#i do wonder which side of the bed they sleep on...its against the wall

[starbluethunder]

got asked how they sleep in the same bed together with riptides humongous tail. obviously they dont always sleep glued together like this but i used this as an excuse to draw them cuddling

[faemurmur]

-> soft yandere caleb hcs:

1. “you’re mine. you said so.” you get busy—miss a call, forget a text—and when you finally answer, his voice is calm, too calm. “i waited. for hours.” you apologize, sweetly, teasingly even, but he doesn’t laugh. “you promised you’d always be there, remember? don’t break your promises. i… don’t handle that well.” and later, when he holds you close, you feel the way his hands tremble slightly against your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

2. his name in your phone has a lock emoji. -> he changed it himself. he also disabled the option to delete his contact. “just in case someone thinks they can slide into your messages,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “they’ll know who you belong to.”

3. he tracks you. -> not in a creepy way (okay maybe a little), but he has your location always. and when he sees you’re somewhere unexpected, he texts immediately: “what are you doing there?” ……you ask how he knew. “because you’re mine pipsqueak, and i need to know you’re safe. that’s not too much to ask, is it?” and the look in his eyes? he’d burn the whole galaxy just to get you back home.

4. he doesn’t like you being friends with your ex-> at all. he doesn’t raise his voice. doesn’t tell you not to. he just shuts down emotionally, turns icy and unreadable. it’s bound with his actions though… he would probably still do everything acts of service wise. but he wants you to understand something is wrong, wants you to probe… and when you confront him, he finally murmurs, “i don’t want to be second choice to anyone. i want to be your only. and if that’s too much—” you cut him off with a kiss. you have to. because his voice was starting to sound a little unhinged and a little too honest.

5. he locks the door when you argue.-> not to trap you essentially (which he thinks he isn’t doing…) just to make sure you don’t leave. “we’re not going to sleep angry pips,” he says, softly. “you don’t walk away from me. not when we love each other this much baby.” and when you calm down, he pulls you into his lap, arms like iron around you, and whispers again and again, “mine. mine. mine.”

6. he doesn’t like you dressing up for anyone but him.-> you put on a new outfit, stunning, radiant—and his jaw clenches. why are you so breath-taking my gorgeous he thinks… no wonder he wants a world with just the two of you. “who’s that for?” / “me,” you say, innocent. but he steps closer, cups your jaw gently, possessively. “next time, wear it only when we’re alone. i don’t want anyone else seeing what’s mine. or~ you’d hate how i become and say something like i killed your old caleb.”

7. his anger is unpredictable.->when someone flirts with you in front of him, he doesn’t start a fight. but sometimes the look in his eyes speaks more than words ever could. maybe he will break their bones when you leave, maybe he will let it slide. who knows what caleb’s mood dictates him to do. sometimes, he just smiles. and later, when you’re home, he pins you softly to the bed, hands on either side of your head.“do you want them?” he asks, voice flat. “because i can make sure they never speak to you again.” and you— you tell him it’s just him. it’s always been him. like a prayer, like a chanting to balm his rage. and he finally kisses you like a starved man, whispering “good girl.”

8. he deletes numbers from your phone.->you’ll never notice. he’s too smooth. but people you used to talk to? stop replying. and when you ask caleb, he just shrugs with a soft smirk, “maybe they realized they could never compete with me.” and then changes the subject with a kiss and that dangerous look in his eyes again…. this isn’t out of sheer possessiveness though its just out of trust issues.

9. he doesn’t like letting you sleep mad at him.-> you try to turn away in bed, still upset. away from him… back on his face like an iron wall. but he slides his arms around you from behind, strong and unyielding.“no. you don’t get to walk away from me in your sleep, either.” and you can feel how serious he is. “we fix this now, angel. i’ll do anything. but you don’t leave.”

10. he has nightmares about losing you.-> he never tells you the full details either. just that he wakes up shaking, pale, and pulls you into his lap, holding you so tightly it almost hurts. “i saw you leaving me,” he whispers into your neck. “don’t ever do that. i wouldn’t survive it.”

[genderless-naper]

half asleep

trafalgar law x gf!reader

themes: sleepy reader, pillow humping, assisted orgasm w/ fingering, some sweet talk, desperation

waking up in the middle due to the cold couldn’t stop your mind from thinking dirty thoughts. law decides to help you when he sees you humping his pillow while you’re half-asleep

smut, wc: 1.4k, lowercase intended !

⇣ credits to original artist (gokujounomaguro)

the coolness of the polar tang wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with. this particular night though was freezing cold. being wrapped up in a blanket with your lover wasn’t enough to keep you from waking up and shivering.

you look around the room hardly awake. you lifted your head from your boyfriend’s chest and looked at the clock which read 4am. you glanced up at law, who was slightly sat up, starring at the wall seeming to be lost within his own intricate thoughts. why he was awake at 4am was beyond your comprehension.

the sudden movement caused from you sitting up in bed made him look at you. surprised, he spoke to you in a soft tone, “oh you’re awake y/n? did you have a bad dream?”

you shook your head and muttered, “its freezing law. you don’t feel that??” you rubbed the sleep out your eyes.

once understanding the situation law responded, “i’ll get an extra blanket and a sweater for you. i’ll get some water too y/n-ya.” law preceded to wrap you in the single blanket that was not able to do you justice in the cold.

law makes his way out the room to fulfill your needs. you laid in bed wrapped in your blanket. the pillow next to you was positioned vertically. most likely from law moving it to sit up while you were asleep. you rolled to your side and lifted a leg to wrap around it.

your closed eyes couldn’t stop your mind from wondering. the picture of law still painted in your mind from when you woke up. something about his chest tattoo peeking through his shirt’s collar and his serious gaze as he was lost in thought. it all made him so handsome.

thoughts of your absent lover swirled in your mind, and made your body warm. you tightened your leg around the pillow to feel it press against your clothed core. you bit your lip as you proceeded to shift your hips back and fourth to rub the cloth core. the slight friction between you and the pillow was enough to part your lips and moan quietly. your pace slightly quickened, but it was still done with lethargic energy. as good as it felt you could still feel like you were about to fall back to sleep.

so distracted by your current task you failed to see your boyfriend walk into the room after getting the things you needed. he was taken aback from the sight of you rocking your hips against his pillow.

maybe it was his scent on the pillow that made it feel all the more better. either way it was obvious you were trying to reach a climax of pleasure. your laziness prevented you from being able to reach that point, so you drowsily humped law’s pillow hoping to reach an orgasm one way or another.

law makes his way over to you. he lets you continue your activity as he lays out a bigger blanket over your smaller one. it was heavy, so it weighed you down and staggered your already desperate attempts of satisfaction.

law sits back in bed and shares the blankets with you. your frustration from not being able to please yourself enough was starting to get to you. you shove the pillow to the other side and pull yourself closer to law.

law looked at his used pillow to see a wet spot from where you used to satisfy your core. it earned a chuckle from the man, “did you have fun y/n?” he clearly wanted to tease you.

you whined and rubbed your thighs together desperate for some kind of friction, “i can’t feel good.. too tired..”

law pulled you closer and let you rest your head on his chest, “do you need help so you can feel good? you just woke up so it might be harder for you to do it on your own.”

you nod tiredly. eyes barely opened you take law’s hand into your own, and pulled it under the blanket and towards your thighs.

law pushed your rubbing thighs opened, and ran his fingers against your cloth core. he could feel the outline of your pussy because your pants stuck against the wetness so well. it exposed you to your boyfriend’s fingers even though you were covered.

the new attention given to your core made you whimper. heading you made law feel bad for you, “don’t worry baby. i’m gonna help you feel good.”

you nodded mindlessly ready to take whatever your boyfriend was willing to do to your sleepy self.

his hand slowly made its way into your panties. you naturally spread your thighs more in order to grant him access. law appreciated your cooperation, “just relax and i’ll do the work. i’ll make sure you feel good y/n-ya.”

like a cue law began to brush his fingertips against your clit gently for you to adjust to it. the feeling if your boyfriend touching such an intimate part of you cause electricity to circulate inside you. he could make you feel good by doing the bare minimum.

law’s 2 fingers started in a circular motion around your clit. he circled around where he knew would be the most sensitive. he wanted to stimulate you as much as possible.

you shut your eyes completely letting the man do what he pleased in order for you to reach your peak. the sensations from your core travelled throughout your body pulling it closer to an edge.

law applied more pressure to his fingers tips. he slowed down his circular motions around your clit, and decided to start flicking motions. he moved his finger back and fourth against your sensitive bud. this earned slight moans from you.

law whispered encouragements into your ears, “you’re doing so good y/n-ya. i bet it feels good too doesn’t it sweetheart?”

you nodded to the man’s words sweet words as his fingers made you feel pleasures you would’ve never accomplished on your own with a pillow.

law continued, “you looked so gorgeous earlier. i wish i could always see you humping my pillow like that.” law abandoned your clit and made his fingers to your opening. his fingers naturally became coated in your core’s wetness.

you bit your lip, “i-i looked gorgeous?”

law hums, “absolutely beautiful. next time you should hump my thigh like that baby. i’d rather you use me than just my pillow.”

as law spoke he steadily pushes two fingers into your opening. the sudden action made you feel strangely full. you body naturally responded by rocking your hips against the fingers.

law continued his praises, but they went in through one ear and out the other. your mind felt absent while your body took in the pleasures of law’s long fingers pressing against your walls. you felt them go in and out, and you imagined his finger tattoos becoming covered because they repetitively make their way inside of you.

your whimpers start to become more vocal as your body climbed towards your climax. law continued to penetrate you with his two fingers, but skillfully used his thumb to rub your clit. he knew his actions were doing numbers on you by the way your body naturally tensed up, and how you became more vocalized.

you bit your lip, “law it feels so good, i-i think im close~”

law hums and quickens his pace, “then cum for me baby. i wanna hear you moan my name. who’s the only one who can make you feel this good?”

your body slightly arched up as your orgasm crept upon you. you moaned his name loudly, “law you make me feel so good! only you can make me feel so amazing~”

your orgasm washed over you turning you into a shaky moaning mess. you tightened around law’s fingers. he could feel his fingers inside of you become coated in your juices again. he pulled them out of your core and panties. he voluntarily sucked your juices off his fingers not wanting to waste a single drop.

you drew yourself closer to the man. you started to feel the exhaustion of the orgasm bearing over you. law found your middle-of-the-night horniness compelling. he also thought it made you cuter. knowing that he was the first thought on your mind after you woke up was satisfying for him.

law kissed your hair, “you should go back to sleep now sweetheart. it’s late.”

you barely responded, already on your path towards the realm of slumber, “you have to sleep too…”

law hums and gets comfortable with you by his side. he pulls your pillow so you two can share since you discarded of his earlier. he’d have to add washing his pillowcase to his to-do tasks for the next day.

masterlist

[randomshyperson]

hiii😸

i wanna request wanda with hugs no. 31😻 ur fluff is so good i want to bash my head into the wall

/pos

hope u get free from ur writer's block!!😻

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

prompt: hugging while straddling the partner | words: 2066k | warnings: (+18), dark(ish)!wanda, smut, bottom!reader, dom!wanda mainly, implied variant death sorry, but happy ending for the main.

a/n-> this is the last one actually, i got my drafts confused if you saw more in the masterlist you didn't. i won't be posting anything for a while now just to write new series but I won't be gone for long I hope.

challenge masterlist | general masterlist

-&-

Considering all the things that had happened until she reached this moment, Wanda expected there to be more noise.

Fighting. Or even pain.

Two years and six hundred and eighty-four universes and she had finally found you.

Not a fallen hero version, not an evil clone, not a dead wife.

Just you, available, alive and asleep.

The room was dimly lit by the rays of sunlight that passed through the half-open curtain. Her variant must have gotten up early to prepare breakfast, and Wanda took complete control before she could even open the door. She took in little of the room, mostly focused on your sleeping figure in the bed in the corner, peaceful and vulnerable.

Five universes ago a variant of you had tried to arrest her for crimes against the multiverse, so this calmness was quite the bonus.

She quickly inspected the most recent memories before the deepest ones. This Wanda didn't know she loved you like that, not yet. Young and naive, this variant was rewarded with an entire childhood and adolescence by your side. Friends since kindergarten, the deep intimacy between you was beautiful to watch. Easy to envy.

It was a sadistic joke that in all the universes, she was the only one having a miserable life.

Controlling her own irritation, Wanda pushed those memories away and sighed deeply. You moved, searching for her warmth in the mattress and she wondered if your variant was already sure of what she knew many universes ago. You were made for each other.

She watched you with some curiosity. She still wasn't sure how she would do it. She hardly had a clear plan. She took very deliberate actions now, which was probably why she always ended up with some wizard on the way, close to some interdimensional prison.

But as you woke up, Wanda felt around that reality. There was magic like most, but it wasn't as strong even in the body she occupied now. This Wanda was a beginner witch, with simple levitation or tarot tricks that she could use to make you laugh in admiration.

Your sleepy figure finally opened its eyes, felt the bed, turned your face, and faced her standing in the middle of the room. Wanda felt so small, not at all like the great Scarlet Witch. She was almost like a child, eager to please. To be liked. When you frowned at her, she wondered if you were already able to tell she was a fraud, an impostor.

But your expression softened, and you chucked hoarsely.

 "Were you watching me sleep? Creep."

Oh, you had no idea.

Wanda swallowed, forcing a chuckle. "I wasn't." She lies quickly, pushing away emotional nausea as your tousled-haired, sleepy-eyed figure brings back similar memories of a life she doesn't know how to get back. She clears her throat and looks away so you don't see the tears welling up in her eyes. "I was just going to get breakfast. Do you want anything?"

"Yeah." You chuckle relaxedly, patting the mattress as you rest your elbows on the bed, your back against the headboard. "Come back to bed. It's too damn early."

She sees it then, when the sheet loses in your body and she catches a glimpse of your neck full of purple marks. The most recent memories are indeed different from what she searched for before. Peeking again, it's a bit overwhelming to be invaded by the sensations of your kisses and groping all at once, a night of steamy making out in that bed, after a college party that ended long after the time you and the variant returned to this dorm. Wanda sighs, realizing that this body misses your touch just as much as she does. So addictive for every single one of her, no matter the universe.

But her silence brings a hesitation to your face, and you settle better in bed. 

"Hey, if this is about last night..." You begin, a little awkwardly with a nervous giggle. One of your hands pushes your hair back in a nervous gesture, and Wanda gasps softly. The tattoo on her forearm has very familiar symbols. She searched every corner of the multiverse and ended up with a punk covered in protective runes. This was Strange's work, of course. He was probably going to as many worlds as she was. Protecting variants before Wanda could reach them. Take them for herself. You, oblivious to the whole thing, kept talking. "It's okay if you regret it. We don't even have to talk about it if it's weird. I mean, if you want we can even go back to being just friends, I definitely don't want to lose-"

"You're not." She cuts you off, taking steps towards the bed. You fall silent in surprise, but Wanda forces a smile. "Where did you get that tattoo again?"

You frown at the sudden change of subject, stammering a little as you try to remember and then finally laugh, looking at her with some confusion. "It's just reindeer, remember? That strange woman made it for us at the beach last week. It should go away soon."

Wanda searched a little more and found the memory you mentioned. Beach, friends, witches she didn't know, that this variant didn't know how to perceive yet. A witch using the opportunity to draw protective spells on your skin as if she could read the danger in your future.

She took a deep breath and walked closer until she felt her shins hit your bed.

"Maybe you should take it off now."

You hum absently, looking at the tattoo. "Why? I liked it. You also said it was pretty. Maybe I could even make it permanent-"

"No!" She snaps back through gritted teeth, startling you a little. Forcing a smile then, Wanda considers the options. She probably can't mess with your memory right now, maybe she can keep you calm, until she finds an appropriate solution. "I just... I think your first tattoo should be something more meaningful, sweetheart. And not some cheap art from a charlatan, huh?"

You frown, before your chucle again, looking at her with confusion. "Wanda, are you high?" We got our first tattoos together in high school. Have you really forgotten that?" You look upset. Wanda hates this. Hates it with all her might. Out of everything she’s ever done, hurting you is probably the most painful and stupid thing she ever did.

She shakes her head, forcing a giggle. She bends her knees and crawls towards you, which immediately wipes the frown off your face.

Young people and their hormones.

“Oh, babe, I just got confused. I’m sorry.” She begins, and you swallow hard as she takes her place on your lap. Your hands hesitate on the mattress until Wanda grabs them and moves to her waist. “Don’t be upset.”

With your mouth dry, you try, “I’m not.” but it comes out so hoarse that Wanda wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t been so close. Her hands close behind your head, and you wait for her to make the first move like the good girl you’ve always been no matter what universe.

Wanda shouldn’t risk it, but she can’t resist. You seem so eager for her to do it too that she doesn’t have the heart not to. The kiss starts out innocent, tentative. She wants to know the extent of the protection runes, and eventually, she realizes that you were right about the ink coming off. Wanda manages to turn you into a mess of breathless whispers as she slides her tongue against yours, and once your arms are tightening around her waist, invading beneath her shirt, she can feel the runes melting in your skin, until finally, she feels no magic resistance. You are all hers to play with.

But like everything else she’s done, Wanda didn’t quite calculate what kissing you would do to her. The effect on her body is ridiculously incapacitating and distracting. She knows she should be muttering spells, but all that comes out of her mouth are affected gasps. Your hands move down, grabbing her ass and grinding her against your lap and Wanda forgets what she came here to do.

"I cannot believe..." You groan suddenly, between one kiss and another. "That we've gone so long without doing this." Wanda bites your lip, pulling and making you whimper, the sound sending a sharp throb through her belly. Your dilated pupils stare at her with such adoration that Wanda needs a moment.

She remembers those looks. She remembers everything. And it's only fair that you remember too.

Coming closer, she kisses you more fervently now. Enough to make you squirm on the mattress, trying to pull her down, increase the friction between your hips. But Wanda knows the passion will turn, so she controls the kiss, controls everything.

One of her hands wraps around your hair, and she's still kissing you, taking the air from your lungs as the first memories dance in flashes behind your eyes.

You frown in confusion, trying to pull away, but Wanda kisses you again, and again until you gasp in shock and her magic goes deeper into your mind, invading you without you even realizing it.

Wanda's free hand suddenly goes inside your pants and you gasp against her mouth, surprised by the touch before surrendering completely to her.

Wanda pants into your mouth, and red irises glare at you when you break the kiss with a moan. She's not gentle, her fingers pushing your panties aside and not bothering to collect much of the surrounding moisture before sinking inside, filling you up all at once. She twists her hand, pushing deeper and you whimper into her mouth. Oh, how Wanda missed feeling you like this, coming undone against her fingers. 

There’s a flash of memories again, of a team of heroes and a battle, but Wanda adjusts her hand and her palm presses against your clit, and you break into a moan and throw your head forward on her shoulder. She hums in satisfaction, the hand that’s not inside your pants moving past your hair, to your back in an attempt to calm you. 

The memories will get worse, you’ll remember everything eventually. 

Wanda knows that sooner or later you will- Your hand wraps around her throat suddenly. She’s startled, of course, but the sound sounds much more like a moan than a protest of pain. Your eyes glow the same scarlet as hers, and the once-innocent expression carries a maturity that only memories of a lifetime could give you. Your hips are still moving—hard and fast against her hand, but Wanda feels much less in charge. You squeeze her neck as you come, and she feels so ridiculously turned on that she can barely move her fingers, being used up in the final waves of your climax. Not a second later, your hand pushes hers away, and her body is pushed next. Pressed against the bed with you on top, instead of holding her neck, you hold both your hands above her head.

"I don't know what the fuck is going on, but this is a very welcome way to bring someone back to life."

She chuckles affectedly, with emotion, with lust. A little - a lot - of both. But in the end, emotion wins. The tears in her eyes are indeed from longing.

"It's so good to see you again, darling." She says hoarsely, her hands still clasped on top of her head.

You sigh, loosening your grip without letting go of her. "Wanda, how..." But she looks like she'll start crying, for real, if you have to explain. You sigh again in defeat and soften your gaze. "How about that coffee? And you explain everything to me calmly."

She nods, smiling tearfully. "You'll have to get off of me first." She jokes, but you look at her mouth and get a little closer to her face. 

"Yeah, in a minute. I don't know how long it's been, honey, but you've managed to get even more stunning." 

She laughs shyly. "Good to know you're still a flirt." 

"Only with my girl." That's what you say before closing the distance. Wanda doesn't need to think about anything or worry as long as she has this. No multiverse, no possible dead variants. She has you, and that's all that matters.

[ijbolgawon]

HEARTBURN' — peter parker

in which. Y/n knows Peter is hiding something—and she’s determined to find out what.

warnings. mentions of fighting almost none really

a/n. i suggest listening to this song which is the main inspiration for this scenario

The Parker Residence is quiet, the kind of quiet that only exists in the dead of night. The hum of the refrigerator fills the space, accompanied by the occasional distant honk of a car outside. The clock on the wall ticks past midnight, its rhythmic sound marking the hours Peter has been gone.

Y/n sits at the kitchen table, backward on a chair, her chin propped up in her hand, elbow resting against the wooden backrest. Her other hand taps absentmindedly against the surface of the table as she waits.

Then, finally, the front door clicks open.

Peter Parker steps inside, moving like a ghost, shoulders slightly hunched, the hood of his hoodie pulled up over his head. There’s something about the way he carries himself—slower, heavier—that makes her grip the back of the chair a little tighter.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just heads straight to the fridge, opening it with one hand. The cold light spills over him, illuminating his slightly slouched posture. He rummages inside, shuffling things around, his fingers briefly curling around a milk carton before he sniffs it and winces, shoving it back in.

“You didn't have to wait for me”,he murmured, closing the fridge with a soft thud.

Y/n doesn’t move. "Well, I did," she says simply. "I sent Aunt May to bed, by the way.”

He nods, pursing his lips. With his back facing her, he moves over to the cabinets in a hope of finding a snack to fulfill his craving.

However, his lack of response only made her more curious, and she leaned back in her chair, sighing.

“Why do you have your hood on?”, she asks.

“It's comfortable—I'm just cold”, he shrugs, still not looking at her.

The weight in that one word doesn’t go unnoticed. Y/n’s eyes narrow slightly as she watches him. His hood is still up, shielding his face. She doesn’t like that.

“Inside?”, she asks, tilting her head.

Silence.

“Are you hiding from the FBI, Peter?”, she teases, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly.

Y/n pushes her chair back, the wooden legs scraping against the floor. She stands up and takes a slow step toward him. "Pull it off"

Peter finally stops searching the cabinets, sighing under his breath. He closes the door and turns away from her, moving toward the sink, leaning against the counter like he needs the support.

“Y/n, go to sleep”, he urges, voice almost in a whisper.

But she doesn't listen. She never does.

"Pull the damn hood off and look at me Parker."

Silence. Then, after a moment, Peter exhales and reaches up, pushing the hood back.

Even under the dim kitchen light, the bruises are clear—dark splotches along his cheekbone, a cut on his lip, swelling near his jaw.

Y/n feels her stomach churn, her hand flying to cover her mouth with a gasp.

“Oh my God—who did this to you?”

His jaw clenched, quickly turning his head, like he doesn't want her to look too long.

"Did Flash do this to you?" she asks, stepping closer. "Or—who?"

As much as he wants to tell her the truth, he has to step on his heart and lie, in order to protect her.

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing, Peter!" Her voice rises slightly, frustration seeping through her concern. "Jesus, you can't just show up like this and expect me to ignore it.”

He feels his voice die in his throat, his hands gripping his backpack straps tighter. She’s standing right in front of him now, her arms dropped to her sides, eyes narrowed with a mixture of worry and frustration.

“Say something”, she begs, fluttering her eyes.

It doesn't take long for Aunt May to wake up, and she goes down the stairs, her voice filled with worry and confusion.

“What on earth is going on?”, the woman wonders, her voice echoing through the kitchen. She is soon met with a bruised Peter Parker and a very agitated Y/n, who seemed like she was about to break down at any moment.

Peter is quicker than her, finishing everything in one breath “Nothing, we were just catching up”. Aunt May raises an eyebrow, sighing.

Y/n reaches for him, her fingers brushing his wrist, but Peter steps away.

"I'm fine," he says, voice quieter now.

"You don’t look fine", she insisted, looking straight in his eyes.

"I'm tired."

"Peter—"

"Goodnight, Y/n."

And with that, he walks past her, disappearing down the hall toward his room. The door clicks shut behind him.

Y/n stays frozen in place for a moment, her heart pounding. Her hands curl into fists.

She doesn’t know what’s going on with Peter Parker.

But she’s going to find out.

[coastershells]

S T C H R I S T O P H E R

IN WHICH — dallas stumbles through your window , searching for some help desperately.

⚠️ : sexual talk , dallas tries , but fails.

not proofread as usual! / requested? yes : no

꩜ ◞ — wc : 1.5k div creds : enchanthings-a

when dallas came stumbling through your window , you expected many things. maybe an apology , a smirk , a dirty joke , a pickup line , the casual dallas , the silly yet stupid boyfriend you know.

instead , you were met with a dallas that was on the floor , shivering covered in snow , and he looked pretty much beat up.

you didn’t know what to say for a few seconds ; you were fidgeting with your bracelet a second ago , wondering when the snow would stop so you could go outside and play with it , or just touch it. snow is random around your area , so whenever it falls people are either playing or fighting in it. you just hope that the gang is responsible enough to be the ones playing in it.

it makes you worry about johnny.

“ dal? “ you question with a shaky voice , and he lets out a painful grunt. your stomach does a swirl and you hop off your bed , your bracelet going to the way back of your mind. “ dallas! “

“ hey sweetheart. “ he hisses out. and you quickly run to shush him , the window being half open let’s some snow fall in , and he scrunches his nose. “ fuckin’ hurts. “ he exhales , and you panic , hands hovering over his body.

“ dal — what happened?! shit , where’s the first aid?! “ you dash off and leave dallas , which probably wasn’t nice , but you can tell without even taking off that leather jacket he’s injured somewhere. bad.

you scramble to your bathroom and quickly check under the sink , to which you find your old trusty first aid. when you return to your room , dallas has put himself up against the wall by the window , and he seems to be shivering even more.

you rush to the window and close it , feeling the cold air yourself. you have so many questions to ask him but you have a gut feeling you’ll only get snarky replies or silence. dallas hasn’t ever came to you this beaten up , not ever. you see cuts on his face , but what really scares you is his hand gripping his side.

“ fuck. dallas — what did you do? “

“ you callin’ me that , it ain’t helping. you make me feel like i’m in trouble. “ he says through pained gasps.

“ you are in trouble. what were you doing in the snow in just a leather jacket? move your hand. “ you nudged it out of the way and he looked to the side , preparing for the worst. you moved his jacket then his messed up shirt , and he lets out a dry laugh while you are looking wide eyed at all the cuts in one spot specifically. “ what happened? what did you do? “ you ask , and you aren’t sure if you’re mad at him or genuinely trying to figure him out.

“ got roughed up real bad. “ he jolts when you place your hand below all the cuts. he looks down at you. “ s’pretty , doll. lemme just.. “ his arm lazily finds its way to your collarbone and trails down , and it’s a little too close for comfort.

“ hands off. you’re hurt. we can do that tomorrow. “ you sniff , and he shifts uncomfortably. you expected him to push more , but the shaking shows he probably doesn’t have the energy.

“ you’re an idiot , dal. it’s snowing and you go out to fight? do you know it’s fucking freezing? “ you pull his necklace , and you groans. he looks irritated.

“ never said i fought. “

“ so what , who did this to you then? “

he went silent yet again.

you don’t know why you tried.

“ socs. heard em talkin’ about you. “ he says , giving in. he still has that irritated look on his face , though.

you sighed , out of frustration and you still try to reason with him. “ dal , they will always talk about me. it’s fine. “

“ it ain’t if you’re my girl. ran em all off. straight out of our territory. “ he says as you open the first aid.

“ after i patch you up , you’re showering and we are going straight to sleep. “ you state and he looks your way.

“ you gonna shower with me? “

“ nope. already showered bud. i’ll wash your hair. you’re scrubbing yourself though. “

“ aren’t you just so kind. “ he mumbles and you press onto one of his cuts.

“ ow — fuck. i’m sorry , alright? jeez. “

dallas puts up a small fight when you bandage up his wounds , and a larger fight when he has to get undressed but you don’t. he asks why you can’t just shower with him , but you barley want him in your bed. not because he’s nasty or anything , but you’re afraid the blood will bleed through onto your sheets like last time he got roughed up.

“ how many? “ you ask.

“ what? “

“ how many guys were there? did you win? “

“ ‘course i won. you think these cuts for show? “ he points to his side , and you grumble. “ about four or five. snow made it hard to stand. “ he says as he relaxes into you scrubbing his head. “ that’s the spot. “

he jokes and you tap the side of his head.

“ i’ll knock your skull right out. why were you out there in the first place? “

“ was heading here. had a feeling you wouldn’t be sleep. you can never sleep without me. “

you give up on questions , because he’s right. and it’s a first. so instead of responding to that , you tell him to close his eyes tight and you put the showerhead right over him. he shivers , but relaxes right back in.

“ jokes on you , that’s helping with the cold. “ he laughs and you curse under your breath. “ asshole. “ you say louder than the rest.

“ baby , not to be rude , but can we speed this up? i’m already fighting urges to not pull you in here with me. “ he turns to you , and you look down. fuck. you look back up , and he’s smiling at you now. “ come on , just come in , sweetheart. i promise i won’t bite you. “

“ dal , it’s a no. don’t make me change my mind about this in the morning. “

he groans. “ i protect you from some socs and i can’t even get a kiss? “

“ you aren’t asking for just a kiss. “

“ it’s the same thing , just some.. extra steps. “

you turn off the shower and throw a towel at him , to which he takes and wraps around him and your grateful. something for him to keep his dick in thats not you.

“ fortunately for you , i don’t have any shirts that’ll fit you well , so you’re gonna have to go shirtless. “

dallas smiles as he follows you into your room and goes to your closet in search of any pants that might fit him. “ you say that like it’s a problem for me. “

you roll your eyes and look at the area he was sitting in. luckily , there’s no blood on your carpet. so you don’t have to be on your knees tomorrow. you pick up the first aid and place it on your dresser , you don’t care enough to go back to the bathroom.

you sigh as you hear his footsteps , yet you don’t try to turn around. you know what he’s going to do , and you think it out as he does it. he presses against you , and puts his now warm hands under your stomach , yet it still gives you goosebumps. “ done , baby. we sleeping now? “ you can hear a low hiss , and it makes you realize that his side still hurts.

“ sleep on that side instead. i don’t want you sleeping on your bad side. “ he puts his hands up jokingly and walks around your bed , you take that opportunity to quickly turn off the light before he gets onto the bed and pulls you in. you giggle , but let it happen.

“ love you s’much.. would’ve been better if.. “

you look at him. “ dallas winston. “

“ alright , fine. i give up. i won’t ask anymore until tomorrow. damn , woman. “

you laugh , a little louder than you should. and he playfully pinches your shoulder.

he wraps his arms around you tight , and finally gives you a kiss.

“ see? that’s what just a kiss is. you’re finally learnin’ dal! “

“ shut up , now. i need tomorrow to come quicker. “

“ you’re way too excited. “ you whisper as you blink lazily , and look outside to the yellow streetlight spilling into your room , it highlights the snow falling , and you wonder how much of the ground it’ll cover.

you swear you see a blood trail , but you might be imagining it.

uuuugh i have to go back to school this sucks now i can’t think about matt dillon all day!!! fudge!! (teehee if u wanna be added to the list below lmk)

taglist : @every1hatesmayaa , @mrsdillonx , @r0seb100d !!

[novasintheroom]

091. Yellow Tulip

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.3k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: Vash realizes he's in love with you.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

The Tinkertons are grateful. Bringing back the entire flock of toma in one go wasn’t easy, nor expected. The bandits are already rounded and tied up, waiting for the local sheriff to arrive outside. They spit and glare anytime Vash got too close, like cats.

Mr. Tinkerton’s wide-eyed gaze was reward enough, and was all that was expected, really. Still, Mrs. Tinkerton insisted you both at least stay the night as some kind of reward for saving their farm.

Which leads to Vash standing in the hallway of the Tinkerton farmhouse while its matriarch digs through their closet for spare blankets. His feet hurt. So do his shoulders. Wrangling toma is no easy task, and wrestling them away from bandits even harder. Distantly, he wonders how you’re doing; everything happened so quickly, he isn’t sure how you’re feeling. He’ll have to ask.

“Alright, there you are my dear.” Mrs. Tinkerton places a large blanket in Vash’s arms. “Your girl’s already got the sheets, so it should be a quick make-up.”

There’re yellow tulips on the blanket. It’s fluffy, with the smell of musk from sitting in a closet too long. Vash bunches it up in his arms, murmuring a ‘thank you’ to Mrs. Tinkerton before turning and heading for the guest room.

“Breakfast will be ready at five,” Mrs. Tinkerton calls out. Vash turns again to nod, but she’s already moving down the stairs. Five, he thinks, yawning and going into the room.

There’s a lamp on in the corner, painting the already-yellow room in warm light. You’re set up on the bed reading one of your books. Your toes wiggle when he enters. “Oh, that looks like a good blanket!” Sitting up, you scooch over to let him kneel on the bed. He throws the blanket over your head, and you sputter under the fabric. “Hello?”

He lets out a chuckle and pulls the blanket down. Your hair is askew. “Aw, so pretty,” he croons. He reaches out to muss your hair even more. You swat him away, and he laughs.

“Knock it off!” You whine. “You’re gonna make me bend the pages!” Grouchy, you pull your book from under the blanket and finger the paper, checking for rips or tears.

“Oh the pages, the pages,” he jokes. “It’s fine, see?”

You sniff and pull the blanket around you, facing toward the wall. “Just get dressed already, you’re annoying me.”

He grins and flicks your ear before going for his bag. There’s a warmth, a giddiness in him, at the prospect of having a nice, clean place to sleep tonight. He closes the room’s door and dresses in his PJ’s quickly.

When he turns, he only sees a ball of blanket on the bed. You’ve burrowed yourself thoroughly in. “You have to share,” he warns. Vash pads over and pokes some of the tulips. You squeal and curl in deeper. “Mayfly, share.”

“No.”

His brows uptick. Really, now? He snakes his arms around your wrapped body and heaves you into the air. Your scream is muffled, but he maneuvers onto the bed and against the wall before gently lowering you back to the mattress. Feeling the softness under you again, you poke your head out of the blanket and give him a glare. “I was going to move!”

“No, you weren’t,” he laughs. He shifts to his side of the small bed, pulling at the blanket to get some for himself. “You have to share,” he says again.

A deep, heavy sigh blows out of you, and you reluctantly give up half the blanket to him. When you’re both under and have stopped shifting to get comfortable, the creaking of the bed springs and frame lessening, it is quiet. You go back to reading, and Vash stares at the ceiling. He naturally moves his arm up when you scoot closer to him, back pressing into his side and your ankle hooking to his.

It spirals his mind like a slow-moving drain, water and thoughts swirling down its sleepy path. His eyes feel heavy. Muscles sore.

“How do you feel about today?” he asks, shaking off sleep.

“Hm?” You put a finger in your book and glance at him over your shoulder. “Fine. Sore and tired. Why?” Then, brows pressing down, you roll over to face him. “Are you okay?”

And…he doesn’t know what comes over him. Perhaps it’s your sweet worry, the yellow light at your back, the feel of your ankle on his. But he mouths it before he realizes: ‘I love you.’

A cold sweat breaks out on his neck, and he sucks in a breath. It’s as much of a revelation to him as it is to you, surely. His skin prickles. What will you say to this?

Your eyes move from his lips to his eyes, confused. “What? What are you saying?...Why do you look like that?”

Lucky for him, you’ve always been bad at lipreading.

His breath comes out in a great gust, and you wrinkle your nose. “Go brush your teeth, your breath reeks.”

It doesn’t, and he has, but he laughs and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. You grumble, not in the mood for his affection; you want to read your book! Vash bonks his head against yours and says, “I was saying, ‘You’re my best friend.’”

“Tch. Get off me.”

He just laughs again and kisses your temple, releasing you to let you turn back over and get back to reading.

“You’re weird,” you mumble, embarrassed and a little flustered. Vash has a way of doing that to you lately.

But he doesn’t notice, so caught up in his realization that he…he loves you. Is in love with you. It…doesn’t scare him. Not as much as he thought it would, anyway. Vash readjusts on the bed, careful to give you enough room and squishing against the popcorn wall. The ceiling is the same – lumps of gravel and shards of metal holding the plaster together. He stares at it for a long time. He’s in love. He really is in love.

There’s the dread, of course. He was never meant to fall in love. Not with anyone. Yet his heart has betrayed him, following you and settling down in the warmth of your eyes, your smile. Is he desperate? Lonely? He shakes his head. No. Not since you came along.

Seventy-nine years he wandered alone. He forced another ten years out when he left you in the middle of the night. He knows what lonely is. This is not it. It settles over him like a blanket, warm and soft and so, so comforting. Like the blanket you both have now, covered in butter-yellow tulips. Symbols of friendship. He wants to reach out and hold you close to him. His best friend. His love.

“Alright,” you mutter after a time, startling him out of his thoughts, “I’m going to bed.” You groan when you sit up, walking on sore feet to the light switch. The light turns off, but Vash still sees you stumble back to bed. He opens his arms for you, and you fall into them.

“You’re really cuddly tonight,” you comment, settling your head on his chest.

He huffs. “Does it bother you?”

“No. Just noticing.”

Your breathing evens out after a few moments. Vash’s heart slows with you. It’s easy. It’s suddenly so easy, thinking of loving you. If you had asked him twelve years ago if he ever thought he’d be in love, he’d deny it with everything in his being. Love was not for him. Not after what he’s done. Maybe it still isn’t.

But he’s learned to not deny himself emotion. And what greater emotion is there than love? So he’ll hold you close, pretending that he is normal, that he is just a man with the woman he loves, and who loves him back.

Just for tonight.

[violettduchess]

A/N: A continuation of this headcanon, here is the same scenario with Chevalier and Licht, a small child entering their bedroom in the middle of the night

WC: 1.3

The child's white bedroom door, painted with a silvery moon and twinkling stars, opens slowly, a whisper in the still of the night. A small head pokes out, knuckling sleepily at eyes still heavy with the remnants of dreaming. A look left, then right.

The hall is empty.

Tiny bare feet tiptoe across plush carpeting.

One hand clutches a stuffed animal, the other reaches for the curved handle of your bedroom door and which, on a quiet exhale, opens.

Chevalier

The door slowly opens and a pale head of blond hair, silvery in the moonlight that spills through the bedroom window, peeks around the corner. Chevalier is still awake, reading by the warm glow of the oil lamp on his nightstand. You are sound asleep on your side of the bed, your feet stretched out and resting against his legs. It’s a small thing really, but he cannot deny the way it feels to know that even in sleep, you seek him out.

He lowers his book, making eye-contact with the little girl who is still peering around the door. “Yes?” It’s invitation enough. She enters, her stuffed white tiger tucked under one arm, both hands clutching a book to her chest. She approaches his side of the large bed, shoulders squared as she looks at her father, quiet determination in her expression. Chevalier glances at the silver clock, ticking quietly away on his nightstand, next to the lamp. “You should be sleeping.”

She nods, drawing a breath. “I know, Papa. But I have a dilemma.”

He forces himself not to smile at her very serious expression but the warmth is there, winding its way around his heart as he regards her. “Do you?” 

Carefully, she lays the book she’s been holding down onto his lap. He recognizes it as the book of fairy tales he has been reading to her for the past few nights, the one you had gotten for her birthday a fortnight ago. “I would like you to finish the story we began this evening. The one about the fae and the knight.”

Chevalier tilts his head, regarding her. “I believe we had this discussion an hour ago when it was your bedtime and I told you we would finish it tomorrow night.” 

She clears her throat, looking at him with eyes as blue as the endless sea, eyes that perfectly mirror his own. “I know and that is my dilemma. However…I’ve thought about it. And I have a good reason why we should continue now.”

His eyebrows raise ever so slightly. “Go on.”

She takes a moment, gathering her thoughts. “You see, the story was so interesting that I have not been able to sleep. In fact, I have been kept quite awake wondering what is going to happen. As you said Papa, this has already cost me an hour of rest. But…” She takes a deep breath, reading herself for the heart of her plea. “If you were to read me the last three pages, it would take you approximately fifteen minutes. And then I would know how the tale ends. And I could go to bed. If not, I worry I may continue to toss and turn and my sleep will be further interrupted.” 

He does not answer a moment. His words momentarily robbed by the strange and heady mixture of pride and love for his daughter that is squeezing his heart, an emotion she so often evokes and that never fails to leave him amazed. She waits, the only sign that she is eager to hear his response is the impatient wiggling of her toes. Finally, the corner of his lips lift in a soft smile.

“You make a very compelling argument.” He sets aside his book and then gets out of bed, taking her fairy tale book in one hand and holding out his other to her. “We’ll finish the story in your room, in our reading chair so that we don’t wake your mother.”

She smiles, brighter than the full moon, and suddenly he sees you, his beloved wife. There you are, the echo of your warmth and joy painted across her young face. The warmth and joy that reached through the walls around his heart and gathered him close, taught him not only was he worthy of love but he could love back just as fiercely. 

And here, your daughter, the living embodiment of that very love, grips his large hand happily as she leads the way back to her room. Impulsively she turns her head and kisses the top of his hand. “Thank you, Papa.” Chevalier answers her affection with a tender smile and a squeeze of her hand in return. “You are very, very welcome.”

Licht

He stirs the moment the bedroom door opens, having not quite sunk into the well of dreaming yet. Pushing himself up, his first instinct is to reach for the nightstand drawer where his dagger is waiting to bite into any intruder. But his hand stills, midair, when he sees who is peeking her pale head around the door. “Papa?” 

He murmurs her name and motions for his daughter to come in as you sleepily rub at your eyes, rolling over to see what’s going on. She rushes to the bed, her stuffed wolf held by its bushy tail. It’s only when she’s close that he notices the watery eyes, the rapid way her small chest rises and falls, the paleness of her cheeks.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” She climbs onto the bed and launches herself into her father’s arms, burying her face in the soft white linen of his sleepshirt. “I had a bad dream,” is her muffled reply. 

Licht’s breath hitches in his throat. He is far too familiar with the phantoms that still sometimes haunt his nights, the dark tendrils of fear and terror and pain that wrap themselves around his mind at its most vulnerable. Noticing the way he’s frozen, you reach over, placing a reassuring hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing gently even as you reach with the other hand to touch your daughter’s bare foot, letting her know you are there for her.

Licht breathes in, your touch bringing him back from the shadows. He adjusts his arms around her, then strokes her moonlight-hair with a steady hand. Your touch on his back soothes him, sending calm waves of warmth through him, the same steady flow of love and reassurance he is giving to your child.

“Dreams can feel very real,” he murmurs, speaking slowly and tenderly, his lips resting on the top of her head. “And it’s ok to be scared.” You nod, resting your chin on Licht’s shoulder and brush the back of your fingers against her round little cheek. “We’re here for you, my love. Always.”

She leans back, sniffling and Licht tenderly brushes her hair away from her flushed face. “Can I sleep here tonight?” He nods immediately, a smile gracing his lips as she climbs her way over the both of you to wiggle herself under the covers. Her wolf tucked close to her chest, she throws herself against her father, eliciting a soft laugh before snuggling up against his side, her head on his chest. 

Licht glances at you over her head, his eyes the soft red of sunset as he extends his arm in invitation. You slide closer, curling up against your daughter, your head pillowed by his arm. 

No nightmares trouble any of you for the rest of the peaceful night.

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet

@silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton

@ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp

@got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @starlitmanor-network

@sh0jun @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny

@chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @ozalysss

[lilac-5ky]

get him back! (ex-boyfriend!Toji x Fem!Reader)

mini kinktober tribute: hate sex

plot: you broke up with toji and he decided to break your friends, until you decide you've had enough.

tags: hate sex, toxic relationship, exes to ???, reader tried to be a good friend, toji is a manipulative asshole, against a door, unprotected sex, spanking, recording, derogatory petnames, slight angst and arguing.

wc: 2.2k

Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“You fucking asshole! I know you’re holed in there like a damn rat; open up!”

Your fist bangs against his door with abandon. You don’t care that it’s 4 a.m. on a Thursday night or that the neighbors probably think of you as some crazy bitch, which maybe you are. You turned into one the moment your best friend was dumped through a three-word text.

“Saw your clunker out front; open up or the whole block will learn what a prick you are!”

Kimie was in love with him. She was in love with him when she collapsed on your doorstep an hour ago, and she was still in love with him when you left her sleeping soundly in your bed. So were Nanako, Azami, and Rio—the victims before her.

His modus operandi was the same with all four of your friends. He approached them one by one, casting the same spell that enchanted the panties off their thighs, dated them until he got bored, and then broke them into a state beyond repair, leaving you to pick up the pieces.

“I swear, if you don’t open the door right fucking now—” You’re suddenly dragged into his apartment, your wrist pulled against a firm wall of muscle as the door shuts behind you with a thud.

“And they say prayers don’t get answered.” His smile makes your guts churn, pearly white canines beaming below a taut, scarred lip. “Tad late though, aren’t ya? Been—what, two hours since I dumped that b—”

An attempted slap has your hand joining its twin in his grasp. “Call her a bitch again, and the next will be your balls!” You flail, trying to break free.

He doesn’t look disturbed in the slightest. His grin only turns wider at the sheer hatred with which you look at him.

You hate him. You hate Toji with every inch of your being. You hate how he ruined your friends’ lives on a whim; how he poisoned them against you, pointing you out as the reason for each of their breakups. You hate how there’s an ounce of truth in that accusation because, in his twisted brain, he’s doing all that for you. Because his ego can’t stand that you bailed on him first.

“Oh yeah?” He sneers, shoving your hands back against your chest. “Try me, girl. Show me what you got.”

His eyes provoke you, as smug as the rest of his face. You hate to think they were once the most wonderful thing in existence, and you treasured them like pure jade.

Your hands ball into fists, that remain glued to your sides. Your threats are empty, and he knows that. You aren’t there to fight. Just to give him a piece of your mind and hopefully, put an end to this insanity.

“Finally came around?” Toji asks at the lack of reaction.

You sigh. “How long will you keep this up?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Any more cute friends of yours left to fuck?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Your voice climbs a whole octave above his.

“You are.”

“Really? You’re gonna pin all of that on me?” It takes every bit of self-restraint not to pluck the hair out of his stupid head. “Please, enlighten me!”

“I miss you.” He admits, and he sounds earnest, but you aren’t fazed. You’ve heard all of that before; read all about it in the countless texts he’s sent over the past five months. “I miss my pretty baby and all the fun we had together. Miss how we talk, how we laugh, how we fuck.”

You managed to disregard the sculpted muscles decorating his bare chest that had been in plain sight since before you entered his place, yet now you look at them with a stare that is almost nostalgic.

“We were so good together, princess. Why be apart now, mm?” He reaches out to you, his forefinger curling near your cheek. “Don’tcha think your tantrum lasted long enough?”

“My tantrum?” You smack his hand away. “You are the one who had it good, Toji. You are the one who had a maid, a girlfriend, and a wallet all in one. You did nothing, and I did everything! I cleaned for you, I cooked for you—I even tagged along to all your stupid races, and you did what exactly? Fucked all my friends to get back at me for calling things off? If you really think it’s my fault, then you’re sick in the head, though that’s nothing new. You killed us; not me.”

Toji scratches the back of his head uncomfortably. As expected, he has nothing to say in return. He doesn’t miss you; he misses the comfort of you, and you don’t miss him either. You simply miss the way he sometimes held you tight against his chest and whispered he loved you so many times that you were inclined to believe him. You miss the dreams you created—the entire life you’d planned together only for it to be viciously torn apart by his current self.

“Can’t you see it? There’s no ‘we’ anymore. There’s only ‘you’ and ‘I’, and the poison that’s left behind from what we once were. It’s over between us, but ” you take advantage of his silence, “Kimie did nothing wrong. She loves you, so better give her a call, say you got high on some shit—I don’t fucking know—and apologize. Beg if you have to, but get back with her.”

“And why would I do that?” His arms fold over his chest, a thin obsidian brow shaping an arch. “Boring bitch was only good at getting my dick wet. Nothing like you.”

His voice mellows down as he speaks your name, his eyes waning past his eyelids, both soft, unlike the calloused palm that traces the outline of your face. “I was serious about you. Still am. Why else you think I did all that? I love you. Love my baby and her little pussy so much.”

“S-stop that.” Your heart skips a beat as he corners you against the door, your hand searching for the handle behind your back.

“My pussy.” His lips ghost over your neck while his hips buck into you possessively. “C’mon, baby. Be honest with yourself. You don’t really give a shit ‘bout Kimie. You came to me cause ya knew I’d fuck you good. Haven’t let anyone in my pussy since last time, mm?”

“You are wrong.” You breathe out, nails digging sharply into your palm. You don’t want this. You don’t want him. You are here for your friend—the only friend you’ve got left after he turned everyone against you. “You ain’t shit, Toji.”

“Yeah? How many guys have made you scream like I have? How many of ‘em have fucked both your brain and thighs into mush? How many of ‘em you called daddy, hm?” He bites into your shoulder, and an immediate shudder circuits from the point of impact across your body. “Thought so. No one fucks you like I do. No one will ever love you the way I do.”

“Fuck you, Toji.” The way his knee presses between your thighs coaxes a sigh he doesn’t miss. He grinds harder, your heat pulsing below your soaked underwear.

“Yeah? Fuck me?” He’s gone back to facing you, his minty breath tickling your bottom lip right before it follows his tongue into your mouth. Your body doesn’t resist; worse, it reciprocates.

“Yes. F—fuck you,” you mumble, having found a new reason to hate him.

He is right. You never cared that much about Kimie, because if you did, you wouldn’t have sneaked out in the middle of the night in your skimpiest outfit. Avenging your friend was the last thing in your mind, an afterthought drowned by his lips and his hands crawling beneath your dress.

“Why not do it yourself, baby?” Toji nibbles at your lip in the exact way he knows that you like. “Fuck me. Fuck me, and I’ll take that bitch Kirie back ‘f that’s what ya still want after.” His finger curls around the elastic band of your panties, awaiting your answer.

“God, I hate you so fucking much.”

“Hm?”

“It’s Kimie, you asshole.”

In an instant, your arms loop around his neck and your legs around his torso as Toji lifts you up against the door. He grunts into the kiss, teeth and tongues clashing while each tries to gain access to the other’s body. He rips your underwear into a single shred he flings away, giving your ass a rough smack that makes you whine countless little I hate you’s into his mouth.

Fumbling with the laces of his sweatpants, you lower them enough for his cock to spring free, already rock hard even when you’ve done nothing besides arguing. You almost moan at the sight, thinking to yourself there might just be a part of him you actually missed.

“Shoulda wash that potty mouth for all the useless shit it spews,” he murmurs against your skin, sliding your dress’ straps below your breasts and rolling the hem over your stomach. “‘member how much ya loved to suck me off? Gagged on every inch and swallowed every drop like the fucking cockslut that y’are.” His teeth dig in your flesh, coloring a mark right above where his fingers close around your neck. “My cockdrunk whore.”

“Just fuck me and get this over with.”

Your breathing grows strained the more pressure he applies, your walls clenching around his cock as he finally sinks inside. You try not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, pursing your lips together while his thick girth stretches your cunt to its limits. You channel all the miserable memories he left you with, every tear you shed over him seemingly gathering as slick that squelches with each thrust your moans drown out. Oh no.

“Liar,” Toji smiles haughtily, a continuous drum from his hip ruthlessly slamming yours against the wooden door, your back rising higher each time. “Knew ya wanted this as much as I do.”

“N-no,” you pant out, stubbornly holding onto your last vestige of self-respect while the tip of his cock insists to kiss that one spot that has you seeing stars quicker than you can account for.

“Don’t tell me ya still lie to yourself ‘bout doing this to be a good friend.” And when you don’t answer, he reaches into his pocket to dig out his phone, first pointing the camera at your face and then at the point where his cock splits you open. “Wanna make a video and send it to her? See what she makes of you getting railed?”

“You fucking piece of shit!” You slap the phone from his grasp, the entire screen filling up with cracks before going dark.

“That was new.” His tongue clicks against his mouth’s roof. “Guess I’ll have to make you pay for this, hm?”

Both his palms drop to your ass, spanking both cheeks in tandem with his thrusts until tears thread your eyelashes, the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure speeding up your orgasm.

“A bit louder, baby. Don’t think the neighbors heard ya.”

He bullies his cock faster into you, husky moans complimenting your high-pitched whimpers that fill the space and echo across the halls of his apartment building.

“T-Toji, I—” He finishes you off before you can finish your sentence, your eyes squeezing shut as fireworks blast behind your eyelids.

“That’s my girl.” He praises, laying soft kisses that you reject on your sweat-covered forehead. You don’t want to be fooled again. This is a one time thing.

“‘m not your—ugh, fucking girl.” You hiss, yanking at the frayed tufts of hair your fingers pick from his skull. “Never will be.”

“Sure about that?” A hand sneaks between your bodies and finds your clit. “Bet if I make ya cum ‘nough times, you’ll come crawling back to me.”

“N-not a chance,” quickly shifts into a loud, “Fuck!” when he starts rubbing quick circles around the sensitive nub. You can’t seem to stop moaning for him, feeling your second climax creep up on you at the same time he spills his load, fucking every velvety rope of his cum deep inside your sopping pussy.

You stand on your feet for the first time in a while, your knees trembling as you struggle to keep straight without his aid. Toji looks so smug with his cock still throbbing in his hand, the swollen red tip mocking you and your efforts to resist it.

He pulls his sweats up, and without a warning, the door flies wide open. This is your chance to leave. It’s what he wants. For you to either bear the shame of stumbling back home with his cum staining your legs down to your ankles or stay the night and be tricked into getting back together; humiliation on both ends.

“What’s it gonna be, baby?”

And as the door falls shut behind you, you know you’re going to hate yourself even more after this night than you ever hated him.

a/n: so i planned this waaaay too late, but i still wanted to partake in the madness known as kinktober. i'll be doing some of the days at random, sometimes adding more than one kinks to one one-shot. most will be about toji, unless-

and yes, i'm obsessed with olivia's new album. sue me. masterlist tomorrow, it's 5 am ffs.

[sapphire-writes]

Bandaids & Butterflies (modern hospital AU)

Do No Harm part 2 || masterlist || next part

pairing: doctor!Aemond Targaryen x doctor!Reader

summary: Your week continues at Citedal General. You try to figure out what ails Cece Lannister while tensions rise between you and Aemond.

word count: 4.1k

disclaimer: yall, I am not a doctor, I am simply a Grey's Anatomy stan. If something is off or incorrect please just suspend your disbelief! I am trying my best to make it as accurate as possible but its just for fun!!

warnings below the cut!

warnings: medical terminology, medications, CT scan, blood, infectious diseases referencing spicy times but nothing explicit in this chapter

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

“What happened to you?” little Cece Lannister says when you walk into her room the following day, “You look terrible.”

There’s something about kids; like they’ve been force-fed truth serum and have to say the first thought that comes to their mind. You cock your head to the side, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. 

“Cerelle,” her mother hisses, cheeks red at her daughter’s brutal honesty. 

“What?” Cece says, eyebrows creasing together, “She does.”

“It’s okay, really,” you tell Mrs. Lannister, as she scolds her daughter again, “Maybe I should get a bed next to you.”

Cece shakes her head, golden curls vibrating as she does. Her hospital gown hangs too big, drooping off her thin shoulders. You wonder if she’s been eating much more than the ice cream they serve after dinner. 

“No roommates, please. I like my alone time; I get to choose whatever station I want,” she says smiling, holding the remote control to the television on the wall. 

“How’re you feeling this morning Cece?” you ask, reaching for the chart that hangs at the foot of her bed. 

The nurses of Citadel General are on top of everything; without them, the hospital would not be able to function. You flip through her chart, eyes scanning her nighttime vitals. 

“Okay,” Cece says, tugging the ear of her stuffed lion.

“I see they increased her muscle relaxant,” you note, “Did you have a hard time sleeping?”

“She always does but I think the spasms are getting worse, especially at night,” Mrs. Lannister says, concerned in her voice. 

“Are you gonna have a scar?” Cece chimes in, pointing to her temple, mirroring where your stitches are.

“Cece-”

“Probably not,” you tell her, giving Mrs. Lannister a small smile, “The doctors here are pretty good you know.”

Cece leans over in her bed, pulling out a small toy doctor kit. 

“I’m a good doctor too,” she says, rummaging through the bag, “Tyrion has had extensive surgical procedures.”

She points at her stuffed lion, and you suddenly notice the different array of bandages and band-aids covering the golden fur. 

“Oh has he?” you ask, as Cece pats the bed beside her. You move to sit on the edge of the bed, holding her chart across your lap.

“Yes,” Cece says, holding out an assortment of bandaids for you to choose from, “I’ll let you choose. I like pink the best.”

You smile, pointing at the pink bandaid with yellow paw prints decorating it. Cece smiles, approving your choice. She peels the backing before pressing the bandage over your stitches, gently pressing on the edges to make sure it sticks.

“There, much better,” she tells you.

“Thank you, Dr. Lannister,” you tell her, which causes her to smile.

“There she is!” Jace calls as you arrive at the nurses' station. His face scrunches as he looks at your forehead, “Nice bandaid.”

“Thanks,” you say, touching the pink bandage, “Courtesy of Cece Lannister. You run that CT scan for her yesterday?”

“You mean after the ruckus you caused?” Jace asks, leaning against the nurses' station, “No, Baratheon put me in the pit. Which is probably where I will stay for the rest of my life.”

“Did anyone get a CT?” you ask, frowning at his theatrics. 

“Um after you left Cory was supposed to cover her labs and stuff,” Jace tells you, “I’d ask her she’ll know-”

“Know what,” Sara says, placing a handful of clipboards between you, “I’ve been on scut duty all morning. Does anyone know why Baratheon is in such a foul mood?”

“Fouler than usual?” Nettles says, stepping up beside you. 

“I’m not sure if I’m able to determine that,” Sara says, groaning, “But she definitely seems angry.”

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” Cory says, weaving through residents, holding two coffee cups above her head, “Seven hells, doesn’t anyone know how to walk in this place?”

“Apparently not,” Nettles comments, as Cory holds a coffee out to you. 

“For you. Figured you’d need the extra caffeine,” she says as you take the cup. Her smile turns down into a frown, “What is on your head?”

You roll your eyes. This is clearly going to be a whole-day occurrence. 

“Interns!” Dr. Baratheon’s voice calls out, and you all turn, straightening yourselves. 

Dr. Baratheon looks down at her clipboard, before bringing her steely blue eyes to look at the five of you. She sighs, flipping through her pages. 

“Martell, now that Dr. Y/L/N is back I want you to assist me on Lyonel Beesbury’s Whipple this afternoon; You can write that on the board,” she says, nodding to herself. 

Cory lets out a soft ‘yes’ before quickly rushing across the hallway. Nettles’ jaw tightens and you can tell she’s disappointed to have not been asked. 

“Waters I want you shadowing Dr. Targaryen today in pediatrics, Dr. Y/L/N you may join her,” Baratheon continues.

Targaryen.

Your heart lurches.

“Dr. Baratheon, I’m supposed to get Cece Lannister that CT scan,” you tell her, as she raises a brow.

“That’s fine. After that bring it to Dr. Targaryen up on peds, she’ll be interested in seeing it,” Dr. Baratheon says, returning her gaze to her clipboard.

“She?” you ask the question leaving your mouth before you can stop it.

Dr. Baratheon sighs, placing her clipboard across her stomach. Her eyebrows lift toward her hairline, blue eyes fiery.

“Yes, she,” Dr. Baratheon quips, “Was there someone else you thought I was referring to?”

“No ma’am,” you say, shaking your head. 

“Good,” she says, eyes moving past you, “Snow, Velaryon, you’re in the pit.”

Sara and Jace audibly groan. Baratheon gives them a stern look which stops their complaining.

“No drama today,” she says sternly, “Understood?” 

You all murmur words of agreement, and Dr. Baratheon brings her eyes back to your face; they flicker up to your forehead. 

“Take that thing off,” she comments, shaking her head and walking down the hall.

“She’s right. You look silly,” Nettles tells you.

“I can’t take it off, it was a gift from a sick kid. You know how much bad luck that will bring me?” you tell her, walking down the hallway.

“Speaking of bad luck,” Nettles says, smiling, “When are you going to tell me about how you know Dr. Sexy?”

“Dr. Sexy?” you say through a laugh, “Not the greatest name.”

“Girl but he is sexy,” she says fanning herself, “Guy’s name should be McDreamy.”

“McDreamy, Dr. Sexy, it’s nothing,” you tell her, “We….we may have hooked up. Once! That’s it and it was before I knew he worked here.”

“You bad girl,” Nettles hisses, though she’s smiling; her eyes bright, “How was it? Does McDreamy live up to his name?”

“Literally the best sex of my life,” you tell her, “But we already decided it can’t happen again.”

“What?” she says, her smile dropping, “It’s not like he’s your boss, he’s a coworker! People fuck coworkers!”

“What happened to not shitting where you eat?” you tell her.

“Girl you already did, might as well see it through! Especially if he’s that good,” she says, leaning closer, “Just….how good, if I may be so bold.”

You wet your lips, trying to fight your smile.

“Five orgasms good,” you admit and Nettles squeals loudly, jaw dropping.

“That does it,” she says, “You’re getting Dr. Sexy back. Do it for me.”

“Don’t you need to get to peds?” you ask, “And see…Dr. Targaryen?”

“Yeah I noted your confusion around that,” she says with a sigh, “Dr. B was talking about Dr. Helaena Targaryen. You know, renowned pediatric surgeon? She does fabulous research on infectious diseases as well; she came and spoke once when I was in med school about…”

Your mind trails off as Nettles speaks, still focused on Aemond. You hadn’t seen him today and yet he was all you could think about. Since dropping you at home you hadn’t spoken, besides the text he sent you. The door couldn’t still be open. Could it?

“...especially in the southern climates like the Summer Isles, Sothoryos, and Naath..are you listening to me?” Nettles says, punching your shoulder slightly, “Right. Anyway, Sounds like you’re boning her brother.”

“Brother?” you ask, connecting the dots, “Shit. He did say he moved back here for family. But a family full of doctors?”

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” Nettles says, shaking her head, “Sorry. That sounded mean. But the Targaryens are like a huge deal in the medical world.”

“I mean, I’ve seen names on research,” you admit, “And maybe a Ted Talk or two but….I mean I didn’t even know his last name when we…I didn’t realize..”

“You’d come straight into the lion’s pit?” Nettles says with a chuckle, “It’s okay, girl. But I’m giving you some homework. Seriously, look them up. Learn a thing or two.”

“I can’t google Aemond,” you tell her, “It’s just…I don’t know that doesn’t feel right.”

“Understandable,” she says with a shrug, “I mean, Spark Notes version, they’re a huge name within the medical community. Big money, big name, big influence. So don’t go pissing any of them off.”

“Right,” you tell her, “Got it.”

“I’m heading to pediatrics,” Nettles says, pressing an elevator button, “See you soon?”

“Yeah,” you tell her, “Just have to get this CT and I’ll be there.”

“Cool. Later, klutz,” she teases as the doors open.

Cerelle Lannister’s CT scan takes much longer than anticipated. The wait is long and the small girl trembles when being taken into the machine, legs flailing each and every way. Only when they’re strapped down is she somewhat still enough to enter the machine. 

“I feel like a mummy,” she says when the straps are secured, “Being put in a sarcophagus.” 

“That’s pretty spooky,” you tell her with a grin.

“I like to pretend when I’m scared,” she says softly.

You reach out and take her hand.

“No need to be scared of this. The machine is just really loud, that’s all. I’ll be just outside,” you assure her.

“Okay,” she says softly, squeezing your hand. 

She does great, staying as still as she can the entire time. You praise her through the microphone and wave as the nurses escort her back to her room, wheeling her in a small wheelchair. Her stuffed lion was safely on her lap. You’ve noticed she rarely lets go of the toy. 

You sit in the room outside, watching as the scan produces results. Forehead creased, you click through the images as someone knocks on the door. You turn, smiling at Jace leaning in the doorway.

“Hey there,” you greet, “Shouldn’t you be in the pit?”

“Had to sneak away for a second,” he says, “Those Cece’s scans?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, beckoning him forward, “See that inflammation there?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaning forward, hands on the back of your chair, “So what’s your thinking?”

“Something bacterial,” you tell him, “I mean, there’s no sign of tissue or nerve damage, her labs are stable despite her on-and-off fevers. But it's progressing significantly. She’s having trouble sleeping due to the spasms.”

“Have you ever heard of something that causes this?” Jace asks.

“No, at least not off the top of my head,” you admit, “I’m heading to peds. Maybe Dr. Targaryen will have a better idea. Nettles says she specializes in infectious diseases.”

“Oh…..yeah,” Jace says, straightening up and rubbing the back of his neck. You frown as he tenses, his friendly disposition vanishing.

“Just an idea,” you tell him, gathering your things.

You follow him out of the room. Jace seems uneasy, he rubs at his face, and the collar of his scrubs. 

“No it’s a good one,” he agrees, “I should get back to the pit---”

“Strong,” a voice calls, sending your heart racing. 

Aemond takes several strides toward the two of you, a smug smile on his face. Something in your gut tightens, the memory of your night together burning in the back of your mind. He wore a similar expression then, one full of confidence. Goosebumps erupt on your skin. You can hear his voice from that night, as he whispered in your ear while sheathed to the hilt inside of you. 

“Who’s my good girl, hmm?”

You blink, shaking your head, trying to physically expel the memory from your mind. Your cheeks heat up and you notice Jace has turned several shades darker as well, fists clenched at his side. 

“I thought you were assigned to the pit, Strong,” Aemond asks, cocking his head to the side, “I would hate to have to tell Baratheon you’re disobeying orders.”

Aemond’s sentence hits you like a slap in the face. He’s not as cool, calm, and collected right now as he was the last time you’d seen him. He’s bordering on being cruel. You glance at Jace. 

“It’s Velaryon,” Jace says, through his teeth.

“Come again?” Aemond asks, “Don’t mumble, Jacaerys, it’s unseemly.” 

“My name,” Jace says sternly, “Velaryon.”

Aemond’s mouth quirks into an amused grin. 

“My apologies,” he says smoothly, “You’ll have to forgive me, it’s easy to forget.”

“Sure,” Jace says, nose wrinkling.

“Give my best to your dad,” Aemond says, “Whichever one, you’re choice.”

Aemond turns to you, something flickering across his eyes. 

“Dr. Y/L/N,” he says with a curt nod, before walking away, hands tucked behind his back.

Jace exhales, striding over to the elevator. You follow close behind as his pager beeps.

“What the hell was that about?” you ask, stepping inside with him.

“Nothing.”

“Jace, that wasn’t nothing.”

“He was just messing with me,” Jace insists, not meeting your eyes.

“Why was Dr. Targaryen messing with you?”

“Because he’s a narcissistic pig!”

Your eyes widen and Jace sighs, shaking his head. 

“He’s….he’s my uncle okay,” Jace admits. Your eyes widen.

“Your uncle?”

“Yes, and my side of the family doesn’t really get along with his side,” Jace says, as the doors open to your floor.

“But why-”

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Jace says, shaking his head, “I have to go. Sara just paged, some drunk deadbeat riling everyone up downstairs.”

You step outside the elevator but turn back to him.

“I want the full story, Velaryon. Not the Cliff Notes, the whole story,” you tell him. 

“Okay!” he reluctantly agrees, “Later.”

“Tonight, Dragon’s Den, tell Sara!” you call as the doors begin to close.

“So I can air my dirty laundry to everyone?!” 

“Exactly!” you call as the doors shut. 

Turning on your heel, you head down the hall to pediatrics. You can’t wait to share the details with Nettles as you push through the double doors and head to the nurses' station. 

“Excuse me,” you ask a nurse, “Have you seen Dr. Targareyn?”

“Which one?”

“Dr. Helaena Targaryen,” you clarify.

“She was just here, she’ll roll around in a moment.”

“I’m sorry…..roll?”

Just as the question leaves your lips, the sound of wheels against linoleum is heard from down the hall. A woman in light green scrubs and a white lab coat rolls on her heels down the hallway. Nettles jogs behind her as she turns, coming to a stop in front of you. 

Her silver hair is shaggy, but the resemblance to Aemond is uncanny. A large butterfly pin holds some out of her face and she smiles brightly as you greet her. 

“Been waiting for you,” she says, holding a hand out for you to place your scans in, “Aemond told me all about you.”

You nearly choke on your saliva and Nettles’ eyes go round.

“He--he did?” you squeak.

“Mhmm,” Helaena says, flicking through the scans, “Quite the first day you had.”

“Oh right,” you say, relief washing through you.

“Glad you’re okay,” Helaena says, glancing up at you, “Nice bandaid.”

“Thanks,” you tell her.

“Cece Lannister,” she muses, “What is going on with you.”

“I was hoping you’d have thoughts,” you ask.

“Has she traveled anywhere recently?” Dr. Taragreyn asks, frowning at the scans, “You’re thinking it’s some sort of infection, correct?”

“Yes,” you tell her, “And I’m not sure about her travel history.”

“Find out,” she tells you, “If you’re going to find out what this is, you need to find out what caused it and where.”

She hands you the scans, smiling once more.

“Nice to meet you,” she says with a smile, “Officially this time.”

Your cheeks heat up. She knows. She remembers. You vaguely remember Aemond speaking with his sister before leaving; you’d barely caught a glimpse of her. 

“Yeah,” you agree, smiling weakly. 

You hurry off after that, eager to get back to Cece Lannister’s room to inquire about her recent travels. Walking down the hall you enter one of the many elevators, waiting patiently as it stops on nearly every floor, doctors coming in and out. 

Then it's just you and someone else, you look out of the corner of your eye and recognize him. 

Dr. Cole smiles at you.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks.

“Better, thanks to my cool bandaid, not the stitches and rest,” you tell him, cracking a smile.

“So cool,” he says with a laugh, “I had a kid give me a bandaid covered in oranges the other day.”

“Tropical,” you comment as the doors open.

“Good to see under better circumstances,” Dr. Cole says, beginning to exit, “Ah Dr. Targaryen.”

Your blood runs cold as Aemond enters the elevator.

“Will I be seeing you this afternoon?” Dr. Cole asks, “I’ve got an aneurysm clipping if you’re interested.”

“Always, if you’ll have me,” Aemond says, and Dr. Cole nods as the doors close. 

You’re alone. With him. Alone with him. Your heart pounds frantically in your chest, anxiety making your senses heighten. The elevator suddenly feels very small, and closed in; the air not being pushed through the vents quick enough. Aemond stares straight ahead, not looking at you and not attempting to engage in polite conversation. Your stomach sours and you swallow. 

“Hey,” you say tentatively. 

You glance at Aemond out of the corner of your eye and watch him look down at his feet. You scoff softly, annoyed by his ignoring of you. The elevator hums and your anger pools quickly in your belly; flames licking upwards to your face. 

“So you’re ignoring me now?” you ask, getting no reply, “Really mature.”

Aemond continues looking at his shoes, hands folded behind his back. 

“We’re colleagues, the least you could do is make polite conversation,” you huff, pressing the elevator button once more.

You know it won’t make it arrive quicker, but you need something to do with your hands. 

“And that whole thing with Jace?” you say, pressing the button again and again, “I don’t know what your problem is, but clearly that was an asshole move--”

Your hand is yanked away from the button, long fingers wrapping around your wrist and suddenly his lips are on yours. The hand around your wrist falls and both his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

Your anger dissipates almost immediately, as you link your arms around his neck fisting the hair at the nape of his neck. The moan this causes him to release, sends your knees buckling, and he brings one hand to your ass, squeezing harshly. 

Spearmint and tea. He tastes so good, mouth so warm and soft moving against your own you can’t help but whimper as he cradles your jaw with his free hand. Desire pools in your belly, and a desperate gasp leaves your lips.

Aemond drags his lips to kiss your jaw, and your neck as his opposite hand cradles the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. You’re so needy, so responsive to his touch, you want him so desperately, and then---

The elevator dings and you push away from each other, breathing heavily as the doors open and more residents and attendings enter. You quickly get your bearings springing out of the elevator and onto your floor. 

“Y/N!” Aemond calls, walking after you. 

Your pager goes off just as he reaches you, and you squint down at it. 

“Code White Cerelle Lannister,” you tell him, going numb with shock, “I just saw her-”

“Go,” Aemond says, before turning to a nurse, “That’s a medical emergency, page Dr. Helaena Targaryen!”

You hurry down the hallway, breaking out into a run as you enter Cerelle’s room. Dr. Baratheon is there already, Mrs. Lannister sobbing holding onto Cece’s stuffed lion. Cece’s sheets are soaked with sweat as she thrashes. 

Not sweat.

Blood.

It’s as if Cece is sweating blood. 

“Hematidrosis,” Dr. Baratheon says, readying a syringe, “Push one of epi.”

“Cece it’s gonna be okay,” you tell her, as Dr. Baratheon hands you the syringe. 

Cerelle’s eyes are wide, tears streaming down her face leaving clear rivers through his red-tinged cheeks. 

You give her the epinephrine. Slowly but surely her sweating ceases, and her forehead begins to dry. Her legs spasm, stronger than before. She’s getting worse. 

“Mrs. Lannister,” Dr. Baratheon says, trying to console the weeping woman, “Mrs. Lannister it’s alright. While Hematidrosis is quite disturbing, it’s not serious.”

“Not serious?!” Mrs. Lannister says in a shrill voice, eyes wide, “My daughter is sweating blood, and you’re telling me it’s not serious?”

“Paged,” Dr. Targareyn says entering the room, “Dr. Baratheon.”

“Mrs. Lannister, this is Dr. Helaena Targaryen, one of our pediatric surgeons and infectiology specialists.”

“Infecto..what?” Mrs. Lannister says as Helaena moves around Cece’s bed. 

Cece’s eyes are panicked and she holds onto your wrist with a vice-like grip.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you tell her, “Dr. Targaryen is just checking on you.”

Helaena brings out a penlight, instructing Cece to follow it with her eyes.

“Mrs. Lannister, have you traveled anywhere recently?” she asks, continuing her assessment. 

“Um,” Mrs. Lannister struggles to find words, placing a hand on her forehead and closing her eyes, “Yes. We got back a couple of weeks ago.”

“Where?”

“Naath. It was Cece’s idea, she’d been reading about the flora and fauna, she’s such a bright kid she loves all that stuff,” Mrs. Lannister says through tears.

Helaena smiles at Cece.

“I like that stuff too,” she tells the young girl, “Cece, what did you see on your trip? Any cool plants, bugs, animals?”

“L-lots,” Cece answers shakily, still holding on to you tightly.

“Tell me about them.”

“Um well…they’re famous for their butterflies,” Cece tells her, “They’re huge.”

“They are,” Helaena confirms, “I’ve never seen them in person, but I’d like to. Did you touch any butterflies?”

“Yes, but I washed my hands! Right after!”

“What color was the butterfly you touched?”

“There were so many--”

“Try and remember, the ones you know you touched.”

“Blue…..green…..one that was black and white,” she says teary-eyed, “Did the butterfly hurt me?”

“It didn’t mean to,” Helaena says softly, “They don’t know any better.”

“Butterfly fever. It’s a bacterial infection spread in Naath,” Helaena says to you and Dr. Baratheon outside Cece’s room, “She’ll need a routine of antibiotics, I can consult with my team on a proper regime.”

She turns to you.

“Good work,” she praises, “Butterfly fever can get pretty nasty. Skin sloughing off, and so forth.”

“She’s right, Y/L/N,” Dr. Baratheon praises, “Good work.”

“Thanks,” you tell her. 

After establishing Cece’s antibiotic treatment and giving it to the nurses' station, you make your way to the intern locker room. You quickly change out of your scrubs, eager to be back in normal clothes. Closing your locker, you check your phone. Jace, Sara, Cory, and Nettles have texted saying they’re waiting down in the lobby.

You leave the locker room, putting your phone in your pocket when you see him. Leaning against the door Aemond’s head turns as you walk out.

“Hey,” he says, straightening up. He’s still in scrubs, clearly, his shift isn’t over.

“Hey.”

He’s quiet for a moment, wetting his lips as he tries to find the words he wants to say.

“Look about earlier--”

“Aemond,” you cut him off, “We can either do this or not. You’re either in or out, but you have to make a decision.”

Aemond is silent, blue and violet eyes watching you. 

“What do you want?” he asks quietly.

“I just want you,” you answer honestly, “What do you want?”

“I….” Aemond struggles to speak, biting the tip of his tongue.

It’s not an outright rejection, but it still hurts like one. You sigh, looking down at your shoes. 

“I can’t decide for you,” you tell him, beginning to walk by, “That’s up to you.”

He doesn’t stop you as you continue to walk by, doesn’t reach out and pull you toward him. He lets you go. You find your friends in the lobby, force a smile on your face as you travel to the Dragon’s Den, and eagerly accept the tequila shots Cory buys you. There’s no text this time. 

Perhaps he made his choice. 

note: hope you liked it!! LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!

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[metalhoops]

O how he loves you, darling boy. Oh how, like always, he invents the monsters underneath the bed to get you to sleep next to him, chest to chest or chest to back, the covers drawn around you in an act of faith against the night. - Richard Siken

“There’s something outside my window.” 

Eddie stood in the doorway, shoulders slump and slack from lack of sleep. Steve knew this routine. They’d fallen into it unexpectedly. After Eddie got out of the hospital, he’d come to stay with Steve until they could clear his name. 

They’d hunkered down in his childhood home, the wooden walls of which Steve knew inspired wild imaginings. The shadows cast from the trees on the pool mixed with the silver moonlight and danced like the hair of a dead girl on the surface of the water. They were Steve’s demons. Eddie had brought his own to the Harrington’s house of horrors. 

Steve knew paranoia. They were old partners. Paranoia crept into your bed in the dead of night, apologised for waking you, and kept you guessing with its cold feet and fitful tossing. 

“Let me take a look,” Steve uttered, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. They dangled inches from the floor but in the blackness, they might as well be hanging over the edge of a precipice. 

He strode barefoot into the hallway, feeling the chill of death in the early April air. In the daylight, the hallway was metres. In the dead of night, it was miles. Eddie trailed after him, acting as a wave in the wake of a boat. In the night, anything could look like the black water of Lover’s Lake. Eddie’s breath on the nape of his neck was all Steve needed to remind himself he wasn’t drowning. 

He surveyed Eddie’s room, switching on the lights, opening the windows, and pacing in strange circles as though mapping sigils in the floor. He checked the closet and behind the door, before he crawled under the bed and felt Eddie slide in beside him. The two were crushed together in the small space, staring at mattress slates. 

There was an intimacy in the confined darkness and a strange, childlike comfort in hiding away from some unknown yet likely imaginary force. Steve felt the rise and fall of Eddie’s shoulders, signalling the slowing of his breath. There was nothing in the darkness, not yet, not anymore. 

“Can you stay here tonight?” Eddie asked. 

It wasn’t the first time he or Steve had posed the question but usually, there was more beating around the bush. They’d both grown tired of formalities. Steve had known the second Eddie showed up at his door that they’d end the night in the same bed. He liked it, more than he cared to admit, more than he should. Like many things in his life, Steve tried not to overthink it. 

“Yeah, long as we’re sleeping on the bed, not under it.” 

“I don’t know, man. You seen the view? That dust bunny? A must-see. That dead spider—.”

“The what?” Steve cursed, shifting closer to Eddie. He felt something crawl over his exposed ankles and kicked out against the blackness. 

“Cool it, karate kid, that was a joke,” Eddie cackled as Steve continued to mutter profanities under his breath as he crawled from under the bed. 

Eddie followed Steve’s awkward little army crawl, tugging at the boy’s ankle and dragging him backwards so he could take the lead. 

“Breaker, breaker this is Eddie the Banished calling for Top Gun King, do you read me,” Eddie breathed into the palm of his hand. Reenacting some unseen scenario Steve couldn’t quite follow. 

For a moment the boy wondered what his life would’ve been like, in another world where he and Eddie had grown up together, instead of himself and Tommy. He wondered if there would’ve been more years of strange yet striking whimsey, that Tommy and by default Steve, had grown out of at a startlingly young age. 

Eddie feigned a strange and static crackle as he clambered into bed and crawled beneath the covers. Steve followed, sliding in beside Eddie. The boy nudged his side as though waiting for something. 

“Rodger?” Steve attempted lamely. 

He wished he knew how Eddie mustered up the sudden lightness. He wanted to be a part of the world the boy escaped to in the dead of night when all Steve was left with were monsters and memories. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not good at this,” He apologised seeing Eddie’s wild eyes trained on him. 

Whenever they were together, Steve couldn’t help but feel like Eddie was asking something of him without saying it. Steve wanted nothing more than to give it to him. If only he could work out what it was. 

“It’s not hard once you’ve done it a few times. You’ve just gotta learn the magic of ‘yes, and.’ Let your hair down a little bit, boy wonder.” 

“I hate to break it to you, but my hair is as down as it gets... Since, you know...” Steve gestured vaguely at himself. 

Eddie’s eyes lingered on the hollow of his collarbones and the hint of chest hair, snaking like vines beneath his low-cut shirt. Steve noticed. He was good at noticing things. In the same way he knew Vicki liked women, he knew Eddie liked men. He was startlingly good at noticing that kind of thing. 

“Don’t wear Farrah Fawcett hairspray to bed? Colour me surprised,” Eddie spoke reaching out as though to touch Steve’s hair, before letting his hand fall in the space between them, thinking better of it.

That was the thing between them. They could sleep together but they couldn’t touch each other in the way they wanted. That would be admitting to something Steve wasn’t ready to commit to. It was his own personal secret, not from Eddie but from himself. Eddie was just a bystander bearing witness to the civil war of Steve’s heart and his better judgment. 

“Say your goodbyes to Henderson because next time I see him he’s dead,” Steve whispered. 

Eddie shifted, settling down for sleep as they’d done other nights. They never talked for long. If they talked it would be an admission that the two of them sleeping together was as much for pleasure as it was for necessity. Steve lay beside Eddie feeling as though his body were a room he was outside of. 

He tried to push the surge of emotions down, as he had all other nights. He felt as though he were holding his head underwater.

The past and the present tangled like fingers through unkempt hair. Unrelated guilts intertwined inextricably. Steve felt like he was drowning, laying beside the body of a boy he wanted to cling to like a life vest, while his eyes lay locked on the black shadow beyond the half-shut curtains. The swimming pool, where a girl had been dragged deep into the blackness. Steve was back at Lover’s Lake. He was in love and he was drowning. 

“Steve, are you okay?” Eddie was on his side, looking at Steve’s profile. 

His heart had circumnavigated his chest and worked its way up into his mouth, making it hard to breathe, hijacking his ears with the erratic beat. 

He tried to use Eddie’s voice to centre himself, to detangle the threads of history from histrionics, so all that would remain was himself and a boy in a bed with hair like history repeating. Steve had hands that wanted to undo time.

He remembered years before when Nancy had been the one that’d made his heartbeat throb like an infected wound. He knew logically, the emotions were the same. He’d sunk into Nancy’s body as one wades into deep water. He wondered what it’d be like to do the same to Eddie. Moreover, what it’d be like to be the water. To be a geyser by the ocean both filling and full. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

“I think I’m dying,” Steve whispered, finding his voice fractured by the thrum of his heart. Eddie’s face shifted to a look of understanding. 

Eddie’s hand was on his cheek, turning Steve to face him. 

“Look at me. You’re not dying,’ Eddie’s voice was stern and self-assured. 

Steve wanted to believe him. He couldn’t. Eddie’s fingers drew circles in his flesh. 

“Can I show you something?” Eddie asked. 

Steve’s throat was clogged shut, still holding his haemorrhaging heart. He nodded. 

“You’ve got something behind your ear,” Eddie muttered, pulling his hand back from Steve’s face to reveal his guitar pick, held on a necklace string. A magic trick.

It shook something loose, deep inside him. He doubled over, buried his face in Eddie’s shoulder and laughed. He took gasping inhales of Eddie’s skin, breathing in cigarette ash and musky cologne.

“That was so lame,” Steve gasped when he found his voice. 

“You loved it,” Eddie argued. 

“I loved it and it was lame,” he confirmed shaking his head. 

A hush fell over the boys. Not the quiet of sleep, but the stillness of contemplation. 

“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Eddie spoke, leaving it for Steve to pick up or push away. 

What was he supposed to say? ‘I want to kiss you and it scares me shitless.’ 

“I thought I saw something,” he replied lamely. 

Eddie’s brows furrowed. They both knew nothing was out there but when you’d been through what they had, some days logic wasn’t enough. It was a lie almost big enough to cover the scope of the truth. 

Eddie shifted, tucking his knee between Steve’s legs, pulling them together so the two were chest to chest, breath mingling.

“We’re fine,” Eddie said with conviction as though speaking the words could somehow make them true. 

They were back to the same old routine.  

The two boys lay crushed close together, leaving space in the sheets for all the things unspoken between them, all the vampiric night horrors that’d burn up come daylight. 

What would remain of the feelings come morning, Steve didn’t know but with his eyelids heavy and Eddie’s hand feather-light on his hip he stopped struggling against the tide of weary want and worry. He closed his eyes, leaned into Eddie’s body and let the feelings crash over his head, a wilful sort of drowning. 

[irazai]

 . . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 PLEASE STRIP ME! ; a fyodor dostoyevsky fic. ❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . till date this fic remains one of my favs. fyodor is so hot ugh.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; sugar daddy!fyodor, sugar baby!reader, fem!reader nsfw, angst in the beginning, confessions, hurt to comfort ig, riding, nipple pinching and sucking, fyodor refers to himself as "daddy", uses of term "dumb doll", fyodor is hot, and that's all ig.

the twilight sky outside analyzed the situation and told the stars about it who twinkled in amusement, all of them finding pleasure in your misery, like the man you gave your heart to.

you glance at the clock on the wall and then huff, turning away from its direction as if the clock was the one behind your emotional state, as if it were the clock who played with your heartstrings as if your heart was an instrument.

it's nearly one in the night and you are still sitting on the luxurious bed with your back against the headboard, reminiscing about the first time you sat on this very bed and felt the same feeling of being an outcast, as if you are a foreign to this luxury -- which you are.

your hands gripped your silk night gown which reached till your midthighs, a very revealing and loose one at that. you bit your lip to produce pain which had the ability to divert your attention away from the aching in your heart.

alas, it worked but in ways you didn't expect. for the physical pain of harshly biting down on your bottom lip was the cheery on top needed by your brain to stimulate a signal which made the dams in your eyes open up, moistoning your eyes and blurring your vision.

at the same moment, the man behind this reaction tried to slowly open the door without making any noise but once he saw the lamp lights on beside the nightstand near the bed, he raised his eyebrows.

fyodor didn't expect you to be awake at this hour and he made sure you knew about this by the way he continued to look at you even while closing the door and walking towards you.

a heart heavier then your brain which is littered with opposing thoughts, you sit straight and look at fyodor, taking a deep breath for the oxygen will be knocked out of you very soon by your own heart.

"what is wrong? can't sleep? is the dress not to your liking?" voiced the man whose cold voice could put even snowy lands to shame, a man who held too much interest in his eyes but too little in his tone for fyodor dostoyevsky is an enigma. even to you who had been with him for more than a year now.

you do not answer, no, you can not. your eyes frantically scan over his features, those soft lips which you can kiss only in your dreams, that pale skin which makes you wonder just how good would it look with love bites, the sharp jaw you want to cup and kiss and lastly, those damned  eyes.

the rich dark purple which shines brightly despite those tired looking eyes can captivate you, play you like a doll and you won't even realise for the one who admires the castle won't see the blood, sweat and tears of those who made it.

you gulp, your heart beat being the only sound you heard for a minute or two before you shook your head. ". . .i wanted . . . to talk to you."

why is your voice such a contrast to his? his confident voice puts your quiet and nervous one to shame.

fyodor hums, stepping towards his side of the bed as he lays down with a sigh and after mentally pushing yourself with the reminder that it's either now or never ; you swiftly move to be on top of fyodor, your knees planted on the soft mattress on either sides of his waist as you look down at him with sorrowful eyes.

"aren't i attractive to you? or am i not your type?" murmuring the harsh words which have been piercing your mind ever since you realised you fell for the very man who never kissed you, who made it clear that your presence was something he could buy and he did.

"generally having a sugar daddy and sugar baby relationship means a mutual benefit. sex or sexual favors in exchange of money. of course it varies with different people but . . . paying me only to have my company . . . don't you ever wish to have some more?" your voice -- is it doing justice to convey all your pent up emotions and feelings? you wonder.

now, fyodor is a man of rationality and cold logic but even he is a human.

how can you not see the way he is gulping thickly, able to outline and picture your cunt as the flimsy lingere nightgown is doing its purpose of letting his imagination run loose. the way you are leaning down to be closer to him caused one of the thin straps of the nightgown to fall off your shoulders and near your elbow, allowing fyodor a glimpse of just a small portion of your cleavage.

how can fyodor focus on your words when your lips look so pouty and eyes so moistened? lord, oh lord, you answered his prayers, didn't you?

oh dear lord, is this angel on top of him his to corrupt?

"tell me, why won't you touch me? let me fulfill my duty as a sugarbaby. let me satisfy you sometimes fyodor." you softly let out, staring at him and fyodor, oh fyodor, what are you doing?

why are you pulling on the angel's other strap and letting it fall down her elbow? do you not know your patience and self control is running thin?

you can't do it. you aren't fyodor to conceal your emotions and feelings deep within the chambers of your mind.

so you allow a sob to travel through your throat, allowing it the freedom to be freed and let fyodor hear it, you let him hear your misery.

"you always do this. these actions of yours make me feel as if you desire me too . . . only for you to shut me out by acting cold and distant again." your voice is strained, cracking even as your vocal chord is being choked by the nimble hands of sadness.

"am i some kind of a doll to you? who you can play with as much as you want?" your words don't seem to have any effect on the russian below you whose expressions haven't changed a bit.

it's always this cold and calm look of his which you hate but oh, how you love it too.

and fyodor noticed it. he always does. the way the corner of your eyes soften as your eyes go all doe like whenever you admire his features but he doesn't like how that softness is always shielded by a sheet of longing and sadness.

"if you were to tell me to dance on fire for you, i would gladly become one with the fire for its not the fire which burns me but your coldness, fyodor." you confess, biting your bottom lip in a fragile attempt to stop or hide their quivering but this action of your's, the furrowed eyebrows and the slightly red eyes of your's makes you look all the more appealing to fyodor.

"have i done something to make you feel like so? don't cry. didn't i tell you? your presence brings me joy, your opinions and perspectives are intresting enough for me to spend enough to have you by my side. why? are you not satisfied? do you want more? tell me what you want and it's your's, you know there is no limit to what i've to offer to you." the cold and calm tone accompanied with the russain accent is a voice you hear daily yet still can't get enough of.

you shake your head. no, he can't offer you what you desire.

"i don't want your wealth anymore. i want your love and that's the only thing you can't offer." you weakly mutter and close your eyes, waterfalls of heartbreak wetting your cheeks for even you know that your desire is a painful lie you live in and hope to achieve.

fyodor feels the tightening of his pants and the slight hardening of his cock at your soft sniffles, god, how vile is he to get turned on by your sniffles of sorrow?

"sweet doll, do you think my affection for you is fake? . . . is that what you think? are you getting bored of me? do you want to leave?" fyodor asks, his voice a bit sad, looking at you whose eyes are still closed and hearing his words make you cry even more as you now don't feel shy or hide your sobs, letting them out in the open for fyodor to hear for maybe then, he could understand your feelings.

these simple words are not your breaking point. the sadness lingering in his tone is. the subtle frown which you are sure is adorning his mouth is. those affectionate touches and him being more touchy with you since the past two months only to distance himself from you before things could escalate further is.

the way his hands immediately cling onto your hips as they squeeze your hips tightly but in a comforting manner is.

"i love you! i love you! why are you so smart yet stupid to realise this!? i don't want to be a dumb sugar baby who is happy with a little bit of attention! that won't work for me! i need all of your attention, all of you! fyodor i need you! i need your love, i want your love!" you sob loudly and oh, oh.

not only did you reach your breaking point tonight, fyodor did too.

his grip on your hips tightened and his eyes went a bit dark, more sharper.

"stop testing my patience dumb doll." was a sentence which was enough to make you straighten up and behave yourself, but not tonight. oh definitely not tonight.

tonight you will pour your heart out to him and wait for his judgment.

"i try so hard to make you notice me, to seduce you yet none of them work . . . am I that unattractive? or are you in love with someone else? are you even capable of loving fyodor? capable of loving me?" you stare down at him, eyes sad and lips parted to let quick and short breaths escape along with occasional sobs.

the tears stopped coming long ago as the anguish converted into a cold calmness of sadness and the ones which flowed down your cheek began to dry up but left their trail there for fyodor to see.

this was it. the final push fyodor needed for him to pour out his feelings, his emotions and his pent up desires.

fyodor scoffs in amusement and only tightens his grip on your hips more, enough to leave a bruise and tight enough to immobilize you.

"dumb doll, how can you say all that when you don't even know the thoughts in my head everytime i see you? do you know what i think everytime i make you wear these sexy nightgowns?" fyodor's voice is low and seductive yet it has that soft edge to it and you purse your lips in embarrassment as you feel the wet pool in your core and you know fyodor felt it too or he wouldn't have smirked the way he did, so arrogantly yet arrogance looks good on him, sexy if you may add.

hands of temptation belongs to fyodor as he lets his hands run up and down your curves.

"not treat you like a doll? nonsense. you are my doll, how can i not treat you like one? so fragile and magnificent, all for me." the last part wasn't a hope or wish but a statement. fyodor wasn't asking you to be his, he already made you his when he first paid you for spending time with him.

"do you even know what i think every time i look at you, especially when you look so preety when you are sad?" the smooth voice holding onto the calm and collected tone which made it clear to the receiver that fyodor isn't just any human but a part of the rare percentage who are unbelievably majestic, lured you in, you wondered often if he is a siren.

you shook your head as a no, sniffling occasionally as fyodor's hand went lower towards the hem of your nightgown, he played with it as he said,

"i wish," he muttered, looking at your lips before he looked up at your eyes again, lifting the hem of your nightgown.

"to strip you of your clothes and feel your body . . . with your soft, smooth skin . . ."

you part your lips as you let out a soft gasp, feeling fyodor's cold fingers trail the flesh of your ass before he gripped one of your buttocks and he squeezed it roughtly between his cold fingers as if to show you how your last claim of heartbreak angered him.

hearing your gasp, fyodor smiles seductively, and eyes you, admiring the cut of the dress which was loose enough to give him a glimpse of your cleavage, the way your hair fell all over your face and the way you were basically straddling him which resulted in your nightgown to ride up.

"you say all this but your actions proved otherwise" you furrow your eyebrows as you mutter and the man beneath you just continues to eye you in a more intense, vulgar way.

“to touch you . . . in the most intimate places, but how can i? you know i am a man whose morals and beliefs shape him. so how can i think about you in such a way which contrasts my beliefs?” did he ask you? you weren't sure, your focus was on his hand which went towards your hip and grabbed it.

you part your lips, letting out a shaky breath as fyodor's fingers dig into your skin to grip it while his thumb applies slight pleasure to your hip, it feels as if he is trying to memorize the way your skin feels against him.

“how can i ignore my desires any longer? my desires to kiss you . . .” fyodor's eyes move up and down your body in a perfect coordination with his hands which grab your shoulders, kneading onto them as he then trails his hands down your arms and towards your wrists.

not only is your breath a bit frantic but so is his.

angel, oh angel, is this not enough for you to open your eyes and let go of that foreskaen purity?

oh let the drug who is injected into your veins, begin it works.

you took the drug yourself. the drug named fyodor dostoyevsky.

“and to taste your sweetness.” fyodor tugs on your wrist making you lean near him more.

"my beliefs and morals are what shaped me but you are what makes me feel human. my desires towards you knows no limit so don't ever try to question my emotions and feelings towards you. or i'll make another use of that preety mouth of your's." he whispers that last sentence.

broken. the thread of fyodor's self resistance and control broke.

fyodor pushes your head towards him, pressing his lips against your's as he begins to kiss you, he had always known his feelings would be reciprocated but it sure did feel good to have your lips move against his.

dancing in sin, the music is provided by the short and hot breaths you two share, you could feel your core throb as you placed one of your hands on the bed to stabilize yourself and the other on fyodor's cheek, caressing the skin you dreamt of littering in your marks and kisses.

like a snake, fyodor's hands slithered towards your back to push it to have you more closer towards him.

after a long while, you pull back to catch your breath, looking at fyodor as you parted your lips to speak but how can he just hear words leaving those wet and slightly swollen lips?

oh no. absolutely not.

fyodor pushed himself up slightly to capture your lips in a heated kiss again, elbow propped against the bed while with the other hand, he brushed your hair to the side.

you closed your eyes just like the russain beneath you, trying to appreciate every single movement made by his lips, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip before it entered your mouth and his occasional biting down on your bottom lip.

when he pulls back again to let both of you recover from the lack of oxygen, fyodor chuckles breathlessly.

"fuck it." he mutters a curse before changing your positions, making you lay on your back as his lips cling onto your's yours in a desperate manner, clinging onto you like how a water droplet clings onto the edge of a leaf, wet sounds produced due to the kisses shared between you two were the epitome of just how sinful the night will get from here on.

fyodor is desperate.

more.

more and more.

oh lord, he knew once he started, he won't be able to stop and look, now he is tainting this angel of your's.

what will you do now when he is not letting the angel breath, continuously kissing her, one after the another -- you will do nothing, whatever needs to be done will be decided by the god under whose mercy the angel's heart is.

your heart beating is frantic but not more then the arousal which is aggressively coursing through your veins, you try to clench your legs to stop the slick from dripping on your panties but fyodor's hand on your inner thigh had forced you to keep your leg open.

fyodor leaned down to plant soft kisses on your lips, chin and jaw, trailing the wet kisses as to crave a path of his love.

"i will only ask once for my patience is thin right now, so tell me, sweet doll, tell me if you want this," fyodor leans up to capture your lips in a quick kiss again, "because once i have my way, i'll never let you leave me."  he whispers, eyes trailing up to stare at your face and can you really say no to those purple eyes which were hypnotic enough to make your breathing stop midway.

"you are sounding like a big talker right now--" your words were cut short by the gasp which left your lips when fyodor's hand which was on your inner thigh had trailed up to press his thumb against your wet core.

"big talker? i'll show you that i don't speak empty words, dumb doll." fyodor smirks, the silence of the night didn't find it offending how his voice cut through the calm and hot atmosphere and rather they found it just as soothing as you, the russian could almost be passed as a god with the way the moonlight falling from the opened windows reflected his pale skin and dark irises, and oh, you closed your eyes as you exhaled shakily.

"please . . . please strip me. fuck me. i made myself clear too, no? i want you, your touch, your lips all over me. hah . . . you are no saint, you are the devil. stop fucking with these morals and just fuck me fyodor!" you beg, voice proving your desperation and neediness to have the russian all over you, to make your dreams which you hide in the darkest depths of your heart a reality.

fyodor began to rub his thumb over your wet core, rubbing against the sensitive bud with nothing but your panties to restrict the pleasure he created.

and is he really the god of your heart if he doesn't listen to your prayers?

"then let me show you just how much i desire you and once i am done, you'll be chanting my name like a prayer and when i repeat this all tomorrow? oh doll," fyodor coos the last part, biting his lip as he chuckled, "my dolly, my sweet sweet dolly, you won't even know if you are on earth or in heaven."

fyodor didn't hear your reply, immediately moving down to bite on your collarbone which he was only ever able to brush his fingers against for the past few months when he realised that maybe he wants to keep you by his side for as long as he can and could for fyodor doesn't think he has feelings for you as strong as to call them love.

fyodor sucked on your collarbone, licking it after before he looked up at you again, overcoming by the sudden urge to look at your face and the sight of your parted lips and barely opened eyes upon receiving such a small portion of pleasure made you look pure in fyodor's eyes, not to mention the moonlight falling on half of your body had only made you look more ethereal.

the nightgown straps barely on your elbows anymore as they revealed the upper portion of your cleavage and fyodor immediately knew that he had to free you from the fabric which is an obstacle for his hands from exploring your curves and body.

fyodor leans up on his arm, using the other to hook his index finger on your strap, pulling it down your arm, you raised your arm to help him slip the strap out with ease and once fyodor slipped both the straps off, he ripped the nightgown apart with his hand, immediately clinging his lips onto your naked breasts.

it started off as a single lick against your nipple before he went back to swirl his tongue against it, flickering it with his tongue.

then the sensation increased as his fingers trailed up your thighs and slipped into the nightgown, continuing their path up your other breast as he grazed the nipple with his nail before flickering it with his finger.

soon his index and middle finger squeezed the nipple between them, pulling on it as it made you hiss and fyodor smirked against your breast.

fyodor found pleasure in hearing your short breaths and gasps of pleasure and he would've loved to go and tease you for hours, manipulating you into thinking he is finally giving in to touch you, only for him to prove you wrong . . . only if it weren't for his painfully hard boner.

fyodor clicked his tongue before he grabbed your hips with both of his hands and rolled over with you on top of him once again as he looked up at you with that devilish smirk on his face, minute sweatbeads were beginning to form on his forehead and if you squint enough, you could see him gulping.

"be my good doll and ride me and tell me all your complaints. sweet doll, i will listen to every complain of your's today" fyodor tells you, hands slowly removing your panties as you lift yourself up to help him, he throws it away, not bothering to remove his sweatpants or anything as he immediately guides you to sit on his crotch, moving your hips to create some friction to ease his painfully hard erection, silently gasping as you slick wets his fabric.

fyodor smirks as his eyes remain closed, teasing you, "go on sweet doll, begin complaining to your daddy."

and when you nod, your head tilted back as you close your eyes and begin to move back and forth on his clothed boner, fyodor's eyes couldn't tear away from you ; your nightgown which was now rolled down and ripped to reveal your clevage, the slight pink mark appearing on your collar bone and your hair which fell infront of your face -- fyodor sucked in a breath.

his cold hands came to restrict your hips as he tapped once, you got the signal and you lifted yourself up slightly and watch fyodor skillfully remove his sweatpants and briefs with one hand, stroking his hardened and aggressive cock a few times before he rubbed the tip against your folds to get your slick on the tip, rubbing the length against your inner thighs which had slick dripping down.

"sit." he commanded a bit too softly to match the fire of lust blazing in his purple irises and if you paid enough attention to look past the pleasure and pain of sinking down on his cock, you could've seen the way his irises were dilated and reflected your image in them then you could've understood how deeply and intensely fyodor always stares at you.

a pained whimper left your lips as you settle down on his cock, feeling it strech your walls for the very first time. your fingers can't even fathom the sensation of his cock and now that you finally have it inside you, you know no one else, not even your own fingers or the finest toys out there, could satisfy you the way he is going to for the reason is simple, the same way the heart has no use if there is no blood left for it to pump, there is no libido in you if there is no fyodor.

for the sight of the man makes your brain fall into the lap of arousal and submit yourself to it, to fyodor.

"i am your doll? then why don't you cherish me and love me? why do you act as if we are just two partners in a deal? i am not one of your business partners, don't treat me professionally like you treat them" you grit your teeth, trying to get used to the pain.

you move up when you feel the pain become a bit bearable, going down on his cock as a choked breath leaves you and fyodor's eyes widen ; you move up and down his cock again, biting your lip in pain but the face you make as you are in pain yet try to give pleasure to him -- oh what a sight.

"you claim to love me? dumb man --" you let out a gasp, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as he sucked in a breath, "you are so smart yet how can you be so oblivious that your coldness makes me think you don't even like me?"

and suddenly, fyodor is hyper aware of his surroundings of how the bedsheet moves with your movements, the wet squelch as his cock enters and leaves your hole and your and his grunts and pants filling the entire room.

the hair falling on your face sticked to your forehead as you begin to move more on his cock.

fyodor parts his lips, your furrowed eyebrows relaxes as you let out a breath of relief, feeling the pain slowly turning into pleasure and fyodor did not stop himself or try to fool himself into believing he is superior when he leaned forwards, elbow propping against the bed as he brought his other hand towards your face and gently tucked the hair strands sticking to your forehead away, staring at you with a fond smile and suddenly everything makes sense, the sudden urge to touch you since the past few months, to whisper into your ears and watch you get shy and to give you whatever you desire, it all makes sense to him now for no one understood human emotions better then fyodor but to feel them, that's a different thing and he finally did.

"touch me, kiss me, caress me and let me do the same to you, you don't know, no one else can compare to you, you've me wrapped around your preety fingers. and it angers me to think someone else will claim you as her's one day. it isn't fair! you are mine, you should be mine, i don't want anyone else to have you except me. you are the type i want to marr--"

"i love you, my dumb doll." fyodor intrupted you as he breaths out, hand coming down to gently squeeze your nape, the sudden desire he felt is something he won't deny anymore as he pushes your nape forwards to once again have your lips against his.

your eyes widened, you've known fyodor enough to know words of affections are foreign to him so to hear him speak the purest words of intimation?

oh how your heart surrendered to him once more, how it bowed to him and was ready to bend to his will.

"i. love. you." with each word he spoke against your lips, he thrusted his hips upwards and relished as you moaned.

"i. love. you." he once again emphasized to let you hear him loud and clear, sucking on your bottom lip before pulling back and grabbing your chin with his index finger and thumb.

"you hear me? are my words reaching your ears, my doll? i love you."  fyodor gritted his teeth, looking at your widened eyes and parted lips and how he resisted the urge to utterly ruin you and have you cry out his name as he saw how tears glistened and flowed down your cheeks.

"go on, confess the feelings you've always bottled up, my baby doll. and don't you dare stop no matter what, speak. tell your daddy how much you love him." fyodor commands, pinching your chin as he smiled seductively, pulling your chin closer to plant a small kiss on the corner of your lips, before he moved towards your lips to nibble on your upper lip.

fyodor pulled back and his purple eyes shined devilishly as he pulled on your nipple. "move your body and your lips, my doll. daddy is all your's. wanna wife you before the sun rises tomorrow yet i can't do that without knowing if you feel the same, can i? open that mouth and complain, after all, when have i ever denied you desires and wishes?"

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Three

☁︎ notes: sorry it took so long to get this one out 💛

Clementia really is the goddess of mercy and healing but I made up the part about the feathers. There will be more half real/half made up references to mythology so buckle in lol also Eris is kind of Cardan-coded in this chapter

☁︎ warnings: talk of injuries, talk of Beron's abuse, drunk characters

☁︎ word count: 1.9k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @cauldronblssd @mybestfriendmademe @teddyhoneybear @tele86 @imma-too-many-fandoms @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove

The ring summoned Aya again nearly a week later, just as she had finally made it back to her dorm room in the Healer’s wing. Lessons had run late, after which she had been called to a family dinner by Thesan. Her feet were sore and the pair of clean pajamas waiting on her bed called to her. Her heart leapt into her throat at the thought of what sort of injuries had prompted that ring to glow, regret sinking its claws deeper into her gut. Another long night of keeping Eris’s soul tethered to his being?

She heaved a deep sigh, shouldered her bag once more, and winnowed away from her cozy room.

The designated winnow spot was in Edana’s private courtyard, surrounded on all four sides by her rooms. The Lady had carved a spot out of the wards - or had bribed someone to do it. Edana or one of her two trusted guards were to wait for Aya in the courtyard. The written copy of the bargain details instructed that if anyone else were to ever greet her, she was to winnow back to the Dawn Court without speaking to them.

All very calming, naturally.

Tonight, one of Edana’s guards met Aya in the courtyard, which she considered a good sign. The guard did not say anything, only nodded in greeting before turning on his heel. Aya shivered in the Autumn chill and trailed after him. No one had told Aya the guards’ names yet, and she was too shy to ask. They were a little intimidating, stone-faced and armed to the teeth. Obviously, they cared about Edana's safety a great deal, and she had not stopped to wonder what they thought of the Lady hiring a strange healer and adding her piece to this hidden game board.

The dark-haired man led her through Edana’s sitting room to the stone passageways. She followed him through the dim, winding halls, finding them to be as deathly silent as the first night. She was beginning to wonder if the whole house had a curfew, or if they had all simply adopted this code of silence as a means of survival. Everything had been tainted such a suspicious color after that first night.

His feet made no sound against the stone floor, even in those heavy, clunky-soled boots. Aya followed suit, keeping her steps light, though her satin slippers would not have made much noise anyways.

When she crossed through the wards into Eris’s rooms, a wall of commotion wrapped itself around her, such a contrast from the silent hall that it made her jump. Eris was cursing and arguing with his mother, the second guard attempting to aid her in holding him down. Aya’s widened eyes flicked to the couch by the hearth where a bruised and bleeding man lay unconscious. Or sleeping. He was nearly a copy of Eris - redheaded and tall, with broader shoulders and bulky muscles.

“They got drunk and had a fight,” Edana sighed as Aya made her way to the big bed.

“Bastard had it coming,” Eris spat loudly, trying again to free his arm from his mother’s grasp."

“Stay still,” Edana snapped, “You were stabbed, for Mother’s sake.”

Aya gasped at that, and Eris turned his head toward the sound. He had not even noticed her come in, too focused on earning his freedom. When his gaze landed on the healer he let out a cry of delight and held a bloody hand toward her without even so much as wincing.

“All is well,” Eris pronounced, “Clementia has arrived.”

“Hush,” Edana hissed, “Or your father will hear you.”

Aya’s skin felt hot, her stomach dropping in fear of the knowledge that the High Lord was at home tonight. She chewed her lip and set her satchel on the edge of the bed. Eris was still as a statue now, watching her with interest.

“Clementia is an angel of mercy,” Edana said to Aya, rolling her eyes as other guard chuckled. “He likes to read mythology.”

Aya’s cheeks burned and she looked down at the heir, his amber eyes fixed on her. She shook her head and grabbed a wet rag from the side table. She was familiar with Clementia’s legend but she had not made the connection of who Eris thought she was.

“Did you receive my prayer of thanks?” Eris asked, a hand clutched to his chest like he must brace himself in her presence. He still did not wince as she pulled up his shirt and began to clean his injury. It was shallow for a stab wound, but it certainly would not heal well if he started thrashing around again. She could humor him if it meant he stayed calm.

The second guard, blond and bearded, started to laugh at Eris’s smitten gaze, but Edana shot him a look that shut him up. The Lady turned her attention to her other son, out cold on the couch.

“Yes,” Aya said to Eris, gently moving away the hand that attempted to cover his wound. His bloody fingers wrapped around hers and held on. It was likely he was so drunk that he was not feeling the full effect of his injury. “It was lovely. Please stay still, Eris.”

“Yes, angel,” Eris breathed.

Aya kept her eyes on her work and did not dare look at the glowering Lady or her giggling guardian. She knew it sounded like a pet name. But she didn’t think she minded much, not with how lovely it sounded falling from his lips.

Eris stayed quiet now, obedient to her every command. He watched her with such reverence in his eyes, as if still surprised she had appeared, worried she may go away again at any moment. If only he knew she was just another healer from the Dawn Court, no benevolent angel of mercy.

She wondered if he’d ever truly know her or if all of their meetings would be this way - inebriated or delusional from blood loss. And she hoped for both their sakes that the next time would be different. And maybe a part of her hoped to meet him in a state where she could really learn something about him. Something to compare to the rumors. All she knew at the moment was that he liked mythology. And that he fought like a hellcat when drunk.

“Beron would not approve of them fighting, would he?” She asked as she worked, her voice soft. Every movement tracked by those diligent amber eyes.

“Not in this manner, no,” Lady Edana answered, returning to Eris's bedside, “Not without his command, at least. He sees more honor in besting each other with strategy.”

Of course he would. Only Beron’s hand could inflict pain. That was how he stayed in control. Everyone else must impress him by playing his games perfectly. Aya had never expected to gain so much knowledge about the Autumn Court’s High Family and everything she learned made her more grateful for her own court and Thesan’s gentle rule. It also illuminated another aspect of Edana's secrecy.

This foolish behavior was a stark contrast to the tales and rumors of the Autumn sons, with their father’s brutality and their mother's brains. It certainly dimmed the intimidation to see that hulking brother passed out, mouth open and drooling on the velvet couch. Whatever Aya saw gave her power. And that golden ring took it away again. Edana did not yet know that she had picked someone with such an ambivalent heart. Capable of indifference and yet undecided.

When Aya finished dressing Eris’s wound and cleaning his filthy hands, she slipped a sleeping pill into his water and gave his shoulder a pat.

“Sleep well Eris,” She said, eager to get away from his relentless stare. Then she turned back and added sharply, “And listen to your mother.”

She shifted, about to make her way to the brother on the couch, but Eris’s voice stopped her.

“May I have a feather?” He asked, his voice remarkably soft compared to his terrible volume control from before.

“What?” Aya asked, hoping their audience did not notice the break in her voice. She knew the myth. That Clementia bestowed a feather upon her favored for luck.

“May I have a feather for luck?” He asked again, the gleam in his eye so hopeful it was almost painful.

For a moment, she considered it. It wouldn’t mean much, it would quiet him down and that would be that. But the weight of the Dawn Court customs would not release her. The tips of her ears grew hot, thinking of plucking a feather and handing it to him. Feathers were for honor, promises, and love. Even in the far friendlier, casual environment of her court, it wouldn't be seen as appropriate.

“You’re lucky enough just to be in her presence, you oaf,” Edana muttered, shaking Aya from her stupor. Eris frowned but he didn’t argue. He looked resigned, like he agreed with his mother's sentiment.

Aya silently thanked Edana and turned her attention toward the couch once more. The brother was not in terrible shape, with just a scattering of bruises and small cuts that would heal by morning. Luckily, he was far too drunk to remember anything by tomorrow. She hoped that Eris would not remember any of this either.

She had not failed to notice Eris’s split knuckles and she wondered what this brother had said to provoke him so. She might have asked, as they had humored all of her questions so far. But it seemed that neither Lady Edana nor her guards wanted to meet her eye as she inspected the younger Vanserra. As if there was something about this fight they were not saying. Or perhaps they were just embarrassed.

Aya told herself she did not care either way. She had decided, throughout the course of this visit, not to ask any more prying questions or sleuth or try to solve anything. She could not help her curiosity, but Thesan had ordered her not to meddle. And every answer to every question sat heavy like a stone in her heart. She did not want to carry all of that with her, anyways. So she finished patching up the anonymous brother, left a tonic one for the now-sleeping Eris, and returned to the comfort of the Dawn Court.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The next morning, Eris’s shame pestered him as incessantly as his headache. Twice now, this poor healer had had to witness him in such a pathetic state. Gods knew what he had said last night. His mother wouldn’t tell him. She told him it was his punishment for being so foolish that he had to wonder what embarrassing things he may have said.

The only hint he got was in the note the healer had left him, beside a tin of fresh balm for his scars and a tonic for the hangover.

Drink lots of water, avoid stretching your wound. I look forward to your next prayer of thanks.

Your angel,

Aya

Eris blushed and cursed himself for it. He hadn’t known her name and had gotten into the habit of referring to her as Clementia in his mind. It must have slipped out.

He remembered little glimpses of what she looked like. Warm brown skin, eyes of lilac-grey, and small, capable hands. His fingers went to the wound in his side. Once again, he had been healed impeccably. This one had left a scar barely an inch long.

He had yet to thank her for all that she’d done and he wished that he could. But he did not know where to reach her or what a proper gift might look like.

Without him even realizing, without even having property met, she had begun to haunt his thoughts. Like a guardian angel, only a shadow of wings at the edge of his vision.

[twdeadfanfic]

Snuggling with Daryl after a run...

Just a small, plotless but (hopefully) fluffy ficlet that came to my mind while I was working.

I hope you can enjoy it.

You ran your fingers through Daryl’s hair, working the shampoo into his roots, your own hair already shampooed and washed. For someone who had grumbled and rolled his eyes while you made him get into the shower with you, instead of letting him flop down onto the bed already, after you two came back from the run, Daryl seemed pretty content right now while you caressed his hair, eyes closed and leaning against you, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he went ahead and purred. You didn’t say anything, though.

Alexandria might have its ups and downs, but being able to shower with actual hot water when you needed it was for sure a plus.

The run hadn’t been a particularly hard one, but you were tired anyway, you understood wanting to just lie down for a spare moment, but still, you knew you had to wash the mud that you had on you from digging some walker-traps outside Alexandria. Your comfy bed was another Alexandria plus and you didn’t want to get it full of mud.

Soon, you and Daryl were clean and on your way to bed…no matter the sun was still up outside, by now you both had been working out there for almost sixteen hours, so you were pretty sure you both deserved a nap.

You closed the curtains while Daryl dropped down on the bed with a sigh, and you knew he was tired too, even though you knew that if right now someone barged through the door, asking him to do something, he’d say yes and get right to it as if he didn’t need the rest. He was an over-worker and he always fought you on it when you told him so. But right now, he too looked pretty done with the day, eyes already closed as he tried to get comfortable despite aches and sore muscles.

Crawling on the bed and pretty much over Daryl, you let out a content sigh of your own as you lied over his bare chest, and sure, the pillow would be fluffier and softer than Daryl’s firm chest, but you’d much rather lie there.

It didn’t take a second for Daryl’s strong arms to wrap around you as you curled up to him, and you felt the vibration on his chest as he hummed contently, nuzzling your hair before resting his chin on top of your head, while his fingers absentmindedly drew lazy patterns over the skin of your shoulder and arm.

There was no better way of sleeping, you were sure of that, no other way in which you could feel more cared for and loved, more comfortable and warm, neither safer, and you had to wonder how had you ever slept before you got lucky enough to share a bed with Daryl.

The sun was setting and you were more asleep when you finally rolled off Daryl’s chest…you didn’t move far, though, just turning to your side, facing the wall while Daryl turned with you so his chest was pressed against your back, his arm wrapping around you to keep you close, nuzzling your hair again, and you let out a sleepy, happy mumble.

No better way of sleeping for sure…

You loved it too, though, when it was the opposite around, when Daryl was the one half lying over you, head pillowed on your chest, his warm weight comforting over you, or when you were the one holding him, arm around him as you snuggled to his back, trying to infuse him with as much love, care and protection as you felt he deserved…you knew he hadn’t gotten much of that, or even any, during his life…but you’d make up for that lack of it now.

Still…you were sure there was no way you could feel safer than sleeping like that, the warmth of Daryl’s chest reassuring behind you, his strong arm protectively wrapped around you…Even if you were asleep in a world full of threats, when you slept like that, it felt as if nothing could ever harm you.

*

Thanks for reading, please leave a comment if you can, and as always, excuse my English.

[levis-coffeecup]

chapter 29| Turning Page

WC-6.5k

Summary

The underground is filthy and dark. Dim lights, dull alleys, and desperate hearts. A place Levi knows as well as the back of his hand, and a place he would do anything to get out of.

Chapters of life roll by and with the turn of a page, things drastically change. In front of him is the opportunity to live on the surface. And the flimsy bridge that he has to cross. From an uncivil criminal to a disciplined soldier.

But life on the surface seems tougher amidst all the mockery, civilities, and the gaping hole left in his heart, after the demise of his dear friends Isabel and Farlan.

Content/Warnings

canon- compliant, canon-typical violence, spoilers for No Regrets OVA, descriptions of PTSD, grief, depression, heavy angst and themes, strong language, self-hate, physical assault.

Author’s Note

OMG hiii guysss!

Can't believe that this is the last chapter!! There's so much gratitude in my heart right now. This has been a long long (irregular🤡) ride, and I'm grateful to everyone who's sticked around!

I've tried my best to write an amazing chapter since its the last, which is why this got so delayed. (And I might also have been overworked to the core at work lol ) But there's going to be a long ass note at the the end of the chapter about everything!

Song for the final chapter is by Turning Page by Sleeping at Last!

I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Chapters

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Masterlist | Playlist | Other Works

APRIL 857

It’s an hour past 12, and Levi sits on his balcony looking at the midnight sky.

The thick veil of pollution prevents the stars from being visible. Instead there's street lights and high beams from cars, twinkling on the ground.

He misses the stars from Paradis. It was the first thing he fell in love with once he came to the surface. And he wonders, whether Mae is looking at the stars and thinking of him as well?

The world outside the walls is beautiful.

There are soaring cathedrals that almost reach the sky, and beautiful temples with the most intricate architecture. There’s snow capped mountains and beautiful cherry blossoms. And everyday, from his tiny balcony, he gets to see the sun sink below the sharp silhouette of the towers.

He’s getting to experience the world his comrades died for.

But as beautiful the outside world is, it isn’t home

The development of technology seems unfamiliar. And the people around him haven’t lived their entire lives caged in fear. These people don’t know the cost of freedom.

It has been so long since he’s been back home.

It’s been so long since the Rumbling too.

The earth was left razen. Mountains crumbled to dust and forests burnt to ashes. Countries had simply been wiped off the face of the earth. Years of civilization and developmentsnuffed out in an instant, with no one to record their names.

But against the odds, humanity managed to survive. Traumatized and beaten, but still alive.

Miraculously Levi made it too.

Jean and Connie found him half dead, on the foot of Fort Salta. He was lapsing in and out of consciousness. Devoid of the strength to even stand up.

Tents were made into makeshift hospitals, food was meager. And his first few months were spent on a wooden cot,bed ridden with the stinging pain of his knee and his yearning for Mae.

He yearned to see her when he was trapped with Zeke for a month, he yearned to see her when he woke up with searing pain and bandages all over his face. And now the war was over, but he couldn’t get back to her.

The Rumbling destroyed everything humanity had ever strived for. Rail tracks, roads, ports, farms… everything was abolished as an aftermath.

It was impossible to get to the other side of the world.

Gradually Levi recovered, it took him almost a year. But his strength never returned. The tiniest task would turn him breathless, and the sight in his right eye was gone for good.

The doctors diagnosed him a plethora of health problems. And he was never allowed to look weak, but now he was in a wheelchair, needing help to pick things up from the floor. Life dealt him one blow after another.

Armin, Jean and Connie became busy, making peace with the remaining nations. Mikasa never returned. And Levi found himself, all alone. With a chaotic mind, and too much time on his hands.

Soon the Allied Nations rescued all the survivors from the Titan Waste Lands. Marley was no more, so most refugees ended up taking asylum in Hizuru.

And by the courtesy of Kiyomi Azumabito, Levi was gifted an apartment in the center of the city hall, and citizenship. A tiny apartment in between a lush square, in the city center.

It was tiny, but homely enough. And he would love sitting on the balcony and watching the outside world.

Life got more comfortable and Levi got to see the sights his comrades died for.

But there were still days where he barely had enough strength to pick his remaining fingers. Those days were the worst. And he felt like the walls of his apartment would swallow him up.

The purpose of his life was over. Hange was gone. Erwin was gone. Life came crashing down.

And sometimes, under the flicker of a candlelight, at his tiny desk, he would close his eyes, and imagine that he’s back in Mae’s old house. Learning the alphabet, listening to the soft scratches of her pen as she corrected his writings. It seemed like lifetimes had passed since then.

Mae was always with him, through all his hurdles he faced on the surface. And now he had to face an awfully big one, without her.

So he decided he’ll start to learn writing again. With two fingers of his right hand gone, he had to re-learn how to hold a pen again. He told Onyaknapon to get him books, so he could trace over letters, trying to perfect every curve. Just the way Mae had taught him.

It gave him a sense of purpose, and it also made him feel close to her in some way.

It took three years for the Yeagerists to finally agree to a cordial discussion with the Alliance. Historia sent letters to everyone. And this morning the Alliance left, back to their hometown.

Armin did extend an invitation to him too. But Levi didn’t want to be associated with the world anymore. He didn’t have the strength for it nor the will. His job was done.

“Captain,” A voice pulls him out of his thoughts. Behind him is a sliding door that leads to his room. And on the bed sits Onyakapon.

He points at the three thick journals that take up most of his space in his briefcase.“Are you sure you want to take these back?”

And Levi contemplates. Paper doesn’t spoil, and he should rather carry some spare clothes to keep himself clean.

“Leave the journals there.” His voice comes out gruff, and then it turns wispy. Everything he’s ever felt in these years without her and his limbs, is penned in these flimsy sheets of paper.

“It’s letters I have written to her.” There is no need to clarify. There’s no need to carry his journals all the way back either. But he does it either way. The war has changed him. And Levi realises he doesn’t have to torture himself anymore.

“I’m surprised you never got her to meet us.” Onyakapon smirks. He could have never guessed the captain had a lover.

And a faint smile appears on Levi’s lips as the curve of her smile plays on his mind. He wonders if she found the pearl ring and his letter. He never found the courage to directly hand it to her.

It’s been three years. Three long painful years. Perhaps, she’s forgotten all about him.

“Tch, as if I’ll let you filths near her.” He brushes his feelings off. Masking his thoughts with harsher words. Some things truly never change.

A flight passes over his head, he’ll probably sit in the next one.

“I hope everything is safe out there, hope there’s no hostility.” Onyakapon mumbles as he closes the briefcase.

And Levi gets off from his wheelchair, limping towards his bedpost. “No harm from a guy in a wheelchair.” He tries to joke, but there’s a prick in his heart.

He can’t pick things from the shelf. Some Days he also needed help to get to the toilet. And even though he’s returning back to Mae, there’s nothing he can do for her now.

And while happiness was never a part of his destiny. He hopes she’s happy. At least one of them must be.

“Well if things are bad, you can always come back here captain.” Onyakapon’s voice cuts through the constant torture of his thoughts.

The words bring him enough solace to take him through the night. A rare smile tugs on his lips. “Thanks Onyakapon.”

It’s going to be a long trip.

_________________________

It’s 10 am, and it’s sweltering hot in Mitras. Sweat clings to Levi’s skin, and he wipes it off with the back of his hand.

His briefcase sits on his lap. And he pushes his wheelchair through the dirt road,

Vast meadows stretch in front of him. The air is fresh, and a plethora of apple trees border the sides of the road. Its shade is very welcome in the sun.

Farmhouses are scattered at a distance, crops grow in structured rows. And Levi taps his heel, as he moves past them mindlessly. His thoughts are only set on one.

Historia told him Mae’s house was at the end of the apple plantation. Luckily the terrain is flat, and he’s able to maneuver his wheelchair with ease.

Nonetheless, it’s been a tiring ride.

The royal guards did offer to escort him to Mae’s house, but he declined the offer. The moment approaching was too personal to share with a bunch of strangers.

Soon, what he’s searching for comes to vision, and eagerly he moves forward.

100 meters away from him, down the mud path, is a humble home. Its stone walls are smooth, worn out by time. And the roof is thatched with wood and straws.

There’s a small garden at the front, with saplings that are beginning to sprout. And a few meters away from it all is a park. The sight of which bubbles a bittersweet feeling in Levi's chest.

“This is it.” He exhales, cherishing the cold air on his lips. It’s a breath that he’s been holding in for too long. A yearning that has been living in his heart for years now.

His mind jogs back to a small trip they took 5 years back, on Mae’s birthday. She had booked a small cabin nestled in the middle of farmland.

He still remembers the smile on her face, and the way her eyes crinkled in the sunlight.

Her hair flowed in the wind, and he thoughtlessly followed it. Too enamored by the happiness she radiated.

The birds sang, and the lillies seemed to beam.

Stories were told by the fireplace, and they would stargaze from the flower field. Cuddling under the sheets of the stiff bed, and eating lunch under a tree's shade.

She laughed, then he smiled. And for a fleeting moment, Levi had escaped from all his responsibilities.

He realized he could spend his entire life this way, under the shadow of the sun, and the warmth of their love. He couldn’t care less about saving the world, or his tea shop even…

He just wanted to be here with her.

Forever.

But time stopped for no one. And Levi’s prayers had a habit of going unheard.

And now, 5 years later, life has brought him here again. In a secluded countryside so full of beauty and peace, and so unlike him.

This is the kind of life Mae had always wanted to live. Away from the bustle of the city, where she could spend countless hours looking at the stars.

The door to her house softly clicks. And Levi leans forward, with his breath caught in his throat.

He has felt her caress in the warmth of the sunlight. He’s heard the faint echo of her laughter in the rustling of the leaves. Every breath, every movement, was just in the hopes that he’d get to see her again.

Seasons passed by like shadows, and now finally he’s finally here, moments away from her. The journey has been staggeringly hard.

Time passes at a lumbering pace, and Levi feels like he can almost hear the creaking of the door, as it gets swinged open.

Out steps a man with a basket in his hand. He’s well built and tall, and donned in a casual attire.

And Levi’s heart drops to the floor as a sickening feeling of jealousy takes over. All of a sudden the blood is thunderous in his ears.

He feels like he can’t breathe And his heart burns at the thought that her gentle smile turns to a man who isn’t him.

A moment later, a toddler comes out, chasing behind the man.

And Levi clutches the sides of his wheelchair so tight, that his knuckles turn white.

Fuck

He feels like he’ll vomit.

Like salt to his wounds, the man picks up the child. And she smiles so bright, he can see her sweet giggle, even though it's barely audible in the distance.

The man kisses the toddler’s cheeks, and takes her to the park. And Levi watches the scene with a sting in his eye.

He was her lover once but now he's a mere bystander. A powerless man who can do nothing but just watch. The realization is like a punch to his gut, and a bittersweet memory comes to Levi’s mind.

On their last night in the cabin, he told Mae he didn’t have the time to get her a birthday present. And then she shed a silent tear, telling him how she felt like she’s carrying the entire relationship.

It wasn’t too far from the truth. He had too much on his mind as a soldier. And life was not easy when the weight of humanity rested on your shoulder. Some days he didn’t even have the time to think of her.

And Levi knew he was being selfish by keeping her chained to him, but his heart didn’t know a way of living without her.

He asked what he could do to make it up to her, and she asked him to run away to a peaceful place.

All she had ever wanted was to stay next to him.

The decision was clear in his head then, but now he wonders if he should have just eloped with her… It's not like all the wars he’s fought have turned this world into an ideal place.

The impermanence of life… It’s something that he still can’t comprehend.

What is born shall die, what has started shall end. People come and go out at their own pace. The good moments turn stale, and eventually everyone ends up alone, with only memories to comfort them. Time is truly a fickle piece of shit.

The man places the toddler on the swing, before he heads the other way. And Levi gets consumed by his thoughts.

He had people who he once held close too. Erwin, Hange, Isabel, Farlan. But they left.

He wasn’t prepared for their deaths, but somehow he made his peace with it.

But he's not ready to let Mae go yet.

Not when her name is etched in the depths of his heart. Not when her thoughts have troubled him day and night. His heart yearns for her so deep, it doesn’t know another way of living.

It was supposed to be his kid, she was supposed to be his wife. He wanted to start his tea shop too. Life just had some other plans after all.

There were days when he didn’t have the strength to get out of his makeshift bed, there were days where his injuries hurt so much, he thought he’d prefer death over the pain of living like this. But he pushed and pushed.

Because at the end of this tunnel, he saw her.

The sweet end of his tiresome journey, The reward for his unyielding perseverance. His home after years of loneliness.

But it’s been three years now. And she’s not his anymore.

A part of him wants to throttle this man, for laying his hands on her. And a part of him wants to hate on her too. But it isn’t her fault as well.

His heart has been placed in the palm of her hand for far too long. And if she decides to break it, then he’ll just have to disseminate.

He guesses he’ll just have to live with the weight of being all alone.

The silence consumes,

And Levi taps his heel in frustration.

Time passes by painfully slowly. And one minute turns into fifteen.

The man and toddler are long gone now, but Levi still continues to bleed on the edge of his seat. He continues to sweat in the heat. Too nervous to move forward, yet too regretful to turn away.

Old habits die hard, he guesses.

The strength to move forward wanes from his body and every breath he takes only shatters his composure into pieces. He never thought he’d have to taste defeat, after winning over the entire world.

There’s some shuffling in the woods, and he swivels around aghast. His reflexes are not as sharp as he used to be. And he’s too exhausted to put on the act of a stone cold person.

He tries honing on the sound of movement but what use would that even be?

Back in the day he had the strength to beat any person to a pulp. But now with his crippled leg, he’s more of a burden, than a lover.

His hands trace back to his scars, a habit he has recently developed. And insecurity floods his mind.

He feels stupid pondering over something as trivial as his appearance. He wouldn’t even pay it a thought when he was in the Survey Corps. But he’s on the way to meet the love of his life and there’s these scars on his face that make him look fucking hideous.

The pit he's falling into is not unfamiliar. It’s something that bothers him everytime he looks into the mirror.

And in the haze of his insecurities. A sweet voice finds him.

“Dadd-a?”

He gasps, slowly turning towards the voice.

A little girl peeks at him from behind a tree trunk. He can’t see much of her, as she’s a few feet away, partly covered between the dense layers of trees. But he recognises her as the same child, who stepped out of Mae’s house a few moments ago.

The silence stretches, and she continues looking at him. With her eyes all wide and beaming. And Levi sighs, not knowing how to react.

He decides he doesn’t have it in him to see Mae or her happy family. He’ll just come back another day, when his heart hurts a little less.

And so he turns his wheelchair around, almost taking a U turn. But the same innocent voice stops him again.

“Dadd-a,” the girl squeals, and her tiny shoes squeak as she waddles towards him.

And Levi feels stumped, when she wraps her tiny body around his leg.

He’s always been quick to react to situations, but now he’s frozen.

He wonders why this little girl is hugging his leg, and how she’s not scared of how scary he looks with the huge scars on his face.

And as much bitterness his heart holds at the cruel turn of fate, her purity washes it away. Slowly, gently, deliberately. His features soften, and he decides the least he can do is drop her back home to safety.

He huffs, bending down to pick her up. And as he lifts her up by her armpits, his eyes are met with the same shade of silver.

Her skin is pale, papery white in complexion and her hair is the same shade of midnight black as his. Everything from the shape of her face to the shade of her lips comes from him. And there’s also a little cravat tucked inside her red polka dot dress.

“Daddaaa,” she chimes as if she recognizes him.

And a shuddered breath escapes his lips. Her smile… It comes from Mae.

She is his. Theirs. A part of him and a part of Mae.

And Levi has faced strong emotions before. He’s had his stomach churn with anxiety, and he’s had his heart overrun with grief and loss. He’s always anticipated all the things that could happen in his future, trudged every moment with caution. But no amount of preparedness could prepare him for the moment in front of him.

His hands tremble, as he puts her down on the floor. He’s a father now… he’s been a father for the past 3 years. It's too much to process. And his heart beats so fast in his chest, he’s afraid it will break out of his ribs.

“Lilly, Lilly,” A familiar voice cuts through the moment and his heart skips a beat.

“How many times have I told you not to-” Mae steps out of the trees, panting and worried. But the sight in front of her makes the words on her tongue scurry away.

Levi is a few meters away from her, in a wheelchair with 2 long scars running down his face, just the way the Queen had foreseen in the paths.

Everyday, she has stared at this road for countless hours, waiting for him to show up. It feels like she’s waited a lifetime to see him again.

The years of separation pass by her eyes.

Countless nights were spent crying into his shirt and every breath felt like a burden.

Everyone was ecstatic about the liberation of their island. And Mae was condemned to be alone, with her dwindling will to live.

Then she met Samuel and Claus, the soldiers who showed empathy to her, in a world that had become too hostile for anyone who supported the alliance.

They took her to the Queen, and the Queen recognised her instantly, as the doctor who helped when Trost was breached.

And as a Survey Corps Soldier who was once a part of the Levi’s squad, the Queen made it her mission to protect and provide for the ones who were close to the Alliance.

That’s when Mae moved into the peaceful countryside, with Jean and Connie’s mom.

Living with people who dealt with the same grief surely gave some solace, but life was still painful. And in the midst of her pain, like a beam of light into stark darkness, her baby came into this world.

And Mae never thought she’d get to see Levi’s eyes again, but they were right in front of her. Resting so peacefully against her chest.

That night she cried tears of gratitude. Life crashed into her as peacefully as it could.

“Mama mama, dadd-a has come back,” Her daughter squeals, with her tiny finger pointing towards Levi. Her grasp on her leg is still tight, and her eyes sparkle with joy.

And Mae tries to smile, but it gets dissolved in the trail of her tears.

This moment has haunted her every second, wrecked her entire being. And as she steps closer to the dream of Levi she’s had, every night since she was pregnant, the details of him come to life.

Her eyes follow the strong curve of his jaw, chiseled as if it has been carved by an artist. The ridge of his nose is sharp as always and his thin eyebrows are slightly disheveled.

She caresses him with her gaze, before her touch can even come close.

Two different Levi’s look back at her now. On the left, his face is marred, with two long scars running down his face. He is hurt and hidden away. And she can never see him through his cloudy iris.

But in his other eye, there are flecks of hope. The black of his pupil has expanded, and his iris shines blue in the sunrays. He wears his heart on his sleeve, Mae swears she has never seen him this vulnerable before.

And she might have lived without him for 3 years, but he has lived inside her every second, in her every thought. Her hand extends towards him out of deprivation.

Life hasn’t been the kindest to her.

But when the pads of her fingers reach the hollow of his cheek, her heart steadies itself. Whenever her eyes met his orbs , her ears met his voice, and her body met his touch. His familiarity always envelopes her. As if the hearth of a warm house, always welcoming and open.

Her hands reach to his lips, the shape of which she can trace on paper, even with her eyes shut close.

And Levi closes his eyes in alleviation.

There’s a search for words. Words for the longing, words for the separation.

And Mae shudders, as the pads of her fingers skim over his skin. They trace over his scars, the old and the new. From the top of his forehead, down to the edge of his chin. From the curve of his necks down the length of his arms.

Three years have passed by, but his features are still as strong.

Her caress reaches the end of his arm, and her fingers find the indents of his knuckles. Gingerly she takes his palm into hers,

And Levi is quick to wrap the 3 fingers that remain on his hand, around her.

Her touch feels both foreign and achingly familiar. He has craved this so much.

Mae’s eyes widen at the gesture, heavy with tears. And she kisses the spot where his 2 fingers once used to be. Levi is as real as ever, she can feel every divot of his skin against her lips.

The realization breaks her, and she drops to the floor. With her head on his lap, and her arms sprawled all over his thighs.

There’s disbelief, there’s elation. The feeling can never be put into words. Her shoulders wilt, heavy with the pain of separation, and she cries into his lap.

“I missed you… You weren’t there.” Her voice is muffled against his skin. “I thought I’d never see you again.” Her sobs pierce through the quiet of the farmland.

And he stares wide eyed, biting back his tears as well.

The pain she has carried with her all these years, is right in front of him. Laced into the heavy sobs that rake through her frame.

And Levi knows he should pick her up and kiss the shit of her, but he’s frozen. For his gaze is stuck on the familiar pearl ring that rests on her ring finger.

Words fail him, and his heart spasms in his chest. “D-did y-you ? He can only stutter, as his touch lingers over the pearl. ”A-after all this time?”

The question hangs in the air, but the answer is right in front of him. In the grief that occupies her heart, in the love that still brims in her eyes. And in the tiny girl who looks exactly like him.

It feels like all the sacrifices he’s made in life have finally come to fruition. His directionless quest has finally found its destination. His exhausted soul has found its shelter.

There’s such mercy in this moment, all he can do is shudder and let out an exhale. Maybe in exhaustion, maybe in fulfillment.

And Mae looks up at him, her eyes tinged red with tears. “I was only going to wait one more year, good that you came back in time.”

He puts his hand on her head, and her body trembles beneath his touch. All the grief she has held onto for so long, slows paroles in the form of her tears.

The scene is as heartbreaking, as it is rewarding.

“Ma-ma,” Lilly babbles, her voice as bright as sunlight cutting through storm clouds. And Levi looks at her as she tries to fit herself in the space between Mae’s hunched frame and his legs.

She settles into Mae’s lap, and Mae is forced to look into her eyes full of wonder.

“Mama…” she coos, and her tiny hands wipe the fat tears that roll down Mae’s face.” Dad-da’s back, don-t be sad.”

And Mae smiles at that, certainly she takes a lot from her father.

“You’re right, my love…let’s take Dada home shall we?” Her voice turns gentler, and she gets up with Lily in her arms.

“Levi?” Mae questions, gesturing towards his lap.

And Levi hesitates, a little too afraid that he’s too scary for the delicate human being.

“You’ll be a great father, don’t worry.”

The second time he looks at her, he knows he’s doomed. Her cheeks are round and full, as if there’s food stuffed inside them. And her eyes are just like his, but there’s a brightness in them that he never had.

She settles on his lap. And as he wraps his arms around her waist, she places her tiny palms on his scarred forearms. And Levi realizes there is nothing he wouldn’t do for this tiny person that he’s just met a few moments ago.

His heart feels full of love.

Mae starts pushing his wheelchair forward. And he closes his eyes, as he feels the wind against his face. It’s a moment that makes him feel grateful to be alive.

In a span of a few minutes, they’re already outside the veranda to her house. And Levi can smell the Lavender she has planted in the front garden.

“It’s not a big house but it’s enough. I stay here with Jean and Connie’s mom… Luckily for us though, they’ve gone to Trost for a bit.” Mae speaks, as she picks Lily from Levi’s lap, and places her inside the house.

“It’s a very sweet place though. All the farmers staying around often visit. It’s like a big family. Borris was here too, half an hour back. You might have seen him…he wanted to take some cookies for his son.”

“Ahh,’ Levi drawls, as if he didn’t spend fifteen minutes hating on that man. “I don’t think I saw him.”

She takes his briefcase in one hand, and hooks her other arm around his waist. Slowly helping him up the short flight of stairs. And he wants to do nothing, but melt in her embrace

“I can walk for a few minutes.” Her murmurs, almost embarrassed.

“You’re not walking anywhere until I check your leg myself.” She reprimands, but the softness in her eyes contradicts her strict tone.

As it turns out, Mae’s house is very much a home.

The interior is simple and modest. There’s a couch, two wooden chairs and a table in the front room. The wooden floor creaks as he steps in. And the walls are filled with the crayon marks.

“I’ll get your wheelchair inside.” Mae mumbles as she seats Levi on the couch.

And when Mae comes back in again, Lilly has already managed to climb on the couch. She’s standing on Levi’s lap with her hands on his cheeks. The faintest of smiles plays on Levi’s lips, and he holds her by the waist, making sure she doesn’t lose balance.

The sight makes Mae’s heart swell. Her entire world is now in front of her. Her heart feels so full and so heavy at the same time. And her eyes turn misty again.

“Oi oi, don’t start with all the crying again?” Levi mutters as he notices her standing by the door.

And Mae sniffs, overwhelmed. “I’ll make you some tea?”

“Yaa- Da-dda love teaaa.” Lilly squeals, before Levi can even respond to Mae.

And Mae smiles. Her family is finally complete... a few years back she would have never believed she’d get the privilege of experiencing this.

And just as she’s about to turn towards the kitchen, Levi stops her.

“Mae…” His voice drawls, and he pats the spot next to him. “Tea can wait.”

_________________________

The world outside fades into a quiet hum as the bustle of the morning stretches into the lull of the afternoon.

The sun has draped itself over the earth, like a soft blanket. And Levi rests on the bed. He’s just finished his lunch, and he allows himself to sink into the mattress.

Time seems to have been caught in the gentle sway of the trees, and Levi takes his sweet time looking at the things around him.

Lily's soft toys are stacked on top of the cupboard. And there's a wooden cabinet, filled with all of Mae's favorite books.

The curtains are made of colorful crocheted patchwork. And somehow Mae has managed to bring most of her things from her house in Trost here.

But it's not just that. Levi's stuff is here too.

There’s a cupboard next to Mae with his clothes folded and organized just the way he likes it. His favorite novels and teacups are kept in a separate cabinet. And right in front of the bed, there's a wall with paintings of the three of them together.

It feels like nothing has changed, like he was never away.

And everytime he closes his eyes, his heart begins to race. But for the first time, the adrenaline that flows through him isn’t nerve-racking. It feels exciting

The curtains above his head billow softly with the wind. A mild breeze enters the bedroom and Levi tilts his face to bask in its warmth.

His whole world now lies in his arms. Snoring peacefully, with her hand wrapped around his finger. She's so tiny, that all of her body fits on his torso.

And he lets out a sigh as he feels the subtle rise of her tiny chest against his own.

“Are you not able to sleep, because all of a sudden there’s a child on your chest, and you don’t know where she came from?” Mae steps into the room, quietly shutting the door behind her.

“I can clearly tell where she comes from.” Levi comments as he looks at his dear daughter. “Is this why you were crying so much the day I was leaving for Marley?”

“Mhmm… “ Mae nods, as she rests her back against the door. And Levi closes his eyes, listening to her voice.

“You had to save the world Levi, you had to give it your all. And you would have died hating yourself if you knew you had a child coming into the world, that you weren’t going to be there for… As much as I was dying to tell you about my pregnancy, I thought it was best to keep it from you…” It’s an uncomfortable topic that defines the rest of their future, Mae’s eyes fall to the ground.

If only she would look up, she would see Levi with the faintest of smiles, thinking of how he can actually see her instead of imagining her.

“I know a child was never something you wanted… So I understand how complicated this situation can be for you.” Mae goes on and Levi lays still with his eyes shut in contentment, hoping for time to slow down.

“What?” She gasps, finally looking up at him. “Say something? I’ll never know how you’re feeling if you don’t tell me about it.”

Finally his eyes flutter open, and he looks at her through the curtain of his lashes. A faint smile plays on his lips, and his cheeks turn pink as he stretches out his other hand towards her. “Come here.”

In an instant, her features soften, turning into one of relief. And she smiles as makes her way to him.

She rests her head on his shoulder.And he drinks in every detail. As if he’s a parched man, dying of thirst. His heart pounds in his chest, and then his gaze falls towards her lips.

It doesn’t take too long for their lips to fuse together. It’s a simple kiss, but it’s been years.

They part in bliss.

And Levi brings her hands to his lips, pressing a doting kiss on her skin. She’s his to keep, his to salvage.He can’t put his gratitude into words.

“Thank you.” His voice is heavy. “ I-I…” He wants to tell her how happy he is to be next to her. He wants to tell her how exhausting it was without her. And that he can’t believe she’s all his. He wants to tell her about all the letters he’s written to her. But his heart is lodged so deep in his throat that he can’t squeak out the words he desperately wants to say.

“Rest my love.” She keeps her thumb on his lip, tracing his bottom lip. “We have time.”

His eyes flutter shut at her words, and her hand reaches to the top of his head. She starts combing out the hair that falls on his forehead.

His old scars have faded, almost blending into his skin. And the hard muscles on his chest have been replaced with soft dimpled skin. The lines in the corner of her eyes run deep.

He’s softer now. Marked by age, but just as beautiful.

Her finger traces down his cheek, following the scar that runs across his face. The feeling of his skin dipping under her fingers almost feels overwhelming.

“Levi,” she calls, caressing the side of his face. And he responds by leaning into her touch.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” She murmurs.

The silence is blissful.

And Levi feels his heart flutter, just like it did when she held his hand for the first time.

“Mae…” his voice trails off and he gulps. “How did Lily recognise me?... It feels like she knows so much about me?”

And Mae tilts her head up. “She’s heard stories about you ever since she was in my womb, of course she knows a lot about you… We even got someone to draw a portrait of you last year, because she wanted to see you for her birthday.”

“She thinks you’re some kind of hero Levi.” Mae yawns, “A few months back, she was trying to eat food by herself, and she ended up making a mess… which was fine because she was just learning, but she started crying frantically, and I asked her what happened? She said Dada wouldn’t like her, because she made a mess and Dada hates messes.”

Mae’s eyes trail to the way her daughter sleeps, with her cheek squished against Levi’s chest, and her eyes are shut close in peace. “She thinks you’re some kind of hero.”

And Levi remains silent. Afraid the words will ruin the tender moment.

It might seem like he’s dozed off, but the pink crawling on his cheek tells otherwise.

And Mae looks at him with the softest of smiles. For the first time in a long while, her heart feels complete.

“Actually she is right… you are a hero.” She mumbles as she closes her eyes in peace.

And a single tear slips past his eye.

He’s finally home.

Thoughts? Thoughts? Thoughts?

I know its a very simple, cliche, happily ever after ending, but I really REALLY wanted Levi to have a family of his own, and experience a normal, happy life, which is why I made Mae pregnant lol.

To anyone who has made this far. I would love to know your thoughts on the entire story. Things you liked, didn't like. Your feedback is crucial.

I'm going to start editing this fic from now on, and whatever you say will be considered. So I would love to know your thoughts on what could get better and be improved.

Something else, I'm very excited about is designing and illustrating a book cover (since I am a graphic designer lol) and get a few hardcopies printed for myself!! I'm assuming I'll be done with it by DEC 25th, so right now I do plan to post an Epilogue/ bonus chapter and share the book cover designs on Dec 25th. (I don;t know if anyone is interested in this, but I'm just doing it for myself hehe)

I would like to thank the many people who have been a constant support while writing this. I don't think I can tag everyone since they are on different platforms, so I'll just mention their names here. @Alexandra218943 , Cupidcup, @musumusuhasi and Abha , I wouldn't have completed this without you, so thank you <3

And to all the people who have commented, and interacted with the story at any point. I want to let you know that I've had a shit month at work, my self esteem has been at an all time low , and the only thing that's made me feel capable of something are your comments, and I keep going back to them! So thank you for that, I am immensely grateful!

[hyperfixatedonthisnow]

Nightmare’s solace

*Not my GIF.

Nikolai Lantsov still has me in a chokehold so i wrote another thing. This one features one of my favourite fic tropes and also has a smidgen of plot this time so its a bit longer. Based more on show Nikolai who I feel is a little bit softer around the edges than his book counterpart.

Summary: You find yourself spending the night with your secrect crush, the King of Ravka and as luck would have it, there’s only one bed *gasp* ;) He comforts you after a nightmare and one thing leads to another.

Word count: 4.5K ish

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Mild angst/comfort, mention of nightmares, smut, fem!reader, P in V sex, protected sex (because resonsible adults), maybe slightly OOC Nikolai but that’s just because he’s too stupid to realise reader wants him as much as he wants her :D

All mistakes are my own.

You shuffled into what was presumably the world’s smallest room, silently cursing the innkeeper. Most of the limited space was taken up by the bed, which itself was small. There was a dresser squeezed into the corner and a short, uncomfortable looking couch pushed against one wall. “Perfect,” you huffed sarcastically, dropping your bag onto the bed. You did a quick sweep of the room and then the tiny adjoining bathing room. When you turned back, Nikolai was standing near the side of the bed. The King was uncharacteristically silent, a frown etched into his features. Tamar followed closely behind him and she let out a low whistle as she took in the room. There wasn’t even enough floor space for the four of you to be in there at the same time, so Nadia waited just outside the door. “Cosy,” she joked, waggling her eyebrows at you from the doorway and you snorted a laugh. Nikolai’s frown deepened. “You cannot seriously be expecting all four of us to spend the night in this sardine box?” he muttered incredulously. “Of course not,” Tamar answered cheerfully as she moved past him to check the window locks. If she had noticed the King’s unusually sullen mood, she didn’t comment on it. “Nadia and I will be in our own room across the hall.” “Oh. Right. Of course. Just the two of us then,” Nikolai said, sounding vaguely strangled. You tried not to be offended. “No need for us all to be together, no one knows us here. Besides, you can handle yourself, so protecting you is a one woman job really,” she explained with a grin. Nikolai nodded but his expression was still grim. Satisfied that everything was secure, Tamar pulled the drapes shut and turned to you. “We good?” She questioned. You shrugged, “I guess so.” Nikolai opened his mouth as if to protest, but promptly snapped it shut again when he saw you looking at him. He folded his arms over his chest and turned his attention to the bed instead, glaring at it as if it had personally insulted him. “Okay then, we’ll see you both in the morning,” Tamar said as she moved to leave.

“Sleep tight,” Nadia added in a sing song voice, and Tamar gave you a wink on her way out. You flipped them both off behind Nikolai’s back. They knew you had a thing for him and they weren’t exactly subtle about it, you wouldn’t have been surprised if they had chosen this room on purpose — especially since Tamar was the one who had volunteered you for this mission in the first place. You crossed to the door, securing the lock and sliding the security bolt into place, then perched yourself on the edge of the bed. Nikolai was agitated, pacing back and forth in the limited space. The lack of confidence was so unlike him, you wondered if he was afraid.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be safe here,” you tried to reassure him, “I know what I’m doing, and Tamar is just across the hall.” “I’m not worried,” he huffed, still pacing unhappily. “Uh huh.” You only just managed to hold back an eye roll, “Then what’s your problem?” He stopped, his eyes flicking to yours momentarily and away again as he heaved a put-upon sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the bed, and you did roll your eyes then. “Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, “I know it’s not ideal, but I’m sure we can manage to share for one night.” He stared at you as if you’d said something utterly ridiculous — like you’d suggested he move to Novyi zem and take up a career as a circus clown. “Absolutely not.” “We’re both adults here your highness,” you reasoned, but his expression only darkened. “Oh come on, a little cuddling never hurt anyone. I’ll even let you be the little spoon if you want,” you teased, trying to lighten his mood. “I — we — I mean— I don’t —“ he spluttered, his face flushing red. You couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered he was. You had never known the silver-tongued King to be at a loss for words. He fixed you with a disapproving glare as he finally managed to gather himself. “That would hardly be appropriate,” he said haughtily. You bristled at the condescension in his tone and his holier-than-thou attitude. You were only here in the first place because he had seen fit to plan a secret visit Shu Han. Technically, you were a Grisha teacher, not a royal guard, and it wasn’t strictly part of your job description to serve as his protective detail, but you owed Tamar a favour and the King had wanted to take a limited group who would not draw attention. Your part-Shu heritage made it easy for you to blend in and you were powerful enough, and had enough combat experience, to be able to defend yourself as well as him should the need arise. “Suit yourself,” you shrugged, grabbing a pillow from the bed and tossing it at him with a little more force than necessary. “If you don’t want to share, you can take the couch.” “Fine,” he muttered, catching the pillow with both hands before it could smack him in the face. He set it down on the couch and grabbed his bag, stalking off into the bathing room. You heard the water running as you rooted around in the dresser to find a spare blanket. You draped it over the back of the couch and then started getting ready for bed in an effort to distract yourself from thoughts of Nikolai Lantsov, King of Ravka — naked and wet, and just a few feet away. You loosened your hair from its tight braid, combing it through with your fingers, but when you opened your bag, you realized that you had somehow forgotten to pack nightclothes. Fuck. Cursing under your breath, you deliberated briefly but ultimately decided there was no way you were sleeping in your kefta or your bra. You stripped down to just a thin undershirt and panties, and climbed into bed, snuffing the nearest candle to dim the light and pulling the covers up to your waist, just as Nikolai emerged from the bathroom. He was barefoot, dressed for bed in a faded Ketterdam University shirt and grey sleep pants. His hair was damp and free of product, falling naturally onto his forehead instead of his usual swooped style. Seeing him so undone was odd, it felt intimate, and you couldn’t help but stare. Interestingly, Nikolai seemed to have the same problem. His eyes raked over your form and he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, his gaze lingering on the swell of your breasts far longer than could be considered appropriate. The heat of his gaze was like flames across your skin. He took a step towards you, but then suddenly he seemed to come back to his senses. He swiftly averted his eyes and turned away, heading for the couch instead. He bent over to place his bag on the floor and your eyes were drawn to his ass. You struggled to tear your gaze away from the smooth, tanned skin of his lower back, now on display where his shirt rode up. He met your eyes as he straightened and the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement when you blushed, quickly looking away. He cleared his throat as if to speak, but you beat him to it. “It’s late,” you said curtly, embarrassed, in light of his comment about inappropriate behavior, to be caught so obviously checking him out — even if he had been doing the same. “We should get some sleep.” He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised by your tone but he inclined his head in silent agreement. Laying down on the couch, he adjusted his pillow and pulled the blanket over himself. He must have been uncomfortable. The couch was so comically small that he had to curl himself up to fit, but he was stubborn and since he’d been so vehemently against sharing the bed before, you didn’t bother to suggest it again. He reached over to snub out the candlelight. “Wait,” you mumbled, a thought suddenly occurring to you. “I uhh.. I guess I should probably warn you.” You rubbed the back of your neck self-consciously. Nikolai stared at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue and you felt your face heating up again. You couldn’t not tell him if you were going to be spending the night in the same room though, so you swallowed down the feeling of humiliation and ploughed ahead. “I have... nightmares, sometimes. It’s not really a big deal, but I can get pretty upset and I don’t want you to freak out if it happens.” A look of concern flitted across his face but he didn’t say anything and you were grateful for it, you didn’t want his pity. “Bad memories,” you shrugged, “from the war, you know?” you finished quietly, lifting your eyes briefly to meet his. The war that had killed your family, destroyed your home. The war that had seen the Darkling murder your friends. The war that had forced you to see and do things so terrible that even now you could not speak of them. Nikolai did know. He had been a soldier too, after all. He understood why the things you’d been through might haunt you, and on a personal level, he knew what it was like to be tortured by memories of the things you had done, of the people you couldn’t save. He nodded his head sympathetically. “Ok, well, goodnight then,” you mumbled awkwardly as you settled yourself down, curling up on your side. “Goodnight,” Nikolai replied softly. You tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position or quiet your mind, The King’s close proximity and the fact that you had shared your secret with him combining to make it almost impossible for you to fall asleep. You lay awake in the dark, listening to the sound of his deep, even breaths until you eventually managed to drop off. Sometime in the middle of the night, you sprang bolt upright in bed, a choked sob tearing its way from your throat. Your heart pounded, the terror of the nightmare fresh in your mind. Nikolai appeared beside you almost instantly, his hand rubbing gentle circles over your back.

 “Shhhh..” he soothed, his voice low and rough from sleep, “It’s okay, it was just a dream.” You reached out blindly in the near darkness until your hands found his solid form, clutching at him desperately as your tears began to fall. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest without hesitation, tucking your head under his chin. He was sleep-warm and he smelled faintly of cologne. You turned into him, burying your face in the soft cotton of his t-shirt and allowing him to envelope you as you cried. You trembled, struggling to get yourself under control and he squeezed you tighter still.

 “It’s over now,” he whispered. “You’re safe with me.” Nikolai held you until your sobbing had subsided and your breathing started to even out, then he pulled away, moving to get off the bed. You grabbed his arm to stop him. “Stay,” you pleaded, fear bleeding into your tone, “Please.” He turned back immediately, pulling you into his arms again without argument. He stroked your hair lightly as he held you and he didn’t push you to talk. His quiet strength was comforting. Eventually, you calmed enough to realize how pathetic you must seem, clinging to him like a child. You let go, fisting your hands in the sheets at your lap and steadfastly avoiding his eyes. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, mortified. “Don’t do that,” he said sternly, putting one finger under your chin to tilt your head up. “You have nothing to apologise for.” He gave you a reassuring smile as your gaze flicked up to meet his in the dim light. His brow was furrowed with concern, but his eyes held no judgement, only empathy. His hair was askew from sleeping and his smile was crooked, giving his handsome face a boyish quality. His t-shirt was tight across his broad chest and biceps. The sight of him made your breath hitch, he had never looked so appealing as he did right then. He reached out to tuck a stray lock of your hair back behind your ear. It was a simple gesture, but the unexpected gentleness of his touch and the kindness in his eyes made you well up again. “What can I do?” Nikolai asked helplessly, as your tears spilled over once more. “Make love to me,” you murmured, slipping your hand under his shirt and running your fingers lightly along the strip of skin just above his waistband. His muscles twitched under your fingertips. “Help me forget.” It wasn’t fair of you to ask it of him, but in the moment you didn’t care. You needed something to chase the demons from your mind and he was a good man. Honest and kind. You knew that you could trust him not to hurt you. There was a wet patch over his heart where your tears had soaked through his shirt and you covered it with your hand as you leaned in towards him, pressing your lips to his. He froze for a fraction of a second, but then he was kissing you back, opening his mouth to you when you licked along his lower lip. He cupped your jaw with one hand, his touch feather light. He allowed you to take full control, and you did, sliding your free hand into the short hair at the nape of his neck as you tangled your tongue with his, using your grip to tilt his head and deepen the kiss. You were both breathing heavily when you parted and you could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat under your palm. He was silent for what felt like an eternity, his inner conflict playing out across his face.

 “I can’t,” he said finally, but he didn’t move away. His heart was still racing and he swallowed thickly, his eyes drawn back to your mouth. He wanted you too. “You can,” you insisted. Lowering your head, you kissed and licked your way from the exposed skin near the collar of his shirt, up his neck to nip at his pulse point. He sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed and his fingers lacing through your hair almost against his will. Sensing weakness, you moved to straddle him. He let out a surprised grunt as you settled yourself firmly in his lap, his hands instinctively dropping to your waist. You nuzzled along his jawline to nibble on his earlobe, grinding your hips against him and he groaned, turning his head to find your mouth with his. He kissed you hungrily, his grip tightening on your waist as he rocked up into you. You could feel his body responding through the layers of fabric between you and when you reached for the hem of his shirt, he let you pull it up and off over his head. You claimed his mouth again as you ran your hand down his bare chest and abdomen to palm his growing erection through his pants. You swallowed the sound he made as his hips canted up into your touch, but then suddenly he was pulling back and carefully pushing you away. This time it was him who mumbled an apology. “I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly. “For what?” you frowned, confused. “I shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t be taking advantage.” “Pretty sure I’m the one trying to take advantage of you here,” you chuckled wryly. “You’re not thinking clearly,” he sighed, running his fingers through his sleep mussed hair as he turned away, “You’re upset, and vulnerable right now.” Your stomach churned with embarrassment at the look of distress on his face. Obviously you had read things wrong and this was his attempt at letting you down gently. He probably wasn’t even attracted to you and even if he was, hadn’t he tried to say no? Yet here you were, practically forcing yourself on him. He was a King and you were a nobody, what right did you have to demand this of him? “I’m sorry,” you mumbled guiltily. You felt your eyes fill with a fresh wave of tears and you bit your lip, trying - and failing - to stop them from falling. “I get it, you’re not interest—“ “It’s not that.” Nikolai frowned, cutting you off mid sentence. You shook your head. “It’s okay, I understand.” “No. I want to,” he insisted, “Believe me, I do.” He reached up to cup your face in his hands, swiping the wetness from your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs in a display of tenderness you hadn’t been expecting. “I just — I don’t want to be a regret,” he admitted softly. “Never,” you whispered fiercely, meeting his eyes. “This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about this,” you confessed shyly, “I want this, Nikolai, I want you,” you assured him. He searched your face for a moment, his hand still caressing your cheek. Then he leaned forward tentatively, closing the gap between you. His lips were soft, his kisses slower than before as his tongue explored your mouth, hesitant at first but gradually growing bolder. You wondered absently if it was the use of his first name that had persuaded him. You raked your nails through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp and he growled low in his throat. His hands left your face to trail down your sides, rucking up your sleep shirt to find bare skin. You broke away from him momentarily to remove it, leaving you in just your panties before him and he muttered a curse under his breath as he looked you over, his eyes darkening with desire. Reaching out to pull you back towards him, he slanted his mouth over yours once again. You moved to lay back against the pillows, pulling him down with you and he followed without resistance, propping himself up on his elbows to keep most of his weight off you. You let your hands roam his back and shoulders, touching everywhere you could reach, as his lips and tongue worshipped every inch of the skin now on show for him. His ministrations were unhurried and gentle, as though you were something to be savored, something precious. The thought made you feel emotional again and you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on the sensations instead. He kissed his way open mouthed down the expanse of your throat and over your collarbones. When he reached your breasts, he swirled his tongue over the hardened nub of first one nipple and then the other, before he continued his downward path, licking and kissing slowly over your rib cage and across your stomach until you were whimpering and writhing beneath him, your hands tangling in his hair. He nosed at your center through the damp lace of your panties and you gasped, your hips lifting off the bed. He turned his head, suckling at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh — hard enough to have your hands tightening in his hair and a moan escaping your lips, but not quite hard enough to leave a lasting mark. He paused for a moment to draw a ragged breath and you felt his lips quirk up into a smile against your skin as you tugged on his hair impatiently. He moved back, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and you lifted your hips to help him as he pulled them down and off, tossing them to the floor. He slid his hands up your legs, his thumbs rubbing in teasing circles, slowly inching higher as he kissed a line from your knee back up towards the apex of your thighs. His lips bypassed the place you wanted him most, moving to leave soft, teasing kisses across your hips and lower belly instead, but his hand stayed it’s course and when it finally reached its destination, he gave a self-satisfied hum to find you slick and ready for him. He levered himself up so that he could slide his tongue into your mouth as he slipped two fingers inside you, rubbing perfect rough circles over your clit with his thumb at the same time and you moaned, your back arching in pleasure. Impatient to have him inside you, you reached down between you to free his erection, pushing his pants down past his hips and over the curve of his ass so that he could kick them off the rest of the way. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him. You wrapped your fingers around his length and began to stroke him, enjoying the heavy weight of him in your palm. You kept your rhythm steady, your grasp light but not teasing and he moaned, his hips bucking instinctively, chasing the delicious friction of your hand. “Protection?” he panted, and you nodded, releasing him reluctantly so that you could reach over the side of the bed for your bag. You rifled through it until you found what you were looking for and then you turned back to him with a triumphant smile. He kissed you soundly as he plucked the condom from your fingertips, tearing open the wrapper without preamble. He pulled away briefly to roll it on, giving himself a few firm strokes and then he was settling himself between your thighs as if he belonged there. He paused momentarily, searching your face for any sign of hesitation, but finding none. “Yes,” you whispered in answer to his unasked question, pulling him in for another kiss as he flexed his hips, filling you slowly in one smooth, perfect motion that had you gasping his name. He dropped his head to your shoulder, groaning as he withdrew almost entirely, before surging forward again into your tight, wet heat. You clutched at him desperately, one hand at the nape of his neck and the other on his ass, fingers digging in to his flesh, urging him closer still as he began to move, establishing a long, languid rhythm that had you both panting. You wrapped your legs around his hips and he hiked them higher, making you moan as the change in angle allowed him to sink impossibly deeper.

He lifted his head to look at your face as he quickened his pace, withdrawing again and plunging back into you, harder than before, your sweat slicked bodies sliding against each other as you moved to meet his thrusts. Already, you could feel the pressure building in you, could tell that your impending orgasm would be earth-shattering. He dropped his head again, his lips grazing your shoulder as you began to tighten around him. You felt like you were drowning in him, the current pulling you under and you surrendered to the feeling, knowing you weren’t alone in it. He breathed your name against your skin as his rhythm faltered, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he began to lose a grip on his control. “Come for me,” he pleaded, his voice rough with the strain of holding back, and you obliged, crying out as the world fractured around you, white sparks clouding your vision and your entire body buzzing with pleasure. Your hand tightened in his hair, tugging his head back up so that you could claim his lips with your own. He thrust once, twice more and then he stilled, following your over the edge into endless bliss, his mouth still on yours. Finally he broke away from your kiss, panting as he collapsed onto you, trembling with the aftershock of his orgasm. You lay tangled together, a mass of sweaty limbs, as you both caught your breath. After a long moment he shifted, pressing his lips against yours again, softly, as he pulled out. “Be right back,” he murmured. He got up from the bed and you turned onto your side to watch him go, admiring the view of his naked ass as he padded to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and relieve himself. You rolled on to your front, stretching like a cat, your muscles aching pleasantly. When he was done, you got up to take your own turn in the bathroom. Despite how sweet he had been with you during sex, you were still somewhat surprised when his trademark swagger did not reappear afterward. Instead, when you returned from the bathroom, you found him hovering awkwardly at the side of the bed, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d expect him to go back to the couch. He was still gloriously nude but with pants in hand, clearly debating wether or not he should get dressed. You smiled as you brushed past him, running a hand down his arm and placing a kiss on his shoulder as you gently tugged his pants from his grasp, dropping them to the floor. Then you pulled back the covers and got into bed, moving over to make room for him. Still he hesitated before climbing in, and then he lay rigid and silent beside you, propped up on the pillows, staring at the ceiling. For a split second, you worried that it was regret that had him so tense. Perhaps he thought this had been a mistake. Your heart clenched painfully. It wasn’t just any one night stand for you and it hurt to think he might not feel the same, but then his eyes met yours and you saw the vulnerability he was trying to hide. You suddenly realised that he was afraid too. His uncertainty was both unexpected and incredibly endearing. It was almost laughable, that Nikolai Lanstov could think that you might reject him. You shuffled closer, lifting his arm and placing it around your shoulders so that you could snuggle into his side. He didn’t protest, so you started making yourself comfortable, tucking one arm under yourself and slinging the other low across his belly. He shifted slightly, and you took the opportunity to rest your head on his chest, tangling your legs with his under the covers. When he didn’t relax under you though, you started to second guess yourself and you moved to pull away. His arm tightened around you immediately, keeping you in place. “Is this ok?” You asked softly, tilting your head up to look at him. He nodded, pressing a kiss into your hair as he trailed his fingertips lightly up and down your arm. “You’re sure? Because I’ve been told we shouldn’t cuddle,” you teased and he snorted a laugh, the tension finally leaving his body. “It would hardly be appropriate,” you mimicked in an almost perfect imitation of him, and he had the good grace to blush even as he rolled his eyes. “Yes, totally inappropriate,” he sighed in mock seriousness, but he was smiling as he dipped his head to kiss you. He was beautiful like this, soft and unguarded, now completely relaxed in your embrace. Your heart stuttered in your chest. If he wasn’t careful, he might be very much in danger of making you fall in love with him. “That’s a shame,” you lamented, pouting at him, “I guess that applies to sharing a bath too?” “Hmmm. I suppose I could make an exception,” he said, in the same haughty tone he’d used earlier. You laughed and he gave you a lopsided grin in response. “Later,” he said, pulling you in tighter against him as you settled down to sleep.