thing pissed itself." Levi scowled, glaring at the cat. "Tch. It’s gonna be fine, you idiot. Don’t shit yourself too."

Hange let out an obnoxious cackle. "That’s it! Use your daddy skills on the cat!"

Levi shot them a deadly glare. "Who do you think I am? Erwin?"

That only made Hange laugh harder.

—

Perhaps the unconscious side of his mind knew better than he did—it could foretell a prophecy and a future, much like some mystical oracle. At first, Levi wondered why he was wasting the precious little time he had left for sleep on dreaming pointless memories. But as soon as he recovered a bit of consciousness, he felt something heavy and warm on top of him. Blinking rapidly, trying to knock some sense into himself, the first thing that greeted him was a huge fur ball sprawled out like a bum on his chest, purring loudly.

It was one of those rare occasions when Levi had decided he needed to sleep more than just two or three hours, rather than curling over his desk or slumping in his chair. The migraine he suffered, the particular sluggish state of the previous day, and his lingering intoxication all signaled that this was one of those times when he needed to try for a normal night’s sleep. Usually he would use his bed, but his bed was, as usual, occupied by the new member of the household. So he rearranged one of the couch cushions, changed his uniform, and called it a day—even though “calling it a day” for him meant staring at the ceiling for a good couple of hours. On other occasions, he might have masturbated and taken a warm shower to help induce sleepiness; however, Y/N wanted to shower after him. The thought of him jerking off on a couch whose cover he couldn’t change, right next to the room where she slept, wasn’t very arousing.

The brownish-grey short blanket that barely covered his hips—originally meant for expeditions—hung loosely over him as he felt that the night was too warm for his taste. Moreover, the big animal on top of him served as a living pillow, radiating an inviting warmth that mingled with the humid air.

“Tch,” Levi cursed as he abruptly woke up. “You’re supposed to be sleeping with your owner, not me.”

But the cat, as if interpreting any suggestion from Levi as a personal challenge, stretched upward—making Levi grimace as though suddenly the animal weighs 500 tons, its teeny tiny paws seeming to carry an impossible burden. Then it knocked its head against Levi’s face and curled up even closer.

“No,” Levi groaned, only for the cat to start licking his face with its paper-thin, sandpapery tongue. “For fuck’s sake, not with the tongue you use to clean your ass,” he barked, moving his head away in disgust. If falling asleep was already a struggle with a huge fur ball curled around his head purring like a machine, it wasn’t going to become any easier.

The paper-thin white curtains waged a constant battle against the early morning sun. For the past month, the weather had undergone an unstoppable change—the temperatures rising even at night. The chimney, where she had once warmed herself on the night she arrived, had been cleaned and relegated to a storage space where, on occasion, a small fire was kindled to boil water for Levi’s late-night tea. The bedroom, which had seemed foreign to her on the first night, had now been completely conquered, making it hard to sleep past a certain hour. Each day, the sun filtered in a little earlier, illuminating the entire space with a relentless glow.

Restlessly contorting on the bed, she tried to tug the blanket over her head to escape the scorching early summer sun. But it did little to help—not only were Levi’s blankets short and itchy, but breathing beneath the cover was unbearably warm. The fact that Levi had never noticed the curtains didn’t actually cover anything betrayed either his hectic early schedule or the fact that he rarely slept in that room. Waking up hungry was the first thing she noticed, and that realization motivated her to leave the bed.

Usually, she enjoyed the morning—though Levi hardly considered anything past 8 a.m. as truly morning. Even after living there for an entire month, the place still didn’t feel like hers, especially when Levi was around. Sharing the four walls with him made her feel self-conscious, as if she were merely a guest staying over for a short visit, forced to display her best behavior and wear her finest clothes. It made her wonder if this was something that couples eventually got used to. When he left, she was usually asleep; when he returned, she was already dressed, her hair done, and presentable. Perhaps it was because her mother had always maintained a polished appearance around the house, or maybe it was due to the lack of true intimacy in their relationship—but when he wasn’t around, she felt as though the place belonged entirely to her.

Without giving a second thought, she crawled out of the bed and opened the bedroom door. That small act already struck her as odd, making her frown. Levi had never closed the door when she was inside, and neither did she; for her, it still felt like a loss of control over her personal space. There was little time to rationalize this sentiment, however, as a squeak of surprise mixed with delight echoed through the chambers.

“Aww! Good morning, sleepy beauty!”

Y/N stood frozen as she locked eyes with the brunette seated at Levi’s desk. Instantly, she tried to wrap her arms around herself—her whitish, slightly translucent camisole leaving little to the imagination, and she feared the worst. But before she could even reconsider enclosing herself back in the bedroom, Hange rose and walked over to her. “I’ve been meaning to finally meet you!” the newcomer exclaimed.

The hug was unexpected but a welcome surprise. It took her a little while to process it before she hugged back, delighted to receive such a clear expression of affection. Only to add to the surprise, Hange swayed slightly to the side, tightening the embrace and eliciting a sincere chuckle from the omega girl. For her, the random stranger who had been enjoying breakfast with her newly proclaimed husband was a delightful presence. As for Levi, he could see—through his deadpan expression—how Hange savored the aroma of her hair, smirking cheekily as if the low-class alpha had just won some trivial inner competition.

When they parted, Hange rested their hands on her upper arms. “You can call me Hange—I’m Levi’s bestie, even if shortie denies it.”

“Ah,” she said, smiling in a slightly confused yet relieved manner, as if her life were slowly returning to normal. Now she could go out; she had met the important people in her husband’s life. What should have been the usual “Nice to—” was cut short when Hange added, “I’m also the commander, but don’t take it too seriously,” as if it were nothing. The remark immediately silenced any response she might have offered, forcing her to press her lips together in shock and blush heavily as she looked down at her pajamas and bare feet.

“I’m so sorry,” she hesitated, but Hange laughed it off.

“Do not worry, you look great!” they insisted. “I swear, you’re a beauty—a cutie and a beauty.” The comment made her blush even more, especially when Hange pinched one of her cheeks. “Right, Levi, isn’t she a cutie?”

‘That was absolutely unnecessary and uncalled for,’ Levi thought immediately, trying not to choke on the tea he was drinking at the unexpected turn of conversation. He coughed a bit as the liquid reacted to the shock; he had not paid attention until now that his so-called best friend had decided to put him in the spotlight. His eyes silently conveyed his inner exclamation of “What the fuck, dude? That was UNNECESSARY,” but Hange maintained a sassy, unaffected grimace.

Almost breathless, Levi groaned a bit, “Yeah,” as if the words had been forced out of him at gunpoint rather than being genuine. Or so it seemed to her. Y/N admired the scene first with thankfulness and hope, then with confusion, and finally with a resigned sense of broken hope. ‘He truly can’t even stand me,’ she thought.

For Levi, the cough that had erupted initially was forced out, stretching his moment of embarrassment before he resumed drinking his tea to hide his subtle blush. He wasn’t one to give compliments—not because he didn’t feel them, but because he wasn’t good with them. Being thrust into the spotlight and forced to offer a compliment only revealed his best: a feigned indifference.

Hange, who thought it was a good occasion to coax the Captain into a sweet gesture, had left the room heavy with uneasiness. “Let’s have breakfast, shall we?” the brunette said, placing a hand behind Y/N’s back and gently guiding her toward the desk. But she refused.

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother during a meeting, sir,” she explained, already resolving that from now on she would check before opening the door. Perhaps, now that she wasn’t enclosed, Levi could return to his usual routine of holding meetings at his place—or so she guessed, for since her arrival, neither of them had ever experienced a normal routine.

“It’s Hange,” they insisted, “and we’re not having a meeting—we’re just having breakfast. Well… more like eating your cookies, but sure.”

That slowly convinced her to follow them further into the room, although there wasn’t much further to go since the space was rather small.

“Her cookies?” Levi asked casually. “I pay for those.”

“If that’s the case, they’re my cookies—I pay the salary that you use to pay for the cookies,” Hange retorted sarcastically as they sat down.

“I thought you said you didn’t choose salaries. Give me a fucking raise then.”

Levi exhaled sharply through his nose as he leaned back in his chair, watching Hange shamelessly steal another cookie from the tin. He wasn’t sure what irritated him more—the way Hange ate with no remorse or the fact that he had been roped into this conversation in the first place.

Y/N, still blushing from the earlier interaction, carefully sat down at the table. She reached for a slice of bread, but her mind was already elsewhere—on the trip ahead.

“Eat quickly,” Levi told her, tone clipped. “We’re leaving for Trost soon. I was about to wake you up, anyway.”

Y/N blinked in surprise. “Oh. This early?”

Levi took a sip of his tea.’God… I don’t actually believe in you but… bless me patience,��

Hange chuckled. “You’re acting like we’re on some mission, Levi. Trost isn’t going anywhere.”

Levi shot them a tired glare ‘Whose side are you?’ He silently asked as if he needed someone to back him up for once since his life had been turned upside down. Then he turned back to Y/N. “So eat and get ready. We need to leave soon.”

Y/N nodded, already thinking ahead. She had never been to Trost before, but she knew it was much livelier than their usual surroundings—filled with markets, shops, and well-dressed people going about their daily lives. For the first time in a long while, she would be in a real city, not just cooped up in Levi’s quarters or wandering the military compound.

Excitement fluttered in her chest. “I’ll be quick. I just need to get dressed.” She silently clapped her hands in quite excitement “I’ll wear that floral dress I’ve been saving,”

As she spoke, Levi could almost see and hear everything that was about to unfold before his eyes in the middle of the city. “What’s wrong with your usual dresses?”

She frowned. “I want to wear something nice for the trip.”

His expression didn’t change, but his gaze sharpened slightly. “There’s no need for that. Just wear something simple.”

“But—”

“It’s better if we don’t draw attention.”

Her excitement flickered, her shoulders tensing. “We’re going to a city, not sneaking around like criminals.”

Levi had a bad habit of keeping things to himself and making little to no effort to explain the reasons behind his decisions. This habit made her bite her inner cheek in annoyance; he simply ordered around as if they were following a strict chain of command rather than working together on this arrangement. “Exactly. A city means more people, more eyes, and more chances for someone to be an issue. You already stand out enough as it is. There's no need to make it worse.”

Y/N stiffened. She wasn’t sure what annoyed her more—the implication that she was some sort of problem or the fact that he was, yet again, making decisions for her. “I just want to look nice.”

“You already are,” he said. In his mind, he was protecting her—for her, he was controlling every step she took as if she were a toddler. “I don’t want to deal with people staring at us.”

‘First the room, then his squad, now this. Who are you hiding me from?’ Her mind began to construct ideas, though many were based on little more than a shaky foundation. She felt like a prisoner of his relentless attempts to keep her undercover.

Her fingers curled into her lap. “So what? I’m supposed to walk around looking dull just because you don’t want to be bothered?”

“Not dull,” he corrected. “Just —

Y/N huffed, frustration bubbling in her chest. She wanted to argue—to snap back that she didn’t need him controlling what she wore. At the same time, she wanted her space to be respected. ‘Like it or not, I’m your wife! Give me ONE chance to feel like I’m not a prisoner,’ she thought. But before she could say anything, Hange clapped their hands together, breaking the tension.

“Well! I say we leave a little later then,” Hange announced cheerfully. “No need to rush. Let her get ready how she wants. She’ll look gorgeous no matter what, right?” They shot Levi a pointed look.

Levi exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly not pleased and not in the mood to argue further. He just grunted in response.

‘Don't listen to me—I was born yesterday. In fact, I'm stupid,’ Levi thought, for him the outcome was as clear as possible. ‘Don't come back pouting at me when you realize I was damn right.’

Y/N turned to Hange, eyebrows raised. “Wait… you’re coming?”

Hange tilted their head. “Of course I am! What, did you think you and Levi were just going on a little honeymoon getaway?” They wiggled their eyebrows playfully before taking another bite of a cookie.

Y/N felt her face heat up again. “No, I just—”

“We’re going for business,” Hange reminded her with a smirk. “In case you forgot, there’s a whole reason behind this trip, and it’s not sightseeing.”

Her lips parted slightly in realization. Right. Of course. Business. Glancing at Levi as waiting for some guidance. He didn’t look at her, just continued drinking his tea as if the whole argument hadn’t happened.

Y/N hurried excitedly into the room, and as soon as she was out of the chambers, Hange bent over the desk to whisper to the Captain, “Don’t be so constipated—let her have this.”

Levi clenched his teeth. The day before yesterday’s little tantrum about going to Trost, and now this. He wasn’t one to take being disrespected in his decisions lightly. “I know what I’m doing,” he whispered back, his tone biting with each word.

“And what are you doing?” the commander retorted, raising a single eyebrow with a grimace of confusion mixed with exasperation. “Being a bitch?”

Like a tired mother who might exclaim, “I’d like to see all of you the day I die!” Levi raised his hands in the air, pressed his lips together, and stood up—silently declaring that he was going to wait and see, wait and see how right he was.

“By the way,” Hange added with their mouth full, “I preferred it when she didn’t stink to you.”

“Could you try not to hit on my wife for five fucking minutes?” he said, exhausted, only to win a cheeky chuckle from the brunette.

He was ready—ready a long while ago. A casual white shirt, dark trousers, knee-high boots, sleeves rolled up. Deep breath in, deep breath out. His grey eyes stared at the abyss before he loudly exclaimed, “I’m leaving in THREE, TWO—”

”I’M READY!” Y/N adjusted the wide-brimmed hat over her head, making sure it sat just right before stepping out of the bathroom. The sunflower dress she had chosen was light and airy, perfect for the warm weather, and the soft fabric swayed gently around her knees as she moved. She felt… nice. Presentable. Even a little excited.

Levi was already at the door, checking the lock one last time to make sure the cat wouldn’t escape while they were gone. His back was turned to her, but she still lifted her chin slightly, expecting something. A comment, maybe. Not a compliment—he was terrible at those—but at least some acknowledgment.

Levi turned around, his eyes flicking over her in a quick assessment.

And that was when it hit him. ‘Great. Just fucking great. She looks freaking cute, and I’m forced to have sharper senses than when I was trying not to get killed by that monkey’s rocks.’

The damn dress, the stupid hat, the way the sunlight hit her just right—he could already feel the stares they were bound to attract. He could almost hear Hange’s teasing and see the way people would gape. And worst of all, he knew she was waiting for a reaction. He wasn’t stupid; he could see in her expectant eyes that she was standing up straight, her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze innocent yet hopeful. Or perhaps he was a little stupid, because when cornered to say something nice, his best option was to play dead and freeze like a possum.

“Finally,” he muttered, turning back to the lock as if her entire effort had gone unnoticed.

Y/N’s shoulders dropped slightly, her excitement dimming at his lack of response. ‘That’s it?’ Her disappointment was so clear as she pouted while he pushed open the door, stepping outside without even sparing her a second glance. She bent down to press a kiss on the cat’s head and whispered, “Love ya, baby.”

By the time she followed him out, he was already locking the office behind them, the keys jingling as he secured every bolt.

“You should wear different shoes,” he said without looking up.

Y/N glanced down at her feet. The shoes in question were a delicate pair of heeled sandals, the only ones that really matched her outfit. “They’re fine,” she argued.

“It’s a long trip,” he countered. “You’re gonna regret it.”

She huffed. “I’ll be fine.”

Levi shot her a look, unimpressed. He could already picture it—halfway through the day, she’d be complaining about sore feet, and he’d be the one stuck dealing with it. But if she wanted to be stubborn about it, fine. He wasn’t going to argue over a pair of shoes.

“Suit yourself,” he muttered, stepping down onto the corridor.

They barely made it a few steps before a group of cadets passed by, chatting among themselves. One of them, recognizing Y/N, perked up immediately.

“Good morning, ma’am!” a young soldier greeted with a bright smile. Then they performed the military salute, moving stiffly with the sides of their boots clacking against each other in the process. “Sir,”

Y/N, caught off guard but pleased, smiled back just as enthusiastically. “Oh! Good morning!”

The cadets all nodded in respect before continuing on their way, but Y/N’s cheerful response seemed to echo in Levi’s ears like a goddamn church bell.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing his temple as he walked beside her. “Tch. You don’t have to greet every damn person you see.”

She shot him a side glance, amused. “They greeted me first. Should I have ignored them?”

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

Levi didn’t answer. He just kept walking, already dreading how long this trip was going to feel.

At the front doors of the barracks, a group of cadets waited with varying degrees of patience. Jean paced back and forth, arms crossed, his brows furrowed as he glanced toward the office.

"What the hell is taking them so long?" he grumbled.

Mikasa, standing beside him with her usual deadpan expression, shrugged slightly. "Maybe she got lost in the corridors," she suggested.

"Lost?" Jean snorted. "It’s a damn building, not a maze."

"She’s new here?" Armin pointed out as if it was obvious, adjusting his collar.

Jean hesitated before scoffing. "Well, yes, but—"

"There you go," Mikasa cut in.

Before Jean could argue, Sasha suddenly clapped her hands together, her eyes practically sparkling. "Guys, focus," she whispered excitedly. "This is a golden opportunity!"

Jean, Connie, and Sasha all exchanged knowing looks, their grins spreading mischievously.

Eren, standing a little behind them, narrowed his eyes. "What’s a golden opportunity?"

Connie immediately pulled him into a huddle, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Armin and Mikasa were dragged in next, forming a tight circle like a football team plotting their next big play.

Jean took the lead, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Alright, listen up. Captain Levi is well-known in Trost."

"No kidding," Armin muttered.

"Shh!" Jean hushed him. "The point is, he's famous, but he never—never—pays attention to street vendors, food stalls, or anything fun."

Sasha gasped dramatically. "A tragedy, truly."

"But!" Jean continued, raising a finger. "The people of Trost will definitely be eager to pamper his new wife." He leaned in closer, voice dripping with excitement. "Which means—"

"Free food!" Sasha finished, eyes gleaming.

"Free stuff," Connie corrected, practically bouncing on his feet. "I bet we could score more than just food."

"Like what? Socks?" Eren asked, raising a skeptical brow.

"Yes, Eren, socks," Connie said, rolling his eyes. "And maybe some new boots, a hat, a nice bottle of whiskey—who knows?"

Jean nodded. "All we gotta do is make sure Y/N walks near the best vendors and looks interested. The rest will handle itself."

Sasha pumped her fist. "We need to make her look hungry! I can do that!"

"You are always hungry," Mikasa pointed out flatly.

Sasha beamed. "Exactly! I’ll be her coach!"

Armin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is ridiculous."

"No, this is genius," Connie corrected. "Think about it! Levi would never let us go around sampling food like tourists, but if it’s for his wife?" He smirked. "He’d look like a jerk if he stopped it."

Eren groaned. "I can’t believe I’m listening to this."

Jean smirked, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "That’s because you know it’s a solid plan."

Armin exhaled, shaking his head. "You do realize there’s a possibility Levi will find out and murder us all, right?"

A brief silence followed.

Then Sasha shrugged. "Worth it."

Jean clapped his hands together. "Alright, team! Stick to the plan. Act natural, but not too natural."

Connie pointed dramatically toward the office. "Operation 'Use the Captain’s Wife to Score Free Stuff' is a go!"

And with that, the squad dispersed, their grins full of anticipation as they awaited Y/N’s arrival.

“Y/N!” The enthusiastic cheer of her name echoed down the training ground, momentarily confusing her, but she quickly adapted. Her happiness for the day immediately matched that of the cadets as she hurried up to meet them.

“Hi, sweeties,” she called out, rushing forward to hug the squad members—except for Eren, who remained distant despite her approach. “Good morning,” she added warmly.

Meanwhile, Levi stayed behind, slowly approaching the weathered wooden cart they were about to take. He made no haste to join the others, instead raising a silent eyebrow at the suspicious attitude that seemed to hang in the air. However, Hange reached the cart first and whispered to the team, “Way less, guys, way less.” It was as if the six teenagers and the commander shared one single brain cell, all arriving at the same conclusion for the trip, their plan guided by the voice of experience.

“The cat isn’t coming?” Mikasa asked, her tone almost disappointed. That question made Y/N’s eyes sparkle with a newfound idea; her mouth opened as she looked back at Levi, but before she could even say anything, he interjected firmly:

“Do not even dream of it.”

Pouting immediately as her expression changed, she retorted, “I didn’t say anything!”

“The answer is still no,”

“Why are we taking the cart? We’d go ten times faster on horseback,” Eren pointed out, sparking a domino effect as the rest of the squad immediately jumped in with similar complaints.

“Yeah, why not just ride?”

“It’d be way quicker.”

“Are we seriously taking the slowest option?”

Y/N hesitated, shifting on her feet as the sudden attention made her stomach twist. “I… I don’t know how to ride,” she admitted, her voice quiet, shame creeping in as she noticed how the squad tried—really tried—to force understanding smiles.

“I—I could ride with you,” Jean blurted, his excitement so obvious it practically scented the air.

Levi, who had been silent up until now, slowly turned to give him a long, deadpan stare. No words. No expression. Just the weight of his gaze pressing down like a boulder.

Jean visibly deflated. “Or… maybe not,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he quickly took it back, feeling the unspoken threat in the older Alpha’s presence.

The ride to Trost was, thankfully, uneventful. The cart rumbled over uneven stone paths, the steady clatter of hooves filling the otherwise quiet morning. The cadets, in contrast, were anything but quiet. They chatted excitedly, cracking jokes and speculating about what they would do once they arrived. Y/N soaked up the energy, enjoying their excitement, though Levi, sitting beside her with arms crossed, remained as unimpressed as ever.

By the time they reached the outskirts of Trost, the sun was already climbing high, casting long shadows over the busy streets. The closer they got to the heart of the city, the more people crowded the roads, bustling about their business. Levi pulled the cart to a stop near the entrance to the inner district, hopping off with practiced ease before turning to the group.

“We’ll be meeting back here before sundown,” he announced, his sharp gaze sweeping over the cadets. “That gives you plenty of time to do whatever it is you want. You’re old enough to manage that much.”

Jean pumped a fist into the air, grinning. “Hell yeah, free roam.”

Armin sighed dramatically. “This is a mistake. they are not responsible enough for this.”

“Don’t worry, Armin, I’ll supervise,” Connie smirked. But Armin glanced back at the other beta, his brows knitting together, unable to hide the fact that his words had been anything but reassuring.

Levi, ignoring them, turned to Y/N. “You stick to me.”

The words hit her like a slap. She blinked, stunned for a second, then frowned deeply. “What?”

He didn’t even spare her a glance as he tightened the straps on his gear. “You heard me.”

But to his surprise, the cadets follow him closely behind. “What?”

But to his surprise, the cadets followed closely behind. Too closely.

“What?” Levi’s narrowed gaze flicked back at them.

“Oh, we just—” Sasha stuttered, visibly scrambling for a decent excuse. “We want to spend time with you, Cap!”

Hange did a full-face palm, exhaling loudly. As if anything would have been more convincing than that.

“Aye, aye, we’re all headed in the same direction, so let’s stick together,” the commander cut in, plastering on a way-too-obviously fake cheerful smile as they pushed the cadets forward.

Y/N, on the other hand, stood frozen for a moment, feeling irritation simmer under her skin. They got to wander freely, but she had to stick by his side like a lost child? “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath as she stomped after him.

Levi didn’t react. He didn’t have to.

As the not-so-happy couple grumbled their way ahead, the rest of the squad lagged a few steps behind. Hange leaned in with a low murmur. “You guys are horrible at this.”

Connie protested, puffing out his chest—only for Hange to ruffle his hair like an annoying older sibling. “Are you any better?”

The brunette grinned triumphantly, looking more like a mischievous cadet than the highest-ranking in the Corps. “Me? Levi’s influence has been funding my trips for the past six years.”

The squad collectively blinked at them before Jean muttered, “Respect.”

But as they made their way deeper into Trost, her frustration was quickly overtaken by something else.

The city was buzzing with life, vendors calling out their wares, children weaving between adults, and chatter filling the air. Yet as soon as Levi stepped onto the main road, the atmosphere subtly shifted.

People noticed him.

Heads turned, whispers spread like wildfire, and before long, the greetings started.

“Captain Levi!”

“It’s really him!”

“Good morning, sir!”

Men straightened their postures, women gasped in admiration, and children pointed in awe. A few brave ones even ran up to him, eyes shining.

Levi, as usual, barely reacted. He nodded when necessary, offered the occasional “Hello,”

At first, Y/N found it amusing—fascinating, even. Seeing him get this much admiration, this much respect, was unlike anything she’d experienced before. But then, she started noticing something else.

They were looking at her too.

Not with admiration.

With confusion.

Some whispered amongst themselves, glancing her way before quickly turning back. A few openly stared. Her nose wrinkled slightly as she caught faint traces of scent lingering in the air—mostly Betas, but here and there, a few Omegas and Alphas stood out. Most of them weren’t high-bred, but every so often, a stronger scent cut through the rest, sharp and unmistakable.

Y/N slowed her steps, unease creeping up her spine. Her gaze flickered toward Sasha and Mikasa, their simple, practical outfits blending easily into the crowd. Then she glanced down at herself—her soft, feminine dress, the ring on her finger, the way the fabric swayed with every step. Finally, her eyes shifted back to the citizens.

The Omegas whispered behind cupped hands, sneaking glances at her before looking away with knowing expressions. The Alphas, on the other hand, looked perplexed—some furrowing their brows, others tilting their heads slightly as if trying to solve a puzzle. A few even smiled at her, their interest apparent.

Y/N suddenly felt as though she could hear every unspoken thought in the air around her.

"Married but unclaimed? What’s wrong with her?"

The realization settled in her stomach like a stone. She wasn’t just being stared at—she was being judged. Scrutinized. Questioned.

The overwhelming urge to disappear struck her like a slap. If she could just melt into the cadets, slip unnoticed into their little group, maybe she’d escape the weight of all those eyes. But it was too late for that. She’d wanted to stand out. Now she was paying for it.

Without thinking, she scooted closer to Levi, her fingers twitching at her sides. She hesitated, then glanced up at him with uncertain, almost pleading eyes.

Levi, however, didn’t need to say a single word. The look he shot her—deadpan, unimpressed, and laced with I told you so—was louder than any scolding could ever be.

Author note: Hi, how are all of you doing? Did you miss me? Haha! I actually have, like... a million things to share, so first things first. I know this chapter is a little dull, BUT the real chapter is 16k words—and believe it or not, NOBODY reads a chapter that’s over 6k. My years in fandom have taught me that TikTok has murdered attention spans, and nobody reads a fic over 6k on Tumblr (AO3 is a different story). Now, since I cross-post here, it would be weird to post the full 16k chapter on AO3 but not here. So, this Wednesday, I’ll post the second part, which, in my opinion, is the BEST part of the chapter. But well... Now, onto other news. A lot of people have been asking me, "Only 15 chapters? The story won’t wrap up that quickly!" The 15 chapters were just an estimate based on what I wanted each chapter to include. Then, I realized they kept surpassing 6k, so I had to cut them into parts, which naturally led to more chapters. So don’t worry—this story STILL has plenty of chapters planned! Now, about last Wednesday—I didn’t update as planned. Why? Well, here come the biggest news! Some of you may already know that I’m from Argentina. I’ve been working toward moving because the situation in my home country (and town) is really tricky, and I want to be in a better position to help my mom and family. Last Friday, I had my visa interview, and I was so anxious and stressed about it that I simply didn’t have time to post. I was double-checking all my papers, preparing for the interview questions, planning my trip to the capital city, etc. Good news? 🎉 THIS GIRL IS MOVING TO AUSTRIA, GUYS!! 🎉 I GOT MY VISA! T-T More updates! After being asked so many times (T-T), I finally opened my first Discord server! It’s for Levi fans, and the rules are over on Discord. If anyone wants to join, feel free! ❤️ We’re still a small group, and I’m trying to keep it tight-knit. (I also share story spoilers there—just saying 👀👉👈) -> https://discord.gg/VnGXsKbC LAST—but definitely not least! I have one art commission slot left! If anyone wants it, feel free to ask. 😊 Love you all! I swear I’ve been reading all your comments, and they’re honestly what’s been giving me strength lately. My life is so chaotic right now, but knowing you’re all enjoying my fics means the world. Also—I was recently mentioned on TikTok about my fics and T-T OMG, it feels like a dream come true! Okay, okay, I’ll stop rambling now. Love ya, guys! ❤️

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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nootybloops · 4 hours ago

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Literal computer programmer here.

Primary school, mac at school, windows at home (once we got a computer). High school, windows at school, mac at home. First two laptops were macs (one still runs my music!).

I didn't even learn how to start programming anything other than very basic webdev stuff until this point! I was in my late 20s!

Desktop is windows purely because so many games still require it, extremely shitty third laptop is linux because I was only using it for uni programming work anyway so why even bother paying for a windows license when you're going to have to fake linux half the time to compile stuff anyway.

All of which to say: I've got Some Experience in this shit, and I'mma tell you your computer literacy has nothing to do with the OS and everything to do with a combination of how interested you are, and the quality of the teaching you receive.

Forever grateful to my PS Computer Teacher, who who taught all the kids at my school how to use The Computers! IIRC the first computers we ever got a go at didn't even have mice, they just had keyboards! And she taught us about whatever the mac equivalent of ms paint was by drawing the GUI on a whiteboard, and explaining the icons!

(This is actually an extremely effective method, by the way. No matter what anyone tells you, understanding icons is not intuitive, and an explanation beforehand stops you freaking out because So! Many! Thing!!! I remember we were all particularly confused by the eraser tool.)

As it happens, she was also the librarian. And when we were a bit older and the school actually had an internet connection (it was the 90s, okay), she taught us about how to find stuff out online, and how to tell if it was reputable or not. Extremely good teacher, and excellent at guessing what would actually be useful for us to know in the future.

Anyway these days, where phones do so much shit By Magic*, and both mac and windows upper management seem to want pcs to follow them (see: app stores), it's no surprise that kids don't know how things work. How could they? The level of technical skills they need to make things work is tiny, and from what I hear they don't get helpful computer lessons any more! It's like expecting a regular train commuter to know how the signaling works. Just. What??

* ie, in the background where you can't see anything at all, even if you want to.

Also to underline Feather's point above, we had a semester's worth of typing lessons in high school. I was the only one in the class who knew how to touch type at the start of it, and I'm pretty damn sure I was the only one who knew how to touch type at the end of it, because no one cared. The teaching in that class was uh... nonexistent, I don't remember a single lesson. IIRC there was some kind of typing tutor program we were supposed to use, but we were pretty much just left to do whatever on the computers (as long as it was text-based. There was a LOT of people turning the font size in word way up and writing swears at people across the room).

If I hadn't already known I probably would've used the time to learn, because even back then it was extremely obvious that it was going to be An Extremely Helpful Life Skill, but clearly none of my classmates agreed with that. :/

#for the record I have not been formally diagnosed with any sort of neurodiversity #but ADHD and autism are very clearly present in my family over at LEAST three generations #so given my everything I probably have at least one of them #but I was an anime nerd not a computer nerd so until I decided to change careers #I only had above-average fannish-style computer skills #I could torrent shit and figure out how to get new codecs so I could watch stuff #and mess with layout things on dreamwidth #but that's about it #the printer doesn't work? idk does it have ink???#(to be fair that is also my answer now #so yeah I feel like I have a pretty good grasp on How People Learn Computers #at least for someone of my era #and yeah no OS is not even a thing there #compusci #education #reblob #this is probably a rant sorry

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canary-clan · 3 days ago

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PART 1/2 this moon has warnings! Careful

Very long Rambling below + If I forgot warnings tell me! Also idk if I'm keeping starclan as 'starclan' or just 'The Stars' for future

Aaaaahhh I've been waiting to draw this page! Since the very first leader doesn't get a full ceremony I thought 'what if the life ceremony was shown in relation to her deaths' (I havent played to far so idk if I can accullally do this for every one of Canarys deaths)

It is mentioned briefly in dialogue but since I don't think it will come up again I'll go into my ideas for Dove and Canarys history with each other...

Burrow-Clan was a very traditional clan that followed 'old rules'. Canary was the Star Keepers apprentice (a story teller and prophecy interpratior) a role created because having your doctor have visions of doom during treatment wasn't ideal... Dove really looked up to Canary, he wanted to be just like her but most of all Dove wanted to be able to talk to the stars... to be special to be helpful and important, but he couldn't even see glimpses of them at all, no matter how much he tried.

Then one day Canary disappeared. Its not unheard of for cats to be lost in the tunnels but it still hurt Dove deeply, he constantly was the subject of rumor for being the next star keeper after Canary since they were close. He resented this, the job was all he ever wanted but it cost his time of grief and made him have to constantly lie about his (lack of) connection to the stars

Moons/years pass, and he is woken up by... Canary? Sure this is a dream he indulges this fake version of his friends request to follow her out of the tunnel... and to take a forest walk to meet some of Canarys friends. But as they walk he realises. This doesn't feel like dreaming he can feel the dirt move under his paws and he can see the way leafs sway on the trees...

This is real. Canary is real, and alive... they are far from Burrow-Clan camp now when he turns around... and sees that Burrow-Clan has caved in, collapsed in... Canary stop him from running back... Canary knew she had to! She talked with stars and they knew everything and she didn't save them she left she disappeared and came back for what? Him?!? Why it didn't make any sense...

And now they are in a new clan... Canary-Clan. How dare she pretend to be leader when she didn't save her clan, his family.

(I dont know if any of the above is even readable or makes sense but I'm really tired so I'm not going back to reread it) I'm not a writer for obvious reasons, just needed this out of my brain.

#clangen #clan generator #canarymoons #clangen comic #tw death #tw animal death

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mrprettywhenhecries · 2 days ago

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don’t waste your time (on me) [g.t]

10. | Hold Me Like a Grudge

Gator Tillman ✘ Win Lewis (OC)

⇾ w.c. 7.8k words ⇾ tags/warning(s). canon x fem!oc pairing, smut, piv unprotected sex, public sex, oral (f!receiving), misogynistic language, murder/assassination/gun mention, angst ⇾ a/n. It's been hot minute since I've posted a chapter, so if you're still here, it's about to get exciting (and also ilysm for sticking around!) Only two more chapters and an epilogue to go! [ divider credit(s). barbed wire divider - @/wethairjoel ] Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💚

The FBI’s deal fresh in her mind, Win struggles to find a way to bring it up to Gator, while taking a chance to drive a wedge between him and Roy. When Roy retaliates, Win nearly loses everything while Gator struggles with taking a life he hadn’t meant to. The deal comes out, and Gator doesn’t take it well.

[ masterlist • win bio ]

As soon as the bar’s heavy back door thudded shut behind her, Win had a cigarette between her lips. Cupping one hand against the chill wind, she quickly lit it and pocketed her lighter, letting her eyes slip shut as she breathed in the nicotine. Ever since the feds had left, she’d been on edge, her stomach in knots as she agonized over how Gator might react if she told him about their plea deal. When she told him.

She couldn’t afford not to.

The FBI was coming for Roy whether Gator decided to testify against him or not, and if he didn’t, the only way she’d be able to see him would be during visiting hours in a federal prison. That is, if he’d even still want to see her by then…

Opening her eyes, she watched the cherry burn brighter before plucking the cigarette from her lips to exhale, finding Gator leaning against her car waiting for her.

“Hey,” she called, flicking her barely spent cigarette away and crossing the parking lot to him, shivering a little at the chill in the air. “You didn’t have to wait out here, you could’ve met me at the house,” she said, pulling her coat closer and Gator pushed off the car to meet her.

“I know. Just wanted to see ya a little sooner,” he said, a small grin playing at his lips as he pulled her closer.

Win pressed her face to his chest, squeezing her eyes shut. Too many thoughts swirled through her head, too many questions, but she couldn’t seem to voice any of them, too afraid of everything changing and the words stuck in her throat, her resolve faltering.

“You okay?” Gator asked, pulling back to look down at her, tilting her face toward him and she nodded.

“Yeah, just a long day,” she sighed, offering him a weary smile.

“You can say that again,” Gator groaned, his hand warm on her cheek as his gaze trailed her face. “Missed you, darlin’,” he breathed, not giving her a chance to regain her courage before his mouth was on hers and the rest of her doubts slipped away for the moment as she kissed him back, her arms wending around his neck.

“I missed you too,” she moaned against his lips, gasping as he spun her, pinning her against the car door.

Pressing his hips into her, his tongue delved deeper and Win opened her mouth wider for him, a whine catching in her throat as heat licked up her thighs to pool low in her gut, his hunger forcing all other thought from her head till all she could focus on was the ache pulsing between her legs and the way he tasted.

“Fuck,” she gasped, shuddering as she felt him harden against her and she clung desperately to his coat as his hands roamed her body greedily. “Need you,” she breathed, her eyes seeking Gator’s beneath the bill of his hat, blown wide with want, and he nodded sharply, brooking no argument.

Glancing around the empty parking lot to make sure they were alone, he tugged her skirt up, practically tearing her panties in his haste to pull them down as she fumbled to unbuckle his belt and free his cock, relishing the groan he let out as she stroked him, feeling him harden fully in her hand.

Letting out a grunt as he hoisted her up, Gator pressed her firmly against the side of the car, hooking his arms under her legs to keep her in place and open for him. The cold air against her dripping sex sent a chill through her and sent her bare legs pebbling, but she quickly forgot the cold as Gator bullied his throbbing head between her slick folds.

With a shuddering breath, he thrust deeper and Win bit her lip to stifle a moan. “Fuck me, Gate–” she whispered, her voice hoarse with a desperation that surprised her, grasping at any excuse to keep from thinking, and Gator obliged, rutting into her faster, his brows knitting in concentration.

“Harder!” she begged, clutching at his coat like it was a lifeline.

Their eyes met as Gator’s hips snapped into hers and his thrusts grew rougher, shaking the frame of the car with each frantic rut. Groaning low in his throat, he pressed his forehead to hers, knocking his hat loose, and Win saw her desperation reflected back at her in Gator’s eyes, his sharp breaths loud in her ears, nearly drowning out the pounding of her pulse.

“Fuck, please–” she cried, unable to form any other coherent words as warmth suffusing her, her pleasure hovering just on the brink of overflowing.

Gator nodded in response, gritting his teeth against the burning in his muscles. “Cum for me, mama–” he grunted, and Win’s mouth fell open as her climax hit her. Tears stung her eyes, catching in her lashes, and Gator’s mouth descended on hers, swallowing the rest of her cry as his thrusts grew as sloppy as his kiss. Shuddering, he emptied himself inside her, her tight cunt milking him dry.

Gator’s head dropped to her shoulder as he stilled and they both fought to catch their breaths, too warm in the chill air. Slipping out of her, he grunted as he let her down, helping her stand on wobbly legs to hastily tug her skirt back down.

Win felt his spend drip down her leg, leaving a sticky mess against her inner thighs, but she didn’t bother gathering her half ripped panties from the ground as Gator tucked himself back into his boxers, his dick still wet with their combined fluids, and suddenly he was feeling the cold.

“C’mon, let’s get home and warm up,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, noticing the way Win was shivering too.

For a moment, she nearly blurted out the FBI’s offer, afraid the longer she waited, the harder it would be, but Gator’s words brought her up short – the casual way he’d called her place home – and she realized that hadn’t been the first time either.

Suddenly she knew how to drive a wedge deeper between him and Roy, and though the idea somewhat terrified her, she realized she’d never wanted anything more.

“Gator, move in with me.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you want—” he replied, only half listening as he pulled her car door open for her.

“Wait, say what?” he spluttered as her words finally caught up to him and he turned to gape at her, still not quite able to fully process what she’d said.

“I said, move in with me,” Win repeated, her heart lodging firmly in her throat as she waited for him to respond.

Gator blinked, his mouth twitching uncertainly. “You– really?”

The question hung in the air between them and Win gave a small nod, biting her bottom lip.

“Yeah,” she breathed, studying his face. “I mean, you’re pretty much there all the time anyway,” she added, shrugging away the tension.

For a second she didn’t think he was gunna answer, until a disbelieving grin pulled at his lips. “Yeah, fuck yeah!” Gator gasped in a rush, his eyes lighting up before his lips crashed against Win’s, and a laugh bubbled up her throat as she threw her arms around his neck.

“Good,” she breathed, her head still spinning as he broke the kiss, relief clashing with the fear that squeezed stubbornly at her heart.

“I’ll start bringing my stuff over tomorrow,” he said, already making a mental list of all his worldly possessions. “There’s really not all that much, I might be able to get it all in one trip if I take the truck–” he mused, lost in thought.

“Gator–” Win began, his enthusiasm sending a wave of affection through her, and along with it, a sudden need to put it into words.

“Yeah?” he asked, his focus swinging back to her.

Though as soon as his eyes were on her again, her throat tightened and she froze up.

“I–uh, I–”

I love you.

Unable to make the words come, she shook herself. “I’m getting cold,” she mumbled instead.

“Shit, yeah,” Gator huffed, his breath streaming in the air. “Let’s get home,” he repeated, giving her a lopsided grin.

As soon as Win parked in the drive, Gator pulled in behind her, but she made no move to get out, her thoughts far away, and she subconsciously reached into her pocket, running her fingers over Agent Meyer’s business card, giving a jump when Gator knocked on her window.

“You comin’ princess, or you gunna stay out here all night?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he peered in at her and she gave herself a shake, pushing the thoughts aside. The only thing she wanted to think about at the moment was the fact that Gator actually wanted to live with her.

“Yeah sorry, I got… distracted,” she said, pushing open her door and letting Gator help her out.

“What were you thinkin’ about?” he asked, pushing her door shut and slinging an arm around her shoulders as they walked to the door.

“Getting warm,” Win answered, moving closer to his side.

“I had some thoughts about that myself,” Gator drawled, reaching into his pocket for his key–the spare he’d just happened to hold onto–and unlocking the door.

Before she could step inside, he’d swept her off her feet, scooping her up into his arms in one swift motion despite his injured arm.

“Gator! What’re you doing?” she yelped, clinging to him instinctively.

“Carryin’ you over the threshold, what’d ya think?” he scoffed lightly, huffing a laugh as he carried her inside and kicking the door shut behind him.

“You’re supposed to do that after you’re married,” Win pointed out, though she made no move to try to escape his arms.

Gator shrugged, his lips twitching. “Close enough,” he said, passing through the living room and heading straight to the bedroom, lowering her to the bed.

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back,” he instructed, stealing a kiss before straightening and striding to the bathroom.

“Where would I even go?” Win laughed, turning her head toward the door as she heard the shower turn on.

“I dunno, I just didn’t want ya to move,” Gator replied, shrugging off his leather jacket as he returned, leaving the water to warm up.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

Gator stopped at the foot of the bed. “Cause I wanted to undress you,” he said, lifting her leg to ease her boot off.

“Aren’t you a gentleman,” Win teased, pushing up to her elbows to watch him press a kiss to her knee before sliding his hands up her thighs to work her skirt down.

“Only when you want me to be, darlin’,” Gator drawled, flashing her a grin. “Now c’mere,” he grunted, tugging Win toward the edge of the bed. Helping her up, he rid her of her top, taking a moment to admire her. Tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, Win turned her face, leaning into his touch, his fingers leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. For a moment it seemed as if he was about to say something, till he shook himself and gave Win’s ass a swat. “Get in there and warm up, water should be hot by now.”

Win wrinkled her nose at him, pinching his side as she stepped around him to head to the shower, leaving him silently kicking himself as he undressed to join her.

“You comin’ in, or you gunna stand out there all night, Deputy?” Win called, letting the water run over her face and hair, sighing as she began to thaw out.

“I’m comin’!” Gator huffed, yanking the curtain open to step into the tub, letting some of the steamy air out.

“Good, you’re just in time to wash my hair,” Win chuckled, handing him her shampoo.

“Alright, switch places with me,” he murmured, flattening himself against the wall so Win could slip past him, relishing the way her wet skin pressed against his.

“So, uh–” he began, pouring some of her sweet smelling shampoo into his hand, the water rolling down his back and shoulders. “How many other guys have you lived with?” he asked, soaping up Win’s hair, filling the shower with that honey and apple scent that he’d come to love so much.

A soft moan left her lips as Gator’s fingers massaged her scalp. “Gate, trust me, you have nothing to be jealous of,” she assured him, seeing through his attempt at nonchalance.

“M’not jealous,” he muttered, using some of her shampoo to wash his own hair, though he sounded more than a little defensive.

“Mhmm,” Win hummed, unconvinced. “I mean, I’ve stayed with a few guys before, couch surfing or whatever, but I’ve never lived with a boyfriend or anything,” she explained. “This is kind of a big deal for me,” she murmured, smiling softly when Gator’s arms wound round her middle, pulling her back against him.

“It’s kind of a big deal for me too,” he admitted and Win turned in his arms.

“Why didn’t you ever move out on your own?” she wondered and Gator shrugged, blinking water from his eyes.

“It was just… easier, I guess. Dad wanted me around to help out, and he said one day the ranch would pass to me, so it just made sense. Plus I didn’t hafta pay rent.”

Win nodded, reaching for the bar of soap to wash Gator’s chest, letting her fingers trail through his thick patch of hair and downward. “Bet that hindered your love life a little,” she teased, earning a scoff from Gator.

“You’re never gunna let me live that down are you?” he grumbled.

“Nope, probably not.”

Gator rolled his eyes, but mirrored Win’s grin, taking the soap from her to return the favour.

Once they’d finally rinsed off, the water was starting to cool and Gator could see Win starting to shiver again.

“Hold on, I’ll getcha a towel,” he offered, shutting off the water and stepping out of the tub to grab two clean towels.

“Gator, you’re dripping all over!” Win cried, somewhere between amused and exasperated, though her expression softened as he wrapped one of the fluffy towels around her and pulled her into his arms, rubbing her dry. “Mm that’s better. You’re so warm,” she sighed, pressing her cheek to his slick chest, not wanting to leave his embrace.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m dreamin’,” Gator murmured, and Win frowned, tilting her head to look up at him.

“Why’s that?” she asked gently, swearing his eyes swam for a moment before he squeezed them shut.

“Cause there’s no way a girl like you’d wanna keep wastin’ your time on me,” he whispered.

“Gator,” Win breathed, reaching up to take his face in her hands, his eyes reluctantly opening to fix on hers. “I’m not wasting anything,” she exclaimed, a fierceness to her words. “I misjudged you when we first met, but you surprised me. And now… the thought of losing you–” Her voice broke, cutting off, but Gator was quick to reassure her.

“You ain’t gunna lose me.”

“You promise?” Win whispered, holding Gator’s gaze and he nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of her damp head.

“Course,” he breathed, clearing his throat. “Now c’mon, let’s get to bed, I’m beat.”

By the time they dried off and climbed under the covers, Gator pulled Win against him, curling around her protectively, one arm draped over her waist. It was barely five minutes and he was already out, his breathing slow and even.

Win, however, found sleep elusive, and without Gator to distract her, her thoughts returned to the FBI’s deal, leaving her to wonder whether Gator would change his mind about leaving if he knew.

Jolting awake, the remnants of a nightmare fading from her consciousness, Win turned her head to find Gator still sound asleep next to her and she let out the breath she’d been holding, running her palm across her forehead to wipe the sheen of sweat from it.

Willing her pulse to slow, she glanced at the digital clock across the room and groaned. It was much too early for her to be awake yet, though not far off from the time Gator usually woke, especially if he was going to stop by the ranch to pack before his shift.

Shutting her eyes, she took a deep breath and Gator stirred next to her, rolling toward her. When she opened her eyes, however, she could see he was still asleep, his expression soft, and she carefully reached over to push the loose hair from his brow, letting her fingertips gently brush his warm skin.

At her touch, Gator’s eyelids fluttered and his nose wrinkled. “What’re you doin’?” he mumbled, eyes and voice still heavy with sleep.

“Just admiring you,” Win answered, her face warming at the admission. “You look so peaceful.”

Gator let out a soft laugh. “Look at you bein’ all sappy and shit,” he teased, cracking an eye, the corner of his lip rising.

“Shut up,” Win huffed, giving his chest a half hearted shove, but Gator caught her and pulled her closer, trapping her against his chest.

“Quit squirmin’ and c’mere,” he murmured, tucking his chin atop her head and Win couldn’t help but smile into his chest.

“Gator?” she breathed after a long moment, wondering if he’d fallen back to sleep, but he grunted in return and Win shifted so her voice wouldn’t be muffled. “There’s something I need to talk to you about…” she began, her stomach twisting, and she quickly swallowed down the taste of bile at the back of her throat.

Gator let out a groan. “S’too early to talk,” he whined, pressing his lips to hers to quiet her.

“Gator–” Win tried again between kisses, making a face as he tried to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping between her lips. “Gator, your breath reeks,” she protested, managing to push him back, but his eyes darkened and he rolled atop her, pinning her to her back.

“Guess I’ll just hafta kiss elsewhere, then,” he drawled, radiating smugness as she squirmed beneath him.

“Gator, I’m serious,” Win argued, trying and failing to take control of the situation. “C’mon, there’s something I–” Her words faltered, cutting off abruptly as Gator lifted the hem of her oversized night shirt to press an open mouthed kiss to her hip, positioning himself between her legs.

“There’ll be plenty of time to talk later,” Gator said, kissing his way down her inner thigh.

“You’re such–an ass,” Win huffed, inhaling sharply halfway through as Gator’s lips wrapped around her clit before flicking it with his tongue. He merely chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest and he’d soon driven all thoughts of the FBI’s deal from her mind, her head thrown back in bliss and hands tangled in the sheets.

When he crawled atop her to kiss her again as he sank into her tight heat, the taste of her still on his tongue, she didn’t have the strength to argue, giving in easily. By the time they’d finished, Gator filling her just as his alarm went off, Win flopped back to the bed, spent, her chest heaving while he stood to silence the alarm and stretch.

“I could get used to this every morning,” he drawled, flashing her a smug grin as he pulled his shirt over his head and pushed his hair back out of his eyes.

Win let out a tired huff and reached for a tissue to clean herself up. “Don’t get too used to it, Deputy,” she said, though her lips quirked slightly.

“You liked it,” Gator retorted, pulling up his cargo pants and buckling on his belt before leaning over the bed to steal a quick peck to the lips and whisper in Win’s ear, “y’little slut.”

Before he could pull back, Win pinched his side and took advantage of his petulant yelp to grab the front of his t-shirt, holding him in place for a longer kiss. When she finally released him, he wore a lopsided grin.

“See ya tonight, darlin’.”

As he left the room, a pep to his step, Win pulled her knees up to her chest and sighed, wondering if there’d ever be a good time to bring up what she needed to.

Back at the ranch, Gator grabbed a couple large trash bags on his way up to his room and began emptying his drawers unceremoniously into them, tossing his clothes into the bag in a messy heap, unconcerned with keeping them organized until he unpacked them.

“Goin’ somewhere?”

The sound of Roy’s voice behind him startled him, and Gator spun, finding his father standing in the doorway, watching him.

He hastily swallowed the nerves that had leapt into his throat, as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, hating that his father often had that effect on him. He bent to tie one of the bulging garbage bags before answering, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“I’m movin’ in with Win.”

Roy watched him for a long moment, his expression unchanged, save for a tightening around his eyes.

“You think that’s wise?”

Gator cleared his throat and shrugged, shifting his weight. “I mean, I’m almost thirty. You don’t expect me to live here forever,” he murmured, halfway between statement and question, not quite meeting Roy’s eyes.

“No,” Roy finally said, planting his hands on his hips, his form filling the doorway. “I expect you to be married first—to a respectable girl—and for you to make a home for yourself, not go live in sin with the town tramp, in her shit-hole apartment,” he huffed.

Gator’s jaw flexed with the effort of holding his tongue, the urge to snap back in defense of Win nearly overtaking his better senses. Instead, he took a breath and shook his head. “Well, it’s my life,” he said, striding across the room to grab some sweaters from his closet.

Roy grunted, clearly not pleased by Gator’s response, but he didn’t argue. “Well, that’s disappointing,” he replied and Gator winced. “I still expect you to help out here,” he added.

“Yeah, I know,” Gator mumbled, tying up the second bag. “I gotta go, I’ll get the rest later,” he mumbled, hoisting one of the bags over his shoulder before heading for the door, having to wait for Roy to step out of the way.

Roy merely watched him, waiting for his footsteps to recede down the stairwell before a frown marred his bluff features. He’d not expected this turn of events, but it was clear the situation was more dire then he’d anticipated and if he didn’t break the hold Win had on his son soon, it might jeopardize everything he’d been working toward.

Knowing he needed to take drastic measures, Roy strode into Gator’s room and began searching–for what he wasn’t yet sure–but a hunch told him there had to be something he could use to his advantage.

The dresser was already empty and the desk mostly cleared off. Crouching near the bed, Roy felt beneath it, finding Gator’s old laptop pushed out of the way. Pulling it out and lifting the screen, he could barely believe his idiot son had left it logged in and unlocked. A quick search of the files was all it took to find the leverage he needed, and a grim satisfaction filled him as he brought up a poorly hidden saved dashcam recording featuring Miss Lewis and a certain Sheriff’s Deputy in a rather compromising position.

“Gotcha,” he breathed.

As much as he despised her, he had to admit Win looked damn good on her knees.

That night at work, Win couldn’t help but feel eyes on her, more than one patron giving her strange looks that ranged from appraisal to disgust. And while she was no stranger to the occasional disapproving glance or wandering eye, the sheer amount of stares she was getting was starting to become unnerving.

“Is it just me, or are people staring more than usual?” she asked Beau in a hushed voice as she stood by the small window to the kitchen, catching a couple guys at the far end of the bar leering at her.

Beau frowned and leaned out the order window to look. “I dunno hon, seems pretty normal to me. You naturally draw attention wherever you go,” he chuckled, offering her an apologetic smile when she scowled.

“This feels different, B,” she insisted. “It feels like they know something I don’t.”

“Well, I guess I don’t know it either,” he replied, nodding toward the man that had just approached the bar, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Win took a fortifying breath before turning to face him. “What can I get for you?” she asked flatly, not even attempting to return his smile.

He looked her up and down a moment before answering, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the bar. “You could do me the pleasure of your company,” he said, his brows raising expectantly. “Show ya what it’s like to be with a real man,” he added, and Win fought the urge to roll her eyes at his line.

Looking him up and down in return, her lips curled in disgust, and she propped her hands on her hips. “Nah, I’m good.”

The guy let out a short laugh, as if she’d made a joke. “I bet you are,” he drawled, undeterred.

“Excuse me?” Win huffed, her eyes narrowing dangerously, but he didn’t notice the threat in her eyes.

He shrugged, smirking. “I’m just sayin’, that mouth looks like it’s good for more than just sass-talkin’.”

Win’s brows rose, a little incredulous he’d gone that far, but his response didn’t throw her for long. “Yeah?” she asked, tilting her head, the edge of her hair brushing her shoulder. “What a coincidence, cause your mouth only looks like it’s good for gettin’ hit.”

That seemed to give him pause and he hesitated, wetting his lips,and a cold smile stretched across Win’s face. “So why don’t you get outta here before I continue this conversation with my fist.”

The guy seemed to think twice about pressing his luck and pushed away from the bar with a scowl. Win folded her arms over her chest as she watched him go, allowing herself a small smirk at the tiny victory. Her relief was short lived, however, when one of the men at the end of the bar spoke up.

He looked vaguely familiar, one of those cocky frat boys she’d seen at some of the house parties she used to frequent before she started dating Gator.

“That’s cold, Lewis,” he called, adjusting his grimy ball cap. “Thought you liked bein’ propositioned.” He leaned back on his stool, watching her expectantly, just waiting to get a rise out of her.

“The fuck are you talkin’ ‘bout?” Win countered, an uneasy feeling bubbling in her gut, and her question only made the guy’s grin grow.

He laughed at something one of his friends said and brought the mouth of his bottle to his lips, taking a swig of beer before answering. “I heard you won’t say no to suckin’ a cock in exchange for a favour,” he exclaimed, pausing for effect, his tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Or is that just when it comes to cops?”

Win’s mouth fell open, but no scathing rebuttal came. Instead, white hot panic flooded her body.

How could they know about that?

“What, no snappy comeback?” he jeered, getting a laugh from his buddies.

Win swallowed, but her throat was dry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I think you should leave,” she said, hating how hoarse her voice sounded.

Unperturbed by her command, the guy leaned over the bar, his lidded eyes trained on Win’s, seeing right through her lie, and she could smell the beer on his breath.

“We all saw your little video, sweetheart. You can stop playing dumb now,” he breathed, his brows furrowing in mock confusion. “What I can’t figure out it is, why Tillman? What’s that loser got that we don’t, huh?”

“HEY! She said get out! Or do I gotta get the bat?” Beau thundered, striding out of the kitchen to step in front of Win, towering threateningly over the guy and his buddies with a glare that made them hesitate.

“C’mon, we’re outta here,” one of them mumbled uneasily, and they all slunk toward the door, but Win barely noticed, hastily answering her phone on the second ring, expecting Gator.

Her pulse thundered in her ears and it took her a moment to realize it wasn’t Gator’s voice on the other end of the line, but her friend, Lydia’s.

“Win? Oh, thank God you answered!” she exclaimed. “Have you seen–”

“Yeah, I just found out,” Win sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, already feeling a headache starting to form behind her eyes.

“I’ve already reported it, it’s getting taken down,” Lydia assured her.

“Yeah well, I’m pretty sure the whole town’s seen it already,” Win groaned. “But thank you for taking care of it,” she added, not wanting her friend to think she wasn’t grateful.

“Of course,” Lydia said, growing quiet for a moment. “You don’t think Gator…?” she asked hesitantly, but Win was quick to cut her off.

“No. No, he wouldn’t have posted it,” she said firmly, a thought occurring to her that made her want to vomit. “But I think I know who might’ve.”

Frankie, the bar’s namesake and owner, stuck his head out of his office to call for Win, an unreadable expression on his usually placid face.

“Shit, Lyds, I gotta go,” she murmured, quickly saying goodbye and taking a shaky breath before heading into his office.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked uncertainly and Frankie let out a weary sigh, gesturing her in further.

“Win, you know you’re one of my best bartenders, and frankly, I don’t usually give a damn about what any of yeh do outside of here, but…” The old man shook his head, his thick white eyebrows drawing down, and Win braced herself; she could see where this was heading.

Frankie took a deep breath and lifted his head to look her in the eye. “I’m sorry, Lewis, but I gotta let ya go. This whole video business is–” he paused gesturing vaguely with his hand as if he didn’t know how to put it into words. “I mean, what were you thinkin’?”

A flash of anger seared through Win and she let out an incredulous scoff. “You’re kiddin’ me, right?” she muttered, her eyes rolling skyward as she planted her hands on her hips. “I didn’t even know it was being recorded at the time, and I sure as hell didn’t want it posted for the fuckin’ world to see. Some sick fuck violated my privacy on purpose,” she hissed. “I’m the victim here, and you’re firing me?”

Frankie leaned back in his chair, looking uncomfortable. “Well, that’s not all…” he muttered, earning a sharp look as Win waited to see what other excuses he had.

“I’ve just received some… complaints.”

Win’s brows rose. “Complaints? About what?”

“Well, and you know I don’t got no problem with you throwin’ out anyone that gets too… rowdy, but you’ve been makin’ a lot of threats…”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Win muttered, bleating a humourless laugh.

“And I–I can’t afford to have the Sheriff gettin’ involved.”

And there is it, Win thought, frustrated tears welling in her eyes. Roy had orchestrated this, that much was certain. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been the one to send those assholes in specifically to get a rise out of her, all so he could then have an excuse to lean on Frankie to fire her. And she’d played right into his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Win,” Frankie murmured helplessly. He leaned forward to slide an unmarked envelope across the desk to her. “Take this. I know it doesn’t make up for it, but… it’s somethin’.”

Hastily wiping at her eyes, Win cleared her throat as she snatched the envelope from the desk, though her voice still came out in a thick croak.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Slipping the envelope in the back pocket of her jeans without looking inside, she pushed out of the office and grabbed her coat and keys before anyone could get a good look at her tear stained face, but Beau caught her as she strode through the kitchen toward the back door.

“What happened?”

“I got fired.”

Her friend’s mouth fell open, shock painting his features. “For what?” he exclaimed, but Win shook her head.

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter, I gotta go,” she said, needing to be anywhere else right then.

“Wait, Win, are you gunna be okay?” Beau called after her and she forced herself to flash him a watery smile as she pulled open the heavy back door, trying to reassure him.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Always am,” she insisted before slipping out into the chill night, the frigid air biting her face, but she was past caring.

Inside her car, she finally glanced at the contents of the envelope, unsurprised to see a stack of cash and a sob left her throat as she broke down, tears blurring her vision. Gripping the steering wheel hard enough to whiten her knuckles, she let out a scream of frustration, needing to let it out before she burst.

Throwing her car in drive, she took off, bringing her phone to her ear.

Gator felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he lifted his rifle, bringing the scope to his eye. He’d answer in a moment, but he had something he had to take care of first.

“Got you, fucker,” he breathed, lining up his shot. Munch’s silhouette was visible through the thin curtains in the upstairs window of the house across the street. Adjusting his grip, Gator released his breath and squeezed the trigger. The bullet found its mark, spattering the curtains with his target’s brains and Gator lowered his rifle, squinting up at the window before glancing up and down the quiet street to make sure no one had seen anything.

Damn, but that was a good shot, he thought, a little surprised at how easy it’d been to take out the old assassin after all.

His phone began to vibrate again and he frowned, checking the screen. “Jeeze babe, gimme a sec. I’ll call ya back once I’m finished,” he muttered, pocketing his phone and heading across the street toward Munch’s car, parked by the curb.

Slipping on the slick layer of ice, he threw his arms out awkwardly, catching his balance as he rounded the trunk. Crouching, he retrieved the tracker he’d placed the other day. Slipping the little black box in his coat pocket, he happened to glance in the back seat and did a double take.

“You gotta be shittin’ me,” he breathed, leaning in closer to the window to get a better look. Sure enough, tucked behind the passenger seat was the duffel bag of cash Roy had given Munch. “What a fuckin’ idiot,” Gator chuckled under his breath and tried the door handle. Locked. Glancing around, he smashed in the window with the butt of his rifle and winced at the noise.

No one came to investigate the commotion, but Gator’s pulse still pounded loud in his ears, his body vibrating with adrenaline. He could think of a hundred different things he and Win could do with the money and he grinned as he set his rifle on the top of the car and reached inside.

“Thief! THIEF!”

As soon as his hand closed around the bag, Gator felt something hit him and he flinched, hastily pulling the bag free and stumbling backwards to face his attacker–an angry gray haired woman, who if Gator’d been paying attention might’ve noticed was wearing the same fur-lined coat Munch had been.

“Ow! Hey!” he exclaimed, lifting an arm to fend off another blow from her bag of oranges. For as frail as she looked, she sure had a mean swing.

“Thief! Get away!” she wailed again, several of her oranges flying loose to roll down the sidewalk as she grasped at the canvas bag, attempting to yank it away from him.

“Get off!” Gator growled, struggling with her for a moment before shoving her, gaping as she slipped on the ice and toppled backward, smacking her head on the curb with a sickening thud.

“Fuck–” Gator’s breath came out in a shudder.

Blood began to pool darkly beneath the old woman’s head, her eyes open, but unseeing.

Swallowing the bile that rushed up his throat, Gator looked around wildly as he backed away, but the street remained empty. With trembling fingers, he grabbed the gun from the roof of the car and took off down the sidewalk toward the alley he’d parked down, his phone vibrating insistently against his thigh as he ran.

Panting hard, he threw open the driver side door and scrambled inside, tossing the gun in the back seat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought to calm his nerves, but all he could see was the alarmed look on the woman’s face as she stumbled backwards.

It was an accident! It wasn’t my fault. She slipped on the ice and fell, Gator told himself. For some reason, her death bothered him more than taking out Munch had, and all he wanted was Win’s arms around him, holding him tight, her soothing voice in her ear.

Pulling his phone out to check his messages, a block of ice dropped to his gut when he saw how many missed calls he had, followed by an ominous text that made his blood run cold.

Gator where are you? Why won’t you answer??? This is an emergency! GET HERE ASAP

His heart lodged firmly in his throat, he pulled out of the alley and stepped on the gas, barreling through several stop signs on his way, all hope of the comfort he craved going out the window.

By the time Win heard Gator’s key in the door, she’d already smoked nearly an entire pack of Marlboros, and emptied a third of a bottle of whiskey.

“Win, what’s wrong? Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Gator exclaimed in a rush, barely getting through the door before he was across the room, taking her by the shoulders to look her over, frantically searching for injuries.

Win pushed him back with a scoff. “Am I alright? No, I’m not fucking alright!”

Gator frowned, taken aback by the scorn in her voice. “What happened?” he demanded again.

“Where have you been, Gator? Were you fuckin’ aware your little dash cam recording of us got fucking leaked?” she cried and he jerked back in surprise.

“What? How?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Win exclaimed, throwing her hands up and beginning to pace—she could feel herself growing hysterical, but she was already too worked up to slow down. “—But every fuckin’ creep in town has seen it and I lost my fucking job over it!”

“What? You can’t be serious,” Gator exclaimed, but Win shook her head, desperately blinking away the fresh wave of tears that threatened to fall.

“Oh my God, Gator, you’re probably gunna be in hot water at work too, Jesus Christ—!” she swore, her voice cracking, and Gator caught her as she passed, pulling her into his arms—needing to hold her.

“Hey, hey baby, no!” he exclaimed, trying to calm her as she clutched at his jacket—needing to be held. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, nothin’s gunna happen,” he murmured, but Win drew back with a frown.

“How can you know that? Gator, this is serious.”

“Trust me, Win, I’ve got connections. This’ll all go away,” Gator insisted. “I’m the law, remember?” he asked, cocking a brow at her.

“Hell Win, I even took this bastard out earlier and it doesn’t even fuckin’ matter cause no one can touch me. We make the rules around here,” he boasted, the words slipping out before he could stop them, though he was careful enough not to mention the old woman—that was an accident.

Win jerked back.

“You killed someone?” she gasped, her expression warping into one Gator didn’t like.

Gator’s not like Roy. You sure about that?

Agent Meyer’s words echoed in Win’s ears and she swallowed down a wave of nausea.

What all had Gator been doing on his father’s orders?

Gator’s fingers bit into her arm, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Win, you don’t understand, he had it coming to him, this guy was bad news. He’s the one who killed several of our guys, who did this–” Gator held up his cast “–and he threatened you!” he exclaimed, a desperate hitch to his voice, as if pleading for her to understand, to stop looking at him as if she didn’t know him. “I had to put a stop to it.”

Win wet her lips, trying to process the information, still unsure how to feel. Maybe he was right. She could still remember the threatening aura she felt around the strange man that day he’d come to the bar, watching her.

Shaking her head, she ran a hand down her face, something Gator had said earlier catching in her thoughts. “Gator, I’m scared for you. You think you’re untouchable, but you’re not.”

He frowned. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean, the FBI is onto you.”

Gator rolled his eyes, his face scrunching in disbelief. “Those guys?” he scoffed, his lip curling. “Those two idiots that showed up at the ranch a couple weeks ago? They got nothing on us,” he insisted, but Win shook her head, grabbing Gator’s arms to get him to focus.

“They are building a case against Roy, against you, and soon they are going to raid the ranch.”

Gator gave a start, his brows furrowing in confusion. “No, that’s– how d’you know that?” he demanded, confusion slowly shifting to suspicion.

This was it. There was no turning back now.

Win took a breath, steeling herself for Gator’s reaction. “Because those two agents came to the bar the other night to talk to me.”

Gator stared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Win wet her lips, a hot flash of panic searing through her. “I tried to–”

Gator’s face tensed, his jaw flexing as if he was holding himself back from lashing out. “The fuck did they want?”

“You,” Win breathed, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “They want to make a deal with you.”

“What d’you mean? What kind of deal?”

Win sucked in a breath. “To testify against Roy, in exchange for federal immunity.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Gator scoffed, a conflicted look crossing his face.

“Because if you don’t take the deal, when they raid the ranch to arrest Roy, they’ll arrest you too,” she explained, needing him to understand the gravity of the situation. “That means federal prison, Gator.”

Fear flickered in his eyes as she let it sink in and a tiny spark of hope flared in her chest, until he backed away, his eyes going hard.

“I can’t–” he breathed, brows pinching as he looked at her. “You want me to betray my dad.”

Panic squeezed her throat, making it hard to breathe, but she shook her head desperately. “I don’t want you to go to prison! Gator, please!”

Win watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed nervously, but then his face set, as if he’d made up his mind.

“You don’t understand, Win. It may have been easy for you to cut your dad out of your life, but I can’t do that. He’s counting on me!”

Win’s mouth fell open.

“He’s probably the one who posted the video!” she cried, her voice raising as her anger boiled over. “He’s been trying to break us up from the very beginning, or have you forgotten?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten,” Gator huffed. “I know he’s not your biggest fan and he’s been outspoken about his opinions, but he wouldn’t do that,” he argued and Win gaped at him in disbelief.

“You really don’t think he’d go that far when I’m willing to bet he’s done far worse?” she asked, not waiting for an answer. “Think about it, Gator. You were the only one to have a copy of that video and it just happened to get uploaded the day you told him you were moving out? Where’s your laptop, huh, still at the ranch, where Roy could easily access it?” she pressed.

Gator went quiet, his gaze falling to the ground and Win was sure she had him.

“Is that why you asked me to move in with you?” he whispered. “To get between me and my dad, to get me to turn against him?” Gator asked, and when his eyes found Win’s, the hurt in his gaze knocked the air from her lungs.

“No! Gator, that’s not–!” she cried, grasping at any shred of hope that he’d believe her. “I asked you to move in with me because I wanted to be with you, that’s all,” she insisted, though her voice wavered, and Gator’s expression hardened.

“Stop fuckin’ lyin’,” he breathed, his words cutting through her.

“Gator, please. Please just listen to me–” she tried again, desperate to get through to him. She reached out to take his hand, but he pulled back as if burned, glaring at her outstretched hand.

Swallowing a sob, Win pushed on, not ready to give up. “He’ll set you up to take the fall and he won’t feel a shred of guilt over it. You don’t have to go down for his crimes, Gator. Can’t you see he’s just fucking using you?” she cried, her throat burning.

Gator scoffed softly. “How’re you any different?” he asked, his voice hollow, and an incredulous huff left Win’s lips, his question leaving her speechless for a moment.

“Who’s the one that calls you a loser, and who’s the one that thinks you’re a winner?” she breathed, holding his gaze, though tears pricked her eyes, making her vision swim.

A sardonic grin twisted Gator’s lips as if she’d just told a cruel joke and he shook his head. “My dad was right about you, Win, you’re nothin’ but a snake.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out her spare key. “Here, I don’t need this,” he muttered, tossing it atop the counter. It slid to a stop in front of her and Win flinched as if struck.

Turning away, Gator strode to the door.

“You lied.”

Win’s words brought him up short and he stopped, his hand on the doorknob, though he didn’t turn to look at her.

“You said I wouldn’t lose you,” she whispered.

Gator’s jaw tensed and he hesitated a moment longer before throwing open the door and glancing back.

“Guess that makes us both liars then.”

⇾ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @thecreelhouse @heartbreak-sandwich @girlwiththerubyslippers @sailorskunk

@cycat4077 @victorclays @professionalpromqueen @mayhem24-7forever

#gator tillman #gator tillman x oc #oc: win lewis #otp: wingator #fic: don't waste your time on me #joz.fic #joe keery #fargo s5 fanfiction #gator tillman fanfiction

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shyrusstone · 3 days ago

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Adding onto this. Rant incoming.

I have always been described as "bubbly" and "cheerful" my whole life. Anyone who interacted with me outside my sibling circle thought "she hasn't been through anything before. She has the light in her eyes. She's so happy all the time!"

One day, for (almost) the first time, I found a PCP. I went for stomach pains that were worrying me.

I also, struggled with anxiety. So I thought I'd offhandedly mention, "hey also I have some anxiety. Is that something we can talk about?"

The moment I said it I began to cry.

He took me seriously, and offered for me to see the therapist they had in the building on the spot.

I had a brief talk with her, scheduled an appointment, and went.

I was so anxious. I told her everything that was currently stressing me out and I cried so hard I gave myself a migraine. This meeting was to just cover the basics, I wasn't supposed to go into all those details yet but it just came out. My therapist was a lovely person who saw me and stopped filling out the paper so she could talk me through it immediatley. She asked if she could share this with the doctor to get me some medication. I said yes.

He came into the room after being told of my situation and said what I have heard everytime someone hears what I've been through.

"I would have never even guessed you were going through all that. I met you and you were so warm and bubbly. I'm so sorry"

He then said "I'm going to prescribe you two medications right away and I want to see you in a week. If you have any problems don't worry about making an appointment. Just show up and I'll take you."

Through therapy and medication, I have noticed a *monumental* change in my life.

I'm eating better, I'm exercising, I'm remembering to do things I usually forget and I'm way more focused on things.

I'm not having breakdowns each week at work in the break room, or being too anxious to talk to employees.

I'm not thinking about waking up to a dead family every night. I'm not worried about my parents intentionally poisoning my food.

I don't ruminate on the many near death experiences in my family. I dont tense up when someone coughs in my house.

I don't flinch at every single sound, I don't cry if a loud sound goes off unexpectedly. I don't cry when someone yells at me.

I don't stop what I'm doing to pay attention to which way the emergency vehicles go.

But!

I am still me.

I am still a warm and bubbly person, who will love little things and joke around and buy cute plushies.

I'm lucky I got the right medication right off the bat. I'm lucky to have such an *amazing* doctor who listens to me. I'm lucky to have found the *best therapist* I could have ever asked for.

But I notice when I skip a day on medication. I'm still me without it, but it's so much harder to be.

I'm at my best when I have the help I need.

90s movies: Psychopharmacology is as good as a lobotomy. If you take pills to treat your mental illness it will literally murder your imaginary friends and you will become a boring, lotus-eating conformist drone.

Me after taking my meds: drives the scenic route home to see if there are any geese on the pond and does a little dance in line at the grocery store and comes home to throw everything in my fridge into a stew pot because I can finally taste food again while singing songs at my birds in which I replace all the instances of "she" with "Cheese" and doing a Dolly Parton impression on the phone to my sister

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blueraith · 2 days ago

Text

I think there's some sort of fundamental problem a portion of the fanbase has with Show Don’t Tell.

You know, words verses action.

"The show never addresses Vi's trauma!"

Genuinely, what the fuck are y'all talking about? Pit Fighter Vi was nothing but a walking case of trauma if I've ever seen one. She descends briefly into alcoholism for fucks sake. Why do y'all THINK she was purposely allowing the shit to get beaten out of her, drink away the pain, and then repeat the next day. Some of y'all even want MORE of this fucking whump and somehow that doesn't translate as Vi literally living out her trauma in the most unhealthy way possible????

I'm literally confounded whenever I see this sentiment.

Of what about: "Caitlyn never apologizes!"

Huh????

What the fuck do y'all THINK Caitlyn was doing as she had that tender touch and look at the same spot she hit Vi during the sex scene? Or gave up her generational Council seat to a representative of Zaun if NOT to apologize for how she treated it? Or personally lead the front line defense of Piltover and lost a fucking eye for?

It's like y'all need Vi to stare directly at the audience and state "Yeah, prison fucked me up, fighting with my sister makes me sad, and breaking up with my not-girlfriend-girlfriend has sent me into a spiral that I don't know how get out of. I'm going to drink and punch away my problems until the pain becomes too much to bear, and then I'm going to risk dying in my fights to end the pain."

Evidently y'all need your hands held this much.

Or Cait: "Hello, I'm Caitlyn Kiramman, generational wealth here. My trauma and grief became out of control, and I hurt people through my own pain. I'm very sorry about that. Sorry for hitting Vi, sorry for declaring martial law on Zaun, sorry for getting mixed up with a Noxian warlord. I've given up the Kiramman seat and will use my wealth and influence to help, not hurt, for the rest of my life. Oh, I also sacrificed an eye. That was kinda a big deal to me, I don't regret it, though."

Like, what the fuck did y'all want? Even if I wanted to bother writing all that shit in character, it just comes off cringe as fuck. I'm not exactly a novice writer either, this is just frankly something Caitlyn would never do. She doesn't verbalize her feelings this way and never has.

But evidently some of you actually need Caitlyn to stand up at a podium and deliver some lame fucking apology with words for it to count in your minds. The actions don't matter, only the words do, because y'all can't recognize actions in place of words to save your lives.

This isn't even just relegated to Caitvi.

"They forgot about the sisters and their relationship!"

WHAT DO YOU MEAN??????????????

What were episodes 5 and 6 for if not the sisters and their relationship???????

What's hilarious about this one is that it comes the closest to actually just being outright verbally stated for y'all to follow and you still missed it. This whole story beat is basically a slowpitch softball being lobbed lazily at the audience to hit out of the park and some of y'all whiffed it so badly, you're cartoonishly spinning around on your back foot after your swing, Looney Tunes style.

There's an actual fucking letter Jinx reads out that's about Vander and Silco but is so obviously a parallel for Jinx and Vi that it's kind of embarrassing this is even a talking point in the fandom. The characters themselves literally even realize and see themselves in their fathers' broken relationship for fucks sake.

There's even a sibling fight and everything.

Vi basically wanted to stay at the commune with her family until Jayce showed up and fucked everything up. (For good reason.)

I do have some personal nitpicks about the sister stuff, but to say that it was "forgotten" is grossly false. Hilariously so.

Guess this is what y'all wanted:

"Hey, Jinx, I'm trying really hard to be a family with you again, prison fucked me up, and so it's kinda hard to get my mind around my new reality. Except you've been rejecting me and blowing shit up since I got out, I don't know what to do with that, so I'm spiraling."

"Well, geez, Vi, I have a whole slew of mental trauma and illnesses that are undiagnosed, so that's not helping things, but I'm also really mad that you worked together with a Piltovan enforcer after all our family has been through. I also have this whole "favorite person" thing going on that's really triggering the shit out of me that I don't know what to do with."

It's this what y'all wanted? Firstly, when is a well written and in character version of the above supposed to take place, and secondly for all that y'all bray about trauma and projecting your own responses on fictional characters (see any time someone is upset that Vi doesn't arbitrarily flinch at enforcers and Caitlyn like they think she should) don't y'all MAYBE think that neither Vi or Jinx are in a position to be this self aware about their own emotions and feelings? We're talking about two extremely traumatized young women from a mutual broken family doing the best they fucking can. It's not even close to adequate because it's not MEANT TO BE.

These things among many others are so frustrating to see the fandom nitpick. Media literacy and Show Don't Tell are two subjects being defensively criticized whenever anyone brings it up because y'all think we're using it to browbeat criticism away.

We're not. We're using it because y'all evidently are missing key plot points and then turn around and accuse the show of never addressing them. It's frankly bizarre. How are y'all watching the show? Is it on a second screen? The other room? At 2x speed? Are you on tiktok while you watch?

How are y'all missing this? And could you please rewatch the show before making these brain-dead "criticisms?" I promise I'm going to be fucking pissed if TV in the future has to have every character flat out state their emotions, motivations, and thoughts at the camera for y'all to fucking get it. This is just sad.

#caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #jinx arcane #vi and jinx #fandom critical

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your-favourite-yapper · 2 days ago

Note

plspslpslpslsplsplspls kidnapped sirius

Oh Fatima the things I do 4 u

bacstory : umm adding this after I wrote th bullet points bc I realize this doesn't make sense but assume remus and sirius are sorta close friends and Remus is convinced sirius is in love w him but siirus acc is dating james and this makes remus mad bc ?? Remus has been waiting 4 sirisus love 4 so long ?? So he kidnaps him (for sake of simpkicity pls pretend james wouldnt IMM kno smth is wrong)

Ok now it's time 4 the acc thing

1st of all let’s get one thing straight

This is not kidnapping!!! this is just. an extended sleepover.

W like a teensy bit of restraints

And like a teensy weensy bit of isolation

A romantic getaway even !!

Totally normal bsf behavior. 😃 ↕️😃↕️😃

Sirius just doesn’t understand yet. But that’s fine!!!

That’s fine. Remus is patient

He always has been. 🥰

And b4 u start coming at him Remus had to do this btw what else was he supposed to do??

Let sirius leave him????

Go run off into the sunset with jamesother people????

Absolutely not!!

no no no.

He is protecting sirius. 1!1!!1

From the outside world Rrom people who don’t understand him like remus does.

Sirius should be grateful!

And ok fine

Maybe the 1st few days are a little rough.

Maybe sirius screams a little.

Maybe he throws things.

Maybe he bites (and maybe remus likes that)

Maybe remus has 2 lock the doors

And maybe Sirius throws things

And spits curses at him

And tries to escape exactly 12 times

But listen this is just a phase!!!!

Lobe takes time!!!!!

He’ll settle down!!!

Except.

Oh.

Sirius is not coming around???in fact he is doubling down???

Full-on feral mode. Gnawing on the chair leg like a rabid animal

Calling remus things like fucking psycho and deranged creep (but rjl has degradation kink so he thinks this is hot)

But hllo?

Where is the gratitude?

The love?

THE MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING?????

BUT !!1

That’s fine.

Remus can fix this

All relationships take work!! he just has to be patient nd Gentle.

Maybe if he just explains it right sirius will understand. he’ll see how perfect this is how right it feels.

And so he explains how acc this is a good thing !! and thsn sirius yells at him so remus takes away his speaking priveleges (remus does miss the sound of sirius’s voice but if he keeps saying mean things then he has to deal with the consequences of his actions.

Actions meet consequences consequences meet actions)

And it’s not like he’s suffering!!1!!1!

Remus would never let him suffer. sirius gets everything he wants. Jis favorite foods. His favorite books.

Anything he even looks at for too long.

And remus loves him. so much.

So much. more than anything. more than his own life.

And isn’t that what sirius always wanted? to be loved? to be taken care of?

So really.if u rlly think abt it remus is acc a VERY morally correct person

And is giving him everything he ever needed.!!

But then suddenly siriuss smiling.

Suddenly he’s laughing at remus’s jokes.

Making his own jokes just like the old days

Suddenly he’s curling up against him on the couch like true lovers

And rjl is like yayyyy 🥰🥰I've won!!

Eexcpet maybe remus isnt the only manipulative 1 here

Maybe sirius is kissing him and whispering sweet things in his ear and maybe remus is eating that shit up a bit too much bc he wants smth and realizes the pwr he has over remus

(Mayberemus should have realized when sirius started asking questions about the locks.

Maybe he should have noticed the way sirius’s fingers lingered on the window latch.

Maybe he should have known when sirius stopped fighting back that he was just waiting.

Waiting. waiting.)

But that’s fine. because remus has always been very, very good at waiting too!!😊😊😊

But even so

How could he say no 2 sirius?

So he gets careless w the locks

And doesnt double enforce his windows

and then one night remus wakes up to an empty bed and an open door and suddenly he can’t breathe bc. oh.

Oh.

he’s gone. gone gone gone gonegone GONE GONE GoNE

BUT it’s fine. it’s fine. he’ll come back. he’ll come back.

He just has to give him a little space. after all.

Tey say if you love someone let them go.

If they come back it’s meant to be.

And if he doesn’t?

Well. remus has always been very good at finding things. 😊😊

After a bit tho he does get murdered by Sirius and james and they makeout on his grave bc yeah

#Tw inappropriate use of emojis and italics and the “.” and “!1!”punctuations #The delulu is high in this one #Also imp info when or if they fuck remus is being dominated by sirius

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cillianmurphysdimples · 9 hours ago

Text

A Female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Fifty Five)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, is all totally fictional, fanciful and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Fifty Five: Cillian takes control of a frightening situation and brings Y/N to the labour ward. Fears and anxiety are all that rule their minds, and Y/N begs of Cillian to do something he hasn't done for years - all for their baby girl. [Angst/Anxiety/Pregnancy Related Concerns]

@cherrycilly @whatcjdidnext @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @watermeezer @borntodiemp3 @strangeions @lavender-haze-01 @meadowshelby

A little warning for those who are triggered by pregnancy related content - I've used my story, but slightly altered. I had this experience at 30 weeks with my first child. Take care of your mental health and be warned now that this update contains mentions of potential baby loss, prematurity, and preterm labour.

If you weren't in so much pain, you might have been amazed at the speed with which Cillian flew up the stairs. He bangs the door and when you manage to call out that it's not locked, he flings it open with a fearful look and his eyes wild and wide. You don't care what you look like, and you thrust out your right hand to him. “Help me,” you cry, “It hurts… it's too early.”

He drops before you to his knees in a strange sort of crumble, and keeps hold of your hand. “Where's the pains?”

“All round my stomach,” you say, trying to keep the sobs to a minimum. He scans his eyes all over your face. “Call someone, this can't be Braxton Hicks, it hurts so much.” You are beginning to wonder if your anxiety has taken hold, amplifying everything. Surely it is just Braxton Hicks, it's too early for labour now. Your chest heaves and your heart races, and when each pain does subside you can feel the baby turn violently inside.

His hand tightens around yours. “I'll call the hospital, okay? I'll call the midwives and we'll go in. They'll check you out, they'll see what's happening.” He's calm in his voice but you know he's worried. He's pale and wide eyed still. He gets to his feet to drag his phone from his jeans pocket. “Your notes in the bedroom?” He asks. “I'll get them and come back, alright? I'll come straight back.”

“No, no, no… Cill, don't leave me.” You beg, knowing full well you're hysterical.

He gets closer to your face, bending at the waist, “I'm coming right back, I need your paperwork. I'm coming right back. I'm not leaving you.” he promises. “Have I ever not come back?”

You can barely see him through your tears. “You'll come back?” You ask, wincing against another tightening pain.

“I'll come back.” He pushes his lips hard against your sweating forehead and you loosen your grip on his hand. He sprints from the bathroom and into the bedroom and, as promised, he returns just as fast. Notes in hand, he sits on the edge of the bath at your side and swears under his breath as he dials with a shaking hand.

The pains are evening out - coming less frequently but just as painfully - and in that small amount of relief it offers, you try to gather your thoughts. How could a baby born at twenty three weeks possibly survive? If they did, how would that look? Tubes and wires? Incubators and medication, nurses and doctors holding her instead of you? And if by some miracle she was okay and survived, what would that mean for her life? Disabilities, learning delays, injuries…? But was the slowing of the pains a good sign? Did that mean that it wasn't labour, and just intense practice contractions? Or was it an actual labour event that had somehow stopped itself? You don't think your waters have broken - there's been no gush, no trickles, no blood. Surely that was all a good sign?

As another pain subsides, you look across to Cillian at your left side, staring at you as he speaks into his phone. “...okay? I don't know. No I don't fuc… I don't know! Straight in? Grand. Eh…right, no bother. Thanks.” he brings the phone down. “I've to pack you a bag and bring you in, they want to get you on the monitors. Did your waters break?”

He looks repulsed as he asks, but he looks more afraid than anything. You shake your head, “I don't think so…” you sniff. “You still won't leave?” You say, and you can feel the heat in your eyes returning as new tears begin. He reaches out his right hand, resting it against your shaking thigh.

He takes a deep breath. “I'm right here, Y/N.”

“Dad?” You hear Malachy yelling up the stairs, “Everything okay?”

“Call your Mum, Mal,” Cillian shouts back, “Youse may stay here for now but you'll have to have her take you home, I've to bring Y/N up to the Rotunda.”

“Shit… is the baby okay?” Malachy calls back out.

“Mal, ring your Mum!” Cillian shouts back, tetchy and anxious. Does that mean he doesn't think the baby is okay?

By the time Cillian's bat-out-of-hell driving gets you to the hospital, the pains are even further apart and a little less intense, but the feeling of tightness across your entire lower stomach is just as severe. You feel panicked and sick, hot and overwhelmed, and the fear that this is the moment you say goodbye to your baby girl is the only thing that fills your mind. Malachy and Aran had stared in horror as Cillian had walked you down the stairs, and you could see they knew you were both incredibly worried. Malachy had rung Yvonne, and he promised to lock up the house before they left. Both boys had wished you well. Clutching a bag with changes of clothes and toiletries and your notes, Cillian keeps his free hand on the small of your back as you walk. His trainers are on the wrong feet, and you hadn't grabbed a coat, but it doesn't matter to either of you as you enter the maternity department with a tearstained face and a threat of vomiting at your feet creeping higher. Approaching the desk, Cillian set the bag down and hands the notes over, “Its, eh, Y/N. I called before - you said…”

“Yes, Mister Murphy? It was me you spoke with. Nurse Hickman is expecting you. Take a seat in the waiting area and she'll be right out.” The receptionist says calmly. “If anything changes, you just call us.” She says to you, with a sympathetic look on her face as your face wrinkles at another tightening across your belly.

Picking the bag back up, Cillian again keeps his hand around your back as you walk towards the chairs a little way to the left of the desk. He waits until you're seated before he sits beside you and leaves the bag at his feet. As soon as he sits comfortably, you lay your head down against his shoulder, and he shifts a little to wrap his arm around your shoulders. He lays a kiss against the top of your head. “Whatever happens,” he whispers, and you can hear the fear. You nod your head against his shoulder, but you can't find words. Your head screams inside, though. Don't take my baby girl. I haven't even met her yet. Don't take my baby girl! “I'm here,” he tightens his arm around your shoulders. “I'm not leaving you.”

“Pray for her,” you mumble out. You've never been a religious person, and neither has Cillian in the time you've known him, but you're willing to try anything to ensure your baby girl's safety. “You have prayers, I know you do, I've seen your confirmation pictures. She's our baby girl - say those fucking prayers.” He hugs you closer still. You want to curl against him like an infant, just to have him that close, to have all that protective warmth and closeness, but you don't want to give yourself that sense of security if it'll be ripped from you when they tell you something bad.

The approach of footsteps pulls you apart and you look up at the tall, slim, middle-aged midwife that approaches. “Y/N? Hello pet, I'm Anne. C’mon, let's get you into a room and we'll have a listen to baby, will we?” She's sympathetic and calm, she's sweet and gentle, and you want to cry as she waits patiently for you and Cillian to get to your feet. She exudes maternal energy, and you feel a semblance of calm wash over you. You follow where she leads, and enter a small room with a bed, a small clear cot, and a foetal monitor. “Just hop up if you can, pet, and lift up your top. We'll put the monitors on, okay? Straps around and two small monitors to have a listen in to baby's heartbeat and they'll also tell us if these pains you're having are contractions or not.”

“If they are?” You ask, sitting back against the raised back of the bed with your tummy exposed. You sit forwards as she brings the pink and blue elasticated straps and wraps them around your back to fasten in the front with the small, round monitors.

“A bridge we'll cross…” Anne says quietly.

“She has fierce anxiety, you can't be doing that.” Cillian snaps at her. “If it's labour, then what?”

“Cill…” you shake your head.

“If it is a sign of labour, we can monitor for a while. If it looks as though the baby is on the way for sure, then there are medications we can give you to help the baby out for the early arrival.” Anne explains carefully. “But let's see what shape baby is in, and what these pains are first, and we'll act where we need to when we know.” She remains gentle, calm, and doesn't bat an eye at Cillian's attitude.

“It's too fucking early…” Cillian seems to have found a firm anger in fear, and you're not sure you like it. “...can't you give her something to stop the pain? If it's labour? Instead of letting that wee girl be born too early?”

“Mister Murphy, I appreciate that this is stressful, but we need to know what’s happening before we do anything. It'll do neither yourself nor Y/N any good to let this take you over.” Anne says calmly, giving Cillian her full attention for a moment. “C’mon, she needs you to be as calm as you can be to support her here.”

“Calm? How the fuck can I be calm? That wee baby shouldn't be being born yet and ye are listening into her heart instead of giving drugs to make sure she's not?” He snaps back at her, then covers his face with his hands. He's instantly sorry, you can see, but you know just how bad his verbal diarrhoea can be in his temper - evidently that extends to his temper borne of fear. “I'm sorry… I'm sorry…” he mumbles as he drops his hands.

“Let's see how the baby is doing,” Anne says as she turns to the machine beside the bed. “And monitor those pains. If there are labour contractions over the next ten minutes, the machine will display those and we'll be able to act as needed. If there is no sign of labour, then we can rule that this has been a scary run, but just a practice run.” She lays her hand against your shoulder. “Sit and relax as much as you can, Y/N, pet. I'll be back to check in ten minutes. But I'd anything changes, you can get us, okay?”

You watch her walk away, closing the door of the tiny room behind her, and you eye Cillian at the end of the bed - he's breathing deeply, his hands are shoved into his pockets, and he looks like he might faint. “The pains are less,” you say quietly. “That has to be a good thing, right?” You say, hopefully.

He purses his lips and nods slowly, “Fuck, I hope so.” The machine gives our loud sounds - your baby's beautiful heart beat being the most amazing one.

“I mean it, Cill.” You look at him sternly. “Sit on that chair and say the whole fucking rosary, I can't say goodbye to her before I even got to meet her.”

He sighs and shrugs his shoulders. “It'll be okay.” He says quietly.

“You don't know that.” You frown deeply. “And you don't believe that, either!” You accuse.

“Y/N,” he shakes his head and draws his hands from his pockets.

“I'm scared, Cillian.” Your chin quivers.

“I know,” he blinks slowly. “I know you are, I'm scared too.” He walks slowly up the side of the bed and lays his hand against your outstretched leg. “And I'm right here with you, I'm not leaving. You are not on your own.” He sighs deeply and you watch his tongue swipe over his lips nervously. He's shitting himself.

“What if we can't keep her?” You ask, your throat constricting each word. He shushes you quickly, shaking his head. “No, no! What if we can't? What if we can't keep her?”

His eyes are welling when he shakes his head again, “I don't know.” He mumbles, then bites his bottom lip. “I'm sorry.”

It's a little over ten minutes when Anne returns. She smiles softly as she walks over to the machine. “How are you doing, pet?” She asks gently.

“Better. No pain anymore, but just…tight?” You say, wondering if that's even the right thing to say.

Anne smiles, “Well that's good.” She says. The noise of the monitor is still firing with small bumps of kicks from Clíodhna and the whooshing of her heart. Anne lifts up the long printed paper from the feeder of the machine and studies it carefully. “Well, Y/N, you were definitely experiencing some signs of intense tightenings when we first set up the monitor, but I'm relieved to say that has all stopped.”

“Tightenings?” Cillian frowns. “So Braxton Hicks?”

“No,” Anne shakes her head.

“So…she was in labour?” He challenges, anger so near to the tip of his tongue you're worried he'll start in on her again.

“Not established labour, no.” Anne says gently. “And the good thing here….is that all of that activity has stopped. Your baby's heart is beating nicely, and the movements are wonderful, so I see no signs of distress at all.”

You feel awash with relief, but Cillian just seems annoyed. “No, no - I told you, we told you, and you just wanted to monitor her. She was in labour…”

“Cillian, stop…” You sigh. You understand his upset and concern, but not that he's aiming it at her in the form of his bitter tongue.

He looks at you like you've put an end to something of great importance. “Y/N?”

“She is fine. I am fine. Love, please.” You hold out your left hand to him, “Please?”

“Please what? We came in here terrified, and what we were fucking terrified of was actually happening. And now it's being brushed off because it's stopped? That's…” he grapples for his words.

“Exactly,” you say, taking his hand when he finally gives it. “Exactly, Cill, it's stopped. She's okay, and I'm okay. It has stopped. She's safe in there.” You squeeze his hand in yours. “Love please, don't lose it. I can't…I can't cope.” He squeezes your hand and huffs a deep breath before he nods his head once. He's not calm, but he won't blow. “Can I go home?” You ask, turning to Anne.

“Let's do another ten minutes, ensure everything's settled down fully, and then we'll get you on your way.” She says and touches your arm softly. “Can I get you some water?”

You shake your head, “Oh, no thanks, I was flooded with it before all of this.” You smile nervously and squeeze against Cillian's hand, hoping he takes the humour you meant. He smiles with his lips when you look at him, but his eyes are fierce and firm.

“Grand,” Anne smiles. “I'll come back in a little while, so.” She says, and slowly disappears from the room again.

“We were terrified.” He shakes his head, jaw tight, as soon as the door closes. “And right!”

“Cillian,” you close your eyes and rest your head back against the bed. “Love, please. I am exhausted - I'm tired, I'm sore, I think I'm going to wet myself if they don't finish this up and let me go for a wee, and I know you were scared. I'm not brushing your feelings off, I promise you. I know you were scared. But it has stopped - Clíodhna is fine, and I am fine, and we can go home and call the boys and tell them that everything is okay. Please, love, don't let anger be the dominant fucking emotion here because it's just a reactionary one.” He takes a deep breath, and evidently your words make him take a second look at himself. “As soon as we step out of those door, you can smoke a whole packet of cigarettes if it helps, love, and I won't say a word.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, smiling a little. He sighs again. “I'm sorry. I am scared - so scared. But you're right. The main thing now is that you're both okay.” He nods his head, and as a smile pulls at his right cheek softly, a dimple forms. “Both my girls.”

#cillian murphy #my fic #my fic: we got issues #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x y/n #reader fic #female reader #female y/n #female reader x Cillian Murphy #reader x Cillian Murphy #female y/n x Cillian Murphy #y/n x Cillian Murphy

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koofleur · 19 hours ago

Text

still with you

details ;

pairing: bsf!jungkook, speech impaired!oc, guitar buddies2l (my fav) summary: when he confesses to you and you press his heart tattoo in response type: oneshot wc: 1.9k

۶ৎ ♡ 국 ; nin's diary: this one's always special to my heart, i've changed the title to a more suitable one tho ;) enjoy!

skipping through the small pathway towards your home, sight scattering to the shops and bakeries that were open and the fresh aroma of Mr. Jeon’s baguettes made you automatically peep in through the glass door of the bakery you often visit after school hours. the old man noticed your doe eyes wide at the sight of the freshly baked delicacy as he stepped forward to open the door and let you in. Mr Jeon was like a guardian to you and your brother Jimin, ever since your parents sadly passed away in an accident. something that changed your life, something that made your world dark. you lost your ability to speak, but you could hear.

ever since, you barely mingled with others, but slowly your life changed when Mr. Jeon and his son Jungkook stepped into your life. you gained back your confidence and started to be a little more social and now everything in your life was perfect. with him. yes, you had this whole damn crush on the man who fixed you, being by your side. he made you believe in yourself, and that you were just like any other person out there.

"Come in dear, how was your day?"

Mr Jeon asked, his fatherly warmth making you crack up a smile. You settled yourself on the wooden table as he placed a plate of fresh snacks in front of you and you looked so ready to dig in. Mr Jeon chuckled and patted your head with affection, placing himself on a chair next to you. You had picked up sign language pretty quickly, and all the people you know would understand you, and you felt really lucky for that.

[ the sign languages would be put in between asterisks (*) and in bold italics for better understanding ]

*I had a pretty good day, Mr. Jeon. Jungkook taught me guitar today during the music session* You smiled, taking a bite of the macaroons in front of you.

“That’s great, I’d like to hear you play one day." Mr. Jeon winked and the both of you giggled.

Just then the cafe started filling up with music, and you knew exactly who it was. It’s Jungkook’s habit to turn on music as soon as he comes into his dad’s cafe. You turned around, immediately spotting him, a leather jacket hung on his shoulder his tattooed hand on display through the short sleeves of the black t-shirt he wore,

“Hey there, m’lady”

Jungkook waved at you, taking a seat in front of you as an exhausted sigh left his lips. Both of you being best friends by now, you were used to these nicknames that he called you. Just a small change though, whenever he called you these, your heart would skip a beat, and your eyes filled with love, in its purest form.

“Jungkook, why don’t you come in a bit early and help me here, you know I’m not getting any younger.”

Mr. Jeon said, as you scoffed a little, side eyeing the pouty man in front of you.

“Dad.. I went out with my friends.. NOW before you say anything, we had practice. Some of them are coming here too so I wanted to let you know that we’ll need extra food”

He smiled cheekily, and you saw Mr. Jeon glaring at him before walking away.

*Jungkook, did you see Jimin anytime after class? I didn’t get to meet him today* You signed to Jungkook as he replied

“Yeah, he’s coming here along with a couple of our friends today.”

He said, looking away from you, with a smile on his face. You felt something off about him today, usually he’d just talk for hours to you, but even while he was teaching you to play guitar back at school, he absolutely avoided any eye contact. To be honest, you really wanted to make a move as it’s Valentine’s day, seeing a lot of couples celebrating everywhere, even at school. But you’re not confident enough. What if he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore? “He deserves a lot more” these thoughts were just fully occupying your head, you’re overthinking was pricking your heart a lot. So you just sat there in front of Jungkook, munching on the food, but thoughtfully placing a macaron in his mouth as he went through his phone.

The door of the cafe swung open, and a group of boys scuttled in, along with your brother Jimin. “Y/N !!!” He squealed and took you in a hug, after a long tiring day. He was such a supportive and understanding brother, and a very good friend of Jungkook.

*Jimin, who are they? I've never seen them with you or Jungkook before* You queried as the latter looked at the boys behind him and back to you

. "They're our new buddies. We actually enrolled in a music academy nearby, you remember? The one I always wanted to go to."

*You really did that and I didn't know huh? I'm not talking to you* You made an angry face and Jimin pinched your cheeks.

"You would know sooner or later, pie." He giggled, making you shift from the "angry mode".

"Hey mate, who's this?" One of the boys who were seated at another table came forward and asked Jimin, the others following suit.

"This is my one and only sister, Park Y/N." He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you smiled at them.

"Pie, meet Jaemin, Baekhyun and Mark." You bowed at them and one of the guys, Baekhyun spoke

"Damn, let her speak buddy, conversation is the key, ya know?"

Jimin glared at his friend while you looked around, feeling suffocated all of a sudden. It took you so much time to leave the past in an unattended corner of your heart, and made sure you never slipped into it again, but with those insecurities that occurred in your head not so long ago, and the statement “conversation is the key” started ringing in your head, a pang hitting your heart.

But all of a sudden, a strong hand wrapped around yours and on looking up, you found Jungkook looking at you with worried eyes.

“Uh, guys we’ll be back alright? I gotta give her an um, guitar class yeah we’ll see you around.”

He dragged you out of the cafe, hands still securely wrapped around yours.

“Uh-huh, why’s he so awkward?”

Baekhyun turned to Jimin, who was still throwing daggers at him. Yes, they never knew about you, but Jimin found you unusually affected by Baekhyun’s words, and that angered him.

“She’s speech impaired.” Jimin’s words hit the latter like a truck, as he mumbled “shit”

“Buddy, look I really didn’t know, I’m so sorry damn how can I make it up?”

———

Jungkook started his black bike that was parked a little far away from the cafe and handed you a helmet and his jacket. “Hold tight, alright? Don’t let go.” Simple sentence, but a great impact. Your slender arms encircled his well built waist, you could feel his abs through the flimsy material of the shirt he wore. The smell of his hit your senses, as a crimson tint spread through your soft cheek skin. For a moment, even though your thoughts screamed this won’t last for long, you felt calm with the wind brushing your hair backwards but little did you know, Jungkook had his gaze on your ethereal figure

that clung on to him tightly and he wished he could hold you close. And that was going to happen.

He stopped near an open area, a little too high from the ground but you could care less. All you needed is some fresh air, and this felt perfect, with the setting sun and the man you love with you.

You were about to sit down there on the slightly dirty grass, when his hands gently removed the leather jacket around your figure and wrapped it around your waist as you wore a white skirt all along. You were flabbergasted at how he noticed all such tiny things, and you felt so in love.

You both sat silently, but a million thoughts in your minds. Even if you didn’t speak, he felt you through your eyes. He knows you inside out. Jungkook scooted closer to you and took your hand in his.

“Look Y/N, I know, this might not be the right moment and heck today is Valentine’s day, and I wanted it to be grander but I think you really need to know this”

You raised an eyebrow, your eyes on his. He sighed a little before speaking;

“I love you, I want you to be a part of me, my heart, forever.” Your eyes widened and heart picked up it’s pace as if it was longing to reach home, your home, which is the man right in front of you.

Your insecurities backing away at his confession, you couldn’t even take your hands out of his grip. And you thought of a way to reciprocate your feelings.

Your thumb slightly traced up till his heart tattoo that was inked on the back of his hand and gently pressed it, still looking into his eyes. Him being the man who noticed all the tiny things, smiled fondly at your cute way of confessing back, as he joined your foreheads together.

“Damn princess, I’m just out of words, I love you so much. And what you did just now, it’s gonna be our thing. And don’t ever worry nor have any insecurities, it’s your world and I’m just a part of it but I promise to protect you forever.”

His pinky finger was intertwined around yours as his other hand went up to your cheek, caressing it.

“May I, love?” You nodded as his lips were on yours in no time.

He understood you no matter what and you saw all the colors of love in his eyes.

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topthreedetectives · 2 days ago

Text

ace attorney x pokemon teams! (mostly investigations characters but with phoenix wright)

warning! yapping incoming!

these were all formulated with everything up to aa4 + investigations 1 and 2 in mind as i have not played past that yet! i've already made raymond shields/eddie fender's pokemon team so that doesn't show up here- but it exists!!

before i go into the teams, in this universe the prosecutor and defense attorney badges have been replaced to look more like these pokemon (this is important for later)

now, the investigator himself:

his doublade was given to him by his father before his passing. yes, it is a sword pokemon referencing his last name, but it also has outstanding defensive and offensive strategies. it used to be a defense attorney's pokemon, so it only makes sense that it's a good defender, too! miles himself has proven to be skilled at both as well. (also if you look at my other post about ray's team, his aegislash is related to miles' doublade!)

his gallade was also given to him back when it was a kirlia, but from manfred von karma instead of his father. it is yet another blade pokemon, and similarly to doublade, specializes in both offense and defense. it can defend others with its arm blades, but it can also use them to deal devestating blows very quickly

skarmory is another sharp mon, given to him by manfred. i have less reasoning for this one compared to the other blades, i just think it looks like a mon miles would own. i see it as his fly mon that he uses when it's more convenient to fly via bird than with a private jet (as long as it isn't raining)

his ninetales was also a gift from manfred, given to miles when it was a vulpix. it's very intelligent and fits the whole elegant thing he's got going on

it's hard for me to explain with words why he has an espeon but i mean. of COURSE he has an espeon. yk?? back in elementary, he found three abandoned eevee with larry and phoenix. they each decided to convince their families to let them have one, and miles' later evolved into espeon

finally his dartrix! it was given to him by gregory when it was a rowlet. not only do they have the same hair and similar fancy neck accessories, but they are both extremely precise with their attacks- until they aren't. dartrix spend a lot of time making sure they look their best and get distracted if something about their appearance needs fixing, and that feels very miles edgeworth to me

he also has some pet pokemon!!

the rockruff and shiny sinistea were his and his father's pets, and the persian was from von karma.

as you've probably noticed, most of his mons were given to him or passed down from his father figures. the only exception is espeon

next, that man...

he has a pidgeot that he mega evolves, and while i could say it makes sense to be there because it's a common route 1 bird, i'm going to be completely upfront and say its only actual reason for being on his team is the matching hair lmao

his sylveon was one of the eevee he found with miles and larry. it's the perfect eeveelution for him!!! picturing feenie with a sylveon is the cutest fucking thing ever i love them <3

arcanine are very loyal and protective, and they aren't the kind of mon to shy away from danger- very on par with phoenix. it also parallels miles' ninetales

he got his goomy shortly before the feenie trial, and it's the whole reason he got sick in the first place (he didn't realize just how germy goomy were)

yet another mon i can't quite explain the placement of, he has a cinderace. do you see the vision.

lastly, togedemaru. silly spiky hedgehog mon. need i say more.

next up, the butz-

his smeargle makes art with him and they each help each other hone their skills. he got it as soon as he set his mind to becoming an artist, and they've been inseparable since

he has a magikarp and a feebas because he thinks gyarados looks super cool and strong and milotic would be perfect to have as a model for his art. he can't evolve his pokemon to save his life though, so it's doubtful they will ever achieve their final form. he still loves them, though

there is ONE pokemon he's managed to evolve, which was his umbreon. it was one of the eevee he found with miles and phoenix. the one mon on his team he could evolve was the one that only required a strong friendship. speaking of, you may or may not have noticed that miles, phoenix, and larry's eevee all evolved via friendship......

his wimpod is not only just as cowardly as him, but it also spits out poisonous liquid when startled. that liquid happens to be very smelly, and when something smells... well, you know the rest! he really wants it to evolve into a super cool mon, but despite its inability to do so under larry's training, he still cares for it

he has a luvdisc that he brings around on his first dates for him and whoever he's with at the time to "discover" together. he does it to bring good luck to his relationships, as it is believed to bring about everlasting love between couples who see it. this, however, is obviously fiction, considering his relationships last for a couple months at best, despite his efforts

even in the depths of night, when no other bird dares to take flight!

she has two corvid pokemon. corvisquire are known to use tools (cough cough little thief) and murkrow love anything shiny. i considered giving her a tinkatuff for a short time, until i remembered that she would probably hate that entire line for opposing the corviknight line lmao

floragato is mischievous, dexterous, and likes to pull pranks every now and then. they are GREAT friends, and their antics oftentimes raise poor dadworth's anxiety to a dangerous degree. also, fun fact, kay is a cat person!! ...well, she's more of a bird person, but she does still like cats!

her gengar was inherited from her father. similar to floragato, it is mischievous and likes to pull pranks. it is also very stealthy and likes to hide in the shadows

frogadier is a ninja pokemon, so of course kay would love it! they are very skilled climbers and possess many cool ninja-like skills kay would be obsessed with. they train frequently together

finally her zorua, another mischievous mon. it can create illusions and disguise itself, and that would make it a great team member for the yatagarasu!

lang zi says: HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWL!

LOTS. OF. DOGGIES.

as i was making his team, i was concerned having only dogs/wolves would be a little boring or too obvious. after some reflection, i realized lang would 100% only have canine pokemon on his team so i stopped worrying about it

these mons are fierce, loyal, and care for their pack. they all fit very well! they can all howl at the moon with lang and bark at anyone who gets in the way of his investigation. except lycanroc. dusk form lycanroc don't really bark, but lang and the rest more than make up for it

oh? what's this? i'm giving luxray to yet another one of my favorite characters? yes, yes i am. and what're you gonna do about it?! i am unstoppable!!!! i know luxray is more of a lion than a wolf but that shiny is just too perfect. it's still sort of a 'pack' animal anyway so the luxray stays!! i like to imagine it's a bit of an outcast when it comes to other luxray because it acts more 'dog'-like than the others. lang noticed it was rejected from its own 'pack' and took it in in a heartbeat. while unable to exactly howl or bark, it does its best and lang still sees no difference between it and the rest of the pack (lang zi says: trans rights!)

he's also raising a houndoor pup which i think is adorable <3

detective gummy time, pal!

i completely forgot about this until a few days ago, but jake marshall gave him a cactus to talk to about all of his problems. in this universe, the cactus he gave gumshoe was actually a cacnea

he has a yamper nicknamed missile, of course! it's not really fully his since it's a police dog, but they have a really close bond and it's practically his at this point

he has a gumshoos because.... gumshoos.... gumshoe.... get it............. really though they are both very determined and not easily gotten rid of, and both can withstand being very very hungry, which gumshoe has to do often because miles keeps docking his pay. he never lets his mons go hungry, of course! just a lil thing they have in common (poor scruffy)

his fidough helps him make dough for noodles so he can cook homemade ramen. this helps him save money when he needs to and he can spend quality time with his lil guy in the process!

his magnemite acts as his metal detector in universe and is a police mon. like yamper, it's ended up being more of gumshoe's pokemon than the police's

palafin. palafin. pal. afin. ....... outside of the name though, it's very loyal and will do whatever it takes to help out its friends when they're in trouble. when it really needs to pull through, it will! just like gummy <3

make way, foolish fools! it's fran time!

obligatory vine whip mon, a shiny servine. it whips its foes relentlessly and is very prideful. due to its pride, it doesn't like to work with others and takes a long time to warm up to people and pokemon. very franny like, if i do say so myself

she has a shiny gardevoir that was given to her as a kirlia by her father, and it was given to her at the same time as miles' kirlia. she mega evolves it in battle

her shiny starmie is a symbol of her being a prosecutor, and she specifically went on a mission to find a shiny. i think she'd be a shiny hunter in this universe! feels very in character for her. i like to think her shiny obsession started when manfred gave her the shiny kirlia

her shiny galarian rapidash is also very prideful and fearless, and is one of the reasons she is referred to as a "wild mare" by others. she preferred the shiny, so she GOT the shiny

her alolan ninetales was given to her by manfred at the same time as miles' ninetales (both were vulpix at the time), and they are very close. it is a very calm and collected mon, and it helps franziska feel more at ease when the pressure of everything starts to get to her

the alolan persian was yet another mon given to her by her father at the same time as miles' persian. it's one of the many prideful mons franziska has, and it's also very hard to work with- unless your name is franziska von karma, of course!

(last few! spoilers for aai2, in case you haven't played it yet)

now, debeste team for debeste prosecutor!

he has a kricketune to conduct for, and they play music for his quaxwell to dance to. they like to put on shows for others to marvel at (their performances leave much to be desired, though.) he and his quaxwell both put a lot of effort into their hair (canon!), and a part of their morning routine is spending hours in front of the mirror together to perfect it. they also both put a lot of effort into their work, even if their prosecuting and dancing skills.... leave a lot of room for improvement

his leafeon has MATCHING QUESTION MARK HAIR OH MY GOD. i knew i wanted to give him an eeveelution because he 100% had an eevee, and when i saw leafeon. i nearly exploded.

he has a bulbasaur because "its pokedex number is #1, that means it's the best pokemon!" he gave it an eviolite and makes sure it's always carrying it

the cubone cries VERY often just like him, and i like to think that once sebby comes to terms with his father being horrible and lets a lot of that baggage go, the cubone grows from the experience, too, and evolves with him (im not crying theres just something in my eyes i swear)

he's got a deino, and to be completely honest, it's there because of the matching hair. what can i say, it's too perfect to pass up!!

prepare for the goddess of law's righteous judgement!

yes, she has a legendary virizion- shiny, at that!! i figured if anyone would have a legendary on their team it would be her. it's a sword of justice, after all. it's also the most intelligent of the swords of justice trio. ALSO. in pokemon reburst, the swords of justice are captured by GREAT GAVEL. as in verity gavelle. anyway-

dragonair are known as the "divine pokemon", and in this universe the blue gems on justine's clothes are meant to represent the blue crystals on dragonair

the flowers worn by yellow florges are the 'lion lilies' in this universe. they are protective and devote themselves to what they see as important. for florges, this is its flowerbed, and to verity, it's the law

leavanny care deeply for younger pokemon and are very parental. they would both do anything it took to protect their children, even if it meant going against the goddess of law herself

her shiny delphox.... i'm just gonna leave one of its pokedex entries and a segment from justine's fandom page here:

"it leaves burn marks in the ground with the flame at the tip of its wand. long ago, people used the shapes of these burn marks for divination."

"when gavelle investigates crime scenes, she sometimes swings her gavel, hitting the floor and leaving marks."

lastly, her bronzor is based on the yata no kagami. the badge judges wear in japan is based on it, and it's also the basis for verity's japanese name, mikagami, which means water mirror. the mirror is a symbol of god-like wisdom, honesty, and the truth. bronzor are said to reflect the truth, being based on the yata no kagami and all. they were literally made for each other. it's the perfect mon.

nowaynowaynowayyyyyy! it's mr monkey man!

he OBVIOUSLY has the do no evil monkeys on his team, he's literally the three of them stacked in a clown costume (his simipour is evolved because LOOK AT IT. they are the same)

speaking of clown, he has a mr mime. no need to elaborate

his alolan meowth is the one that becomes an armrest instead of the regular cat. alolan meowth are selfish and manipulative, and become hysterical if things go south for them. sound familiar?

his slakoth is there to keep up his silly harmless guy persona, but it later evolves into vigoroth to beat the absolute shit out of him once his true nature is revealed

thanks for coming to my tedtalk <3

if you have any suggestions for the current teams or teams for characters i haven't created yet, i'd love to hear them!

#ace attorney #pokemon #ace attorney pokemon #aai2 #aa investigations #ace attorney investigations #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #larry butz #kay faraday #shi long lang #dick gumshoe #franziska von karma #sebastian debeste #eustace winner #verity gavelle #justine courtney #simon keyes #simeon saint #my raymond shields/eddie fender team is already posted!! if you wanna look at it i used the ace attorney pokemon tag for it :DD #this took SEVERAL HOURS to write out and multiple days of team brainstorming #how the hell wasnt i diagnosed with autism sooner what were my parents thinking #not putting shinx or luxio on sebbys team took so much restraint you really have no idea #also just found out fender calls eustace “weiner kid” in the official translation im losing my shit thats so fucking funny #sorry knightley fans i swear i tried but all i could think of was rapidash and that one alolan horse i forgot the name of #i will almost certainly have a team for him in the future tho #in the meantime if you have any ideas for his team (or someone else's!) i wouldnt be opposed to suggestions!!#there are 2592 WORDS MY GOD #ive never written this much for anything not even for essays #this was so incredibly long if you read the whole thing tysm ily

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