#i had another vision of this post in my mind for a while | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fushitoru · 2 months ago

Text

back to the kittty, cause she's kinda pretty!

pairings ⸺ (SEPERATE) bf!sukuna x reader x toji, masseuse!nanami x reader, bully!suguru x reader, childhood best friend!choso x reader, best friend!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ jjk men as overused p0rn tropes! (part 2) inspired by this awesome post by the cool and super talented @/osamucide! pls check it out and the rest of his work :3

warnings ⸺ SMUT (mdni), sub!satoru supermacy, porn no plot, vaginal sex, doggy, fem reader, "sloppy seconds," pre-established consent for all, reader accidently eats an aphrosidiac for choso's, bullying in suguru's, oral (m and frecieving), fingering, semi-public humiliation, lowk pathetic toji, art by 3aem, nOT EDITED

a/n choso's is my favorite yet again i love a pathetic man that rails me into next tuesday <3

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

KAMO CHOSO ⸺ MY HOT CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND ATE SOME WEIRD CHOCOLATE AND WANTS ME TO DICK HER DOWN!

Your best friend, Choso, was lounging on his couch, flipping through different movie options on Netflix while you were in the kitchen, bending and squinting through the different options. It’s a Friday night, and the both of you opted to stay in for movie night.

“Choso!” You complained, huffing while putting your hands on your hips to shout at him in the living room. “Why do you only have fuckin protein shakes and raw chicken in your fridge?”

All you get is a noncommittal shrug while he pauses on the preview for some shonen anime. “There should be some chocolate.”

Gasping in excitement, you go back to rummaging through his fridge like a raccoon and there you find it—-a pink chocolate box titled “tabs.” Smiling to yourself in excitement, you don’t hesitate before popping on of the bars in your mouth, appreciating the cherry flavor while grabbing another one. With your mouth full, you ask, “Do you want one? These are sooo good, where'd you buy them?”

“Nah, I’m good. Just come over here, you’ve been taking too long.” He sends you a glare and motions for you to sit next to him, to which you set the chocolate back in the fridge and pad your way over to him. “I think Sukuna bought these off the internet and that they were kinda bougie.”

You look at him, slightly alarmed. “Isn’t he going to kill you?”

He looks over at you—a little softly, you note—and ruffles your hair, to your dismay. “It’s okay, I’ll buy it again for him. Gonna blame your big back ass for it being gone.”

“Die.” You stick your tongue out, crossing your arms while settling into his side.

Choso noted that you were being a bit more cuddly than usual, touching him more as soon as you got onto the couch. He decides to ignore it. “Ok, we’re going with Spider-man, k?”

You nodded into his side—he could tell you were flushed by the way you had continued to grow warmer and warmer, with beads of sweat dotting your temple. He paid it no mind, choosing instead to click on the movie and watch it play.

You were heating up.

You tried to ignore it, because you hadn’t felt feverish before or done anything in particular to cause you to be sick (your coffee and ramen diet had been fixed after midterms season after Choso got on your ass about it). But about 25 minutes into the movie, you couldn’t bear it anymore, your vision blurring at the edges as you mumbled, “‘ts too hot. Gonna take off my shirt.”

Choso, who had been focused on the movie, tensed and looked at you, eyes slightly widened. “Wh—” Before he could even get a word out, you stood up—eyes slightly unfocused—arching your back while grabbing the bottom hem of your t-shirt and peeling it off, causing Choso to gulp as you uncovered the swell of your breasts in your red lace bra. You went back to borrowing yourself on his side, the softness of your boobs pressing against his arm.

Choso closed his eyes because there was nooo way he was popping a boner for his best friend. No way. As both of your eyes went back to the movie, Choso focused on reciting the Japanese National Anthem to distract himself from the soft breaths you were letting out near his ears—and the way they tickled them—as well as the rise and press of your chest against his arms as you heaved.

You, on the other hand, did not feel relieved. At all. There was a stickiness in between your thighs that made you think your period had started, but it had ended a week ago. You were probably just ovulating. Cuddling into Choso further, you put your legs on either side of his torso, burying your face into his neck and taking a deep sniff. At this point, you ignore the movie as you tried the soothe the heat that was going through you.

“What are you doing?” Choso was ram–rod straight and turned to peer down at you incredulously while reciting in his brain, until the tiny pebbles, grow into massive boulders.

You continued your whiffing—-he just smelled sooo good—and sobbed, “I don’t know, but it hurts.” At this point, the feeling between your thighs was unbearable. You started to subtly grind on the side of his torso, much to Choso’s surprise. “‘M sick, Cho, but I’ve been eating healthy! I promise!” you whined. “Except for the chocolate right now. It hurts!”

At that moment, he knew he fucked up.

These were the tabs chocolates Sukuna was buying for his girlfriend. The ones viral on social media for serving as aphrodisiacs.

“Fuck,” he groaned while you continued to rub yourself onto him, now fully moaning and sighing as you tried to chase relief. “Fuck! I fucked up.”

“Choso,” you whined loudly, prompting him to leave his state of anguish to look at you worriedly. “I feel so empty.”

Choso snapped.

Bent over, face buried in a pillow on the couch, Choso rams into your creamy, wet pussy, the squelching sounds echoing across the empty apartment. Punctuating his words with a thrust, “is-” plap! “what-” plap! “you-” plap! “wanted?”

“Yes!” you squeal, body bouncing as his rough snaps of his hips jostled you around, “You’re making me feel so good, Cho!”

“Do you know how much of a tease you’ve been?” he growled, balls hitting your ass as he pulled a hand back to spank you, red handprint imprinting itself on your cheeks. He groans at the sight of him leaving his mark on you. “Gonna take my cum, right?”

FUSHIGURO TOJI AND SUKUNA RYOMEN ⸺ I GET MY BEST FRIEND’S SLOPPY SECONDS! (a/n lol im not gonna lie this is just me ovulating and wanting to be creampied by two men)

Whenever Toji was at Sukuna’s place, it was like you, his girlfriend, pretended he wasn’t there. Because why were you always dressed in the tiniest of shorts and a tank top that could barely even hold your tits in and keep them covered? Sometimes, Toji thought it was Sukuna’s play—dangling you in front of him like a piece of meat, reminding him what he couldn’t have.

Sukuna and Toji did have a bit of a…competitive friendship—one of good nature, of course. Toji, nonchalant as he is, didn’t really care whether he lost or not in the little skirmishes they had, whether it be seeing who can lift the most at the gym or walk somewhere faster. But he’s definitely seen Sukuna eye his groin in a mental competition to see if he was bigger or not.

Safe to say, Sukuna relished in the win. In a sense, he was obsessed with the submission. Not that Toji could care. He didn’t care when he flaunted his girlfriend around, groping you in front of him just to make him feel jealous…right?

Because why was his dick hard, him all hot and bothered as he listens to your moans and the plap! plap! plap! and squelches of Sukuna’s dick drilling in you? You’re both in the room, and Toji’s in the living room, confused as to why the fuck Sukuna asked him to come over when you clearly had a dick appointment with him.

“Mmm, Sukuna you’re making me feel so good!” You whine, and Toji curses, closing his eyes and cursing whatever god was out there to make him subject to such torture. In his gray sweatpants, his bulge is undeniable as he hears Sukuna pleasure you.

Then, he hears Sukuna call out to him, jumping as the other man yells, “Yo, Toji. I know you’re out there, man. Come in!” He then laughs meanly, speeding up to silence whatever protests you were making. Toji curses once again and moves to open the door just for his eyes to widen at what he’s seeing.

There is an obscene amount of cum oozing from your hole, it looked battered and swollen from the abuse Sukuna has dealt to it. There are tears in your eyes, a pretty pout on your face as Sukuna continues to use you as your fucktoy. And Toji realizes that Sukuna is looking at him while his hips languidly gyrate into you.

“‘kuna–” you sob, embarrassed and cheeks heating up even further as you felt Toji’s eyes rove over your form, utterly decimated by Sukuna.

But you’re interrupted out of any potential protests you can make as Sukuna smacks your ass—Toji’s eyes not missing the jiggle—as he abruptly pulls out and motions Toji to come closer. “I’m gonna let him borrow you, okay baby? You see, Toji’s kind of pathetic here. Might as well give him sloppy seconds, right?”

With that, Toji is moaning as he slowly enters you, your pussy sweetly clamping on his dick as he can literally feel Sukuna’s cum every time he thrusts. The utterly debauched feeling of his still-hot come lubricating his every thrust makes his eyes roll back, lost in the feeling of your pussy as you whimper and squeal everytime he hits your g-spot.

“Yo,” and Toji’s attention is temporarily swayed to Sukuna, who’s watching the both of you with darkened eyes, manspread in a chair. “Come inside, okay? It’s my treat.”

NANAMI KENTO ⸺ DIRTY MASSEUSE GIVES HOT BABE A DEEP TISSUE MASSAGE! (WITH A HAPPY ENDING)

Working in corporate was hell.

Sitting in a chair all day slaving away at spreadsheets and emails was definitely not something your younger self imagined you doing, but alas, you were only but a slave to capitalism. Even your hip flexors could feel it—they were tight, and your upper back hurt a lot.

So, here you were, in the waiting room of this bougie massage salon that you decided to treat yourself to. After all, you’ve been a good girl with your savings, making sure not to spend loads on stress-virtual-shopping so you can blow lots of bucks into this 2 hour service. The lobby is neat and glamorous, as you wait while rubbing your back. You’re currently engrossed in watching a compilation of Moo Deng videos until a deep cough interrupts you. “Miss?”

You turn to face the rich, baritone voice that’s said your name, and then suddenly reeling back. In front of you was probably one of the most handsomest men you’ve ever seen, with blond hair and sharp cut facial lines. He’s rubbing his palms together, which seem laden with oil as he looks at you plaintively. “Shall we take it to the massage room?”

“Y–yes. We can do that,” you nervously affirmed, gathering your purse and belongings to tightly follow behind him.

When you arrive at the room, the stoic man motions for you to get changed. “Please put on a towel. We’re going to be doing a deep tissue massage, so the towel will serve as a protective measure.”

You blush at the thought of this man seeing your body covered in nothing but a towel, but follow his directions regardless, putting your belongings in a corner while you step out of the changing room and into the massage room once again. You try to preserve your modesty as best you can as you go to lie down on the table. The only things you hear from him are the clinks of bottles as he rummages through different oils, uncovering them. The smell hits you dead on, soothing your senses already with the essential oils.

And then, his rough, big hands are on your back, pressing into your shoulder blades. You jump, like a scared deer, and he lets out a deep chuckle. “My bad. I’ll be doing your back side first.”

“Okay,” you whisper in response, already closing your eyes in bliss with the way he’s roving his thumbs over the planes of your back, pressing in deep as he works out the kinks in your back.

In one particular spot in your lower back and hips—the one that’s been hurting like a bitch because of your endless time sitting in a chair—he presses his thumbs with the exact right pressure, and you moan.

You can’t help it—the chronic back pain has always been there, but he makes it disappear with a languid movement of his fingers over your back. But he pauses slightly as soon as the whimper comes out of your mouth. “Miss, are you alright?” Flushing, you are quick to affirm. “Yes, sorry.” With a lower voice, you say, “That was, um, that was just really relieving.”

He laughs melodically and continues his ministrations, going even lower, but pausing right before putting his hands on your ass. “May I pull the towel up? Direct contact will be helpful in this region for a deep tissue massage.”

“Y-yeah,” you say softly. “You can do that, you’re the professional.” He’s just doing this for massage reasons, right? With your consent, he slowly inches up your towel to uncover your bare ass to him, you clenching your thighs with the fact that he can see everything.

He then puts his hands on the fat of your ass, moving his hands in a circular motion that spreads your ass every time he moves in an outward rotation. Kento’s trying really hard to stay professional, but seeing your glistening wetness makes him groan inwardly. “Miss,” you perk up slightly as he refers to you, “I’ll continue with the deep tissue massage as requested, okay? There’s a spot that I believe really needs my attention.”

Innocently, you nod, and Kento can’t help but feel so aroused that you’re so naively believing him, letting him touch you as if it’s an appropriate part of his job. His hands inch closer and closer, and soon enough he’s fingering you while languidly licking you up.

“Does this feel good, miss?” Kento is out of breath as he nudges his nose deeper into your pussy while you’re squealing at the feeling of his fingers slamming into your g-spot, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he goes in, sucking at your clit just perfectly.

“It’s rude not to answer someone,” your masseuse gives you a slap, and quickly soothes it over.

“‘M sorry!” you squeal, bucking your hips as soon as you feel like you’re getting closer, “It feels soo good.” With that, he pauses his ministration to give you a gentle kiss on your pussy, and the plush of his lips is enough to set you squirting, riding his face as you drench him in your juices. Safe to say, you were feeling very de-stressed.

GOJO SATORU ⸺ BEST FRIEND CATCHES HIM MASTURBATING, JOINS IN ON THE FUN!

Satoru groans, squeezing his ball at the base to avoid cumming prematurely. What he was originally doing was trying to find some porn to empty his balls to, releasing stress and gaining dopamine from masturbating. But eventually—like he’s been doing a lot these days—his fingers direct him to your Instagram profile. You, his best friend.

Satoru does this in secret, waiting until he’s alone in his and Suguru’s apartment to go into his room, close the door, and sin by thinking of you in a way friends don’t of each other. So, he’s trying not to bust too early while he zooms in on your tits in the cute bikini picture you posted just last week, the ones he took of you. The pixels of your magnificent breasts zoom in, sweat and water glistening off of them as your bra hugs and makes them sit just right. He groans, throwing his head back as he feels his cockhead pulse again, deciding to end his edging to cum.

In his focus on stroking his dick—the squelching and whines echoing in his room—he doesn’t notice the sound of the door opening. Nor of the footsteps heading towards his door, because he moves his hand up and down, up and down, up and down until he’s so close to cumm—-

“Satoru! I got us some mochi!” You yell loudly, and Satoru screams in return, albeit for a different reason. As your head whips up to look at him, alarmed at his shout, you register that his cock and balls are out. And that, in his left hand, is a photo of you.

You blink, and Satoru blinks back, except with a red, throbbing length in his hand. Then, slowly, you ask, “Why is my picture open, Satoru?”

Satoru swallows, already hearing funeral bells and utters out, “I—I—that was a mistake. I meant to be on Pornhub. Haha! I mean,” he continues on rambling, “why would I be looking at your picture? Obviously, my hand slipped while I was jerking off I mean—” he cuts himself off, because in his yapping, he’s failed to notice how you’ve stalked over to his bed, now straddling him while spitting on his cock.

“Fuck,” he curses, as his pupils dilate watching the thicky, frothy mix of your spit ooze down from your pursed lips onto his dick. “W–what are you—” You motion for him to stand up, orienting yourself so that your throat was hanging off the bed and you were on your back on his mattress.

“Since you’re so desperate,” you give him a deadly sweet smile as he stands, dick above your face. You give his tip a little kiss, and he shivers. “You can fuck my throat.”

Satoru definitely takes you up on that offer.

He can’t even believe that he’s here, you deepthroating his dick so nice. “Thank you, thank you,” he whines, gyrating his hips sloppily into the tight, wet heat of your mouth as your lips suckle on him. “Needed this so, so much.” You’ve even uncovered your tits, them bouncing nicely as Satoru continuously lodges himself in your throat. “Please, please let me cum.”

You gently push against his hips, indicating you want him out of your mouth. Raspily, you wipe the trail of spit that’s left your mouth and laugh meanly and give him a deceptively sweet kiss on his balls. “You have to last at least 10 more minutes, okay?”

And Satoru can do nothing but obey you, driving himself to the hinge of climax but never over, whimpering as your mouth swallows him up.

GETO SUGURU ⸺ BIG DICKED BULLY FUCKS CUTE ANIME GIRL INTO SUBMISSION!

Your safe haven is your library. There, the man who’s been torturing you for most of your college career, Suguru Geto, doesn’t know where you hide, nor does he frequent the place. You’re focused in on your assignments right now, having fallen behind due to Suguru’s antics of bothering you and disturbing your peace to humiliate you across campus. It’s late at night, and there’s not a lot of people to disturb you. You thought.

You’re wrenched out of your state of focus as someone harshly pulls your chair back, grabbing your chin to meet your eyes with his. Your bully, Suguru.

You gasp in surprise as he roves his eyes over you and what you’re wearing. A short skirt, one he dare wouldn’t admit made you look cute, and a sweater. Silently, he sits down while you tremble, looking at him with shaky eyes that makes his cock swell in his pants.

He smirks. “You thought you could hide from me?” He then ticks his head towards your textbook. “Whatcha reading? Recite it to me.”

Even though you were confused as to why he would have you do that, you hurried to do as he said. Meanwhile, his siren eyes roved over your form, choosing to settle in between your thighs.

“Schroedinger’s theory had proved classical physicists wro—-“ You’re interrupted by your own gasp, because Suguru’s laid a hand that’s gently caressing your inner thigh.

“Go on,” he purrs, getting closer and closer to the heat of your pussy.

You swallow and go on. “…had proved classical physicists wrong, showing that unexplained phenomena in spectroscopy and atoms demonstrated discrete—-“

Meanwhile, he’s inched his hand inside of your panties, softly rubbing at your clit in a manner unbecoming of the mean Suguru you know. Before you know it, your orgasm was creeping up on you, and your legs were trembling while Suguru buried his face in your neck, giving you soft kisses.

“Cmon, you slut,” he whispered, the softness of his voice contrasting with the harshness of his words, “are you too stupid to read?”

You whimper as he delves a finger into your hole, collecting the ooze there and going back to your clit. “…atoms demonstrated discrete properties, referred to as quanta—-“ It’s with a nasty lick to the shell or your ear that you’re cumming, squealing loudly as you cream on his fingers, humiliated at the show you were forced to put on in the library.

Suguru pulls his fingers out and sucks on them languidly, looking you in the eye. “Now slut, you’re going to do that seated on my dick. Got it?”

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

a/n hiii pookies this was late sorry </3 but ANYWAYS im excited to write (and ride) cowboy geto and spiderman!gojo next! consider joining my kinktober taglist if you're interested <3 part 1 of this here btw

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :p

TAGLIST

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom

@r0ckst4rjk @callmeagardengnome @rottmntrulesall @blankwashed @sindulgent666

@honeynanamin @obsessgurlll @starrnai @herefor-tojis-tits

7K notes · View notes

ubeb0nes · 6 days ago

Text

Getting jealous (AGAIN) as Sevika's girlfriend...

you just can't catch a break, huh? your fault for falling in love with this absolute lady-killer

༇༇༇

a/n: ever since i remembered i have free will and can post all my sevika goblin thoughts i have been cooking entire posts up in like under an hour, somebody please help me LMAO

i had too many ideas for the jealous!reader, so here's another. i picture this as being my pit fighter!reader characterization, so do with that what you will :33

it isn't that you hate absolutely anybody looking at Sevika at all

like, you get it. and a part of you loves that everyone else can see just as clearly as you how absolutely captivating she is.

BUT IT GETS TO A POINT-

After the incident with the girl at the bar, Sevika does her best to make sure that you don't feel neglected in public. She slips, of course she does, but she does try like hell

It typically goes that anybody who approaches her, flat out doesn't acknowledge you. it's a by-product of how she's so non-PDA that it slips the mind of these thirsty women that she's even in a relationship

You, being a practical and results-driven individual, remedy this by being a little bolder in public every now and then

Nowadays, Sevika doesn't usually object. She understands why you're doing it now, and she's getting tired of the would-be homewreckers coming onto her too lol

You'll cup her cheek, give her a firm but quick kiss whenever you bring a drink over to her while she's in a game of cards. Come up beside her at the bar and rest your hand on her hip for a while (she fucking loves this one, she won't tell you though)

From then on, people start to get the message. If anybody's heartbroken over it, they become less inclined to showing it

So, you almost want to believe you're imagining things when you clock someone from across the bar who seems to keep giving you the stink eye

you're not dumb

you can see the way she's gesturing between you and Sevika to her friends, shaking her head in disgust. now that's a new one...

Sevika has her human arm over your shoulder while this is happening, the other holding onto her hand of cards. She looks over at you when you pluck the cigarillo out from her fingers and take a drag of your own in distress. She's deeply amused by this

"Okay, baby?" "Mhm. Peachy." You were not peachy. The hell did you do to deserve that look?

For a second Sevika thinks you're mad at her, frowning and angling her body towards you (she notices Ran trying to sneak a look at her cards as she does, and bucks playfully at them). Her eyes flick up to follow your line of vision, and then she understands

She chuckles under her breath.

"You could take her in a fight, princess."

oh, and don't you know it. You shake away the thought though, not wanting to escalate the situation in your head in the case that it's actually not at all what you think it is, and then you look stupid

You ask Sevika if she wants another whiskey and she declines, so you get up to just get yours. You're minding your business by the bar, trying to not grace that table with any more glances when that bites you in the ass as a shoulder checks yours

of course, it's the girl. I guess it wasn't in your head

You make eye contact with her when she looks over her shoulder at you and scoffs, shaking her head. You don't look away even as the bartender slides your drink into your hand

now, you have some options here. most of them include violence to some degree. you're contemplating them all as you're walking back to Sevika, eyes straight ahead

then you catch a few choice words from her table; something, something, "-can she fight..." you don't hear the rest, but does it really matter?

you stop in your tracks. you glance up at your girlfriend who didn't see what happened earlier but is watching you now, brow raised and mouthing what's wrong?

at this point, i don't think this even counts as jealousy, you're just defending your woman's honor

you give her a shake of your head that says don't worry (and now she's definitely worrying), and turn on your heel and make a beeline for the bitch's table

Sevika is about to get up to back you up- for whatever the situation may be- when she sees your posture as you stand over the girl from earlier.

Ran stops her though, grinning from ear to ear. "Let your girl have this, Sev. I wanna see her beat ass." Sevika scoffs, but tentatively sits back down. She trusts your judgement. Whatever your call is-

oh, you're smashing your glass over the girl's head. Ran gives a loud whoop

"You wanna take her from me? Go ahead, try," you'd said while Ran was talking Sevika down. The smile on your face was near-manic. "See what she does when you put your hands on me."

It's not like this woman was exactly tiny or helpless-looking; most in Zaun strived to be neither. But Sevika hadn't been lying when she said you could take her.

It was not a memo she'd received, though.

You couldn't recall what exactly she'd said, but you do know your mind reached an immediate state of singularity when she said she'd kill you before Sevika could do anything about it.

BET

"Goddammit-" Sevika barks out your name as she shoots up from her chair. Ran is doubled over with laughter

She's deceptively fast for her height, and thank fucking god for it. Her human arm wraps around your waist like a vise, pulling you back with ease

She would've been cutting up right with Ran in any other circumstance, given the way you were stancing on the now-dazed woman, fists clenched and shoulders shrugged up like an angry big cat

"Down, girl," she mutters to you. Her lips quirk up at the way you shift your jaw around, obviously still pissed off and ready to scrap

"I was defending your honor." "Mhm. What would I do without you, huh?"

Sevika's in front of you when the woman scrambles up out of her seat to retaliate. Sevika towers over the both of you, and you're nearly completely hidden behind her now as she glares at the woman

"You don't wanna fight her, much less me. Go ahead and clear off."

Maybe jealousy isn't as accurate of a term for you as territorial. You've got nothing to be jealous of, not with how fiercely devoted Sevika is at every turn

#arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika headcanon #ubebones writing #this was so unserious to write LMAO

1K notes · View notes

soaps-mohawk · 3 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 39: Life

Summary: Something begins to throb in your chest as you lay there. Something thrums deep within you, something you haven’t felt in weeks.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8,194 words

Warnings: Angst, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, illness, language, slightly graphic imagery, very slight violence, rumination, lots of feels, and yes finally some comfort

A/N: Yes, it has finally arrived. The time has come. We are now in the comfort. This very much is a good place to end things for the next month. If you haven't seen my post then I'll say it here, I will be putting the fic on a brief hiatus for the month of October. I have Kyletober planned and trying to do CRCB at the same time will be too much. So this will be the last chapter for a couple weeks while I focus on other things and just give my brain a little break from CRCB. It's been eight months of just pumping out long chapters every week, or almost every week, so I need a little break to focus on other things. I'll still be writing and posting things here (and Ao3 of course) but there won't be another CRCB chapter posted until November.

But anyway, I hope you enjoy this one and the comfort starting and I'm super excited for what's coming next month (can't believe it's almost October)

11/30/24: **This chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“I need you to be brave.” Christine says, staring up at him.

His heart thumps in his chest. How bad is it that not only did she summon him down here, but she’s asking him to be brave. He knows you’re sick, that you’ve fallen ill after your moment of anger earlier. She had informed them over dinner as she made some broth that you came down with a fever.

They had all been worried, sharing glances at the news. John looked like a dog that had been scolded. It was his fault, after all.

If anything happens to you, it is his fault.

Johnny swallows the lump in his throat, nodding slowly as he stares down at Christine. “I can be brave.”

Christine stares up at him for a long moment before nodding. She pushes the door open, leading him inside your room. The scent in the air is thick, tainted by the bitter scent of anxiety still lingering in the air, and the sour scent of illness. He misses the fresh scent of strawberries, he has missed it over the last few weeks. Your scent had taken on a bitter edge ever since the cameras were revealed to them. It’s only gotten stronger recently after the events that transpired.

All of their scents have been off lately.

It’s dark in the room aside from the bedside lamp. It casts a soft glow around the room, elongating the shadows in the corners. They loom threateningly, and his fingers twitch to turn on the overhead light.

You don’t like the overhead light. It’s too bright.

You always prefer softer light. Is it an omega thing, or is it just a you thing? He’s not quite sure.

How little they really understand you.

The lamp illuminates a pile of blankets on the bed, stacked one on top of each other to create a lump of soft fabric. You’re underneath that pile, he knows it. You’ve always liked blankets, always carried one with you in the barracks, eternally cold in the harsh world they existed in on base. This many blankets though? It was excessive even for you.

He approaches the bed slowly, scared at what he might find. Images of you laying in a puddle of blood, cold and stiff fills his mind. Images of a skeletal figure reduced to nothing but skin stretched over bones has his heart racing. What will he find on the other side of that pile obscuring you from his vision?

He swallows down his fear, reminding himself that he’s a soldier. He’s seen dead bodies before, he’s killed before. So why is he so scared now?

This isn’t war. It’s you.

He steps up to the side of the bed, looking down on you. You’re shivering, trembling under the blankets. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin dewy and clammy in your fever. You look more alive than the skeletal figure he had pictured in his mind, but you don’t look well.

You look near death.

“I’m worried about her.” Christine says, closing the door behind her. “She needs someone from her pack close. You’re making the most effort right now, and if anyone might get through to her, it’s you. She needs...someone.” Christine sighs. “Someone who can offer what I can’t.”

“She needs a member of her pack.” Johnny says, easily putting together what Christine was saying.

He knows what she’s asking. He’s scared. He’s not sure how you’ll react. The last people you want to see right now is your pack, including him. How will you react to having him so close?

“Exactly.” Christine says, stepping up right next to him.

Her fingers wrap around his wrist, and he lets her guide his hand to your cheek. It’s hot and clammy against his palm, a fire blazing under your skin. You let out a shuddering breath, the air fanning weakly against his wrist. Your head turns just slightly, pressing into his hand. It’s a good sign, despite the delirium you have to be stuck in. What are you imagining is happening right now? What is your brain telling you?

“Touch her, talk to her.” Christine says, releasing his wrist. He keeps his hand there, pressed against your cheek. “We need to try and get her back before this gets worse.”

Before they lose you.

She won’t say it out loud.

She doesn’t need to.

Johnny nods, turning his head to look at Christine over his shoulder. She looks exhausted, and not just because of the late hour. She’s done so much over the past few weeks watching you and caring for you. Maybe it is time one of them tries to step up and help her. You can’t avoid them forever, no matter how much you might feel like trying.

He has to try. For you.

“I know what tae do.” He says, his eyes flickering to the books stacked on your dresser, the ones Simon and John picked up.

Christine squeezes his arm. “I’m just across the living room if you need me.”

“I’ll try not to.” He says.

She stares up at him for a long moment before nodding. She understands. He doesn’t have to say much else. She leaves the door cracked and he doesn’t mind, moving away from you to look through the books on the dresser. A handful of them are new, or at least ones he’s never seen you read before. A couple are ones he knows are in your collection at the barracks. He picks one of those, some fantasy novel he’s seen you read more than once.

He looks between the bed and the chairs. He could pull one over and sit by your side.

No, Christine said it was better to touch you.

Instead he climbs onto the bed, sitting close enough he can feel the heat from your body. He cracks open the book, flipping through to the first page. He clears his throat, staring down at you for a moment before he begins to read.

Rain batters the roof, coming down hard outside. The wind is blowing, whooshing past the house, rattling the shutters. The storm blew in from the sea, dumping rain by dinner and then the wind picked up by the time they were all getting ready to settle in for the night.

It feels fitting, a storm blowing in at a time when a storm is brewing within their pack.

The storm he blew into their pack.

He lays there in bed, listening to it rage outside. It’s quiet in the house, Simon and Johnny already settled in, and so are you downstairs. Kyle is beside him, but not asleep. He’s laying awake again as they have done since their arrival. He can feel the heat of Kyle’s body against his arm as he lays on his back, Kyle on his side facing away from him.

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?” Kyle asks quietly, breaking the silence. “Can’t even go a week without trying to apologize knowing full well she won’t forgive you.”

John stays silent, having expected some kind of reprimanding for his actions. He really was selfish for what he did. Kyle is right. You won’t forgive him, no matter how many times or ways he tries to say sorry.

“You’re just making it worse.” Kyle huffs out. “You’re the last person that should try apologizing right now.”

“You’re right.” He finally says. “It was selfish of me to do that. I just wanted her to know-”

“She knows.” Kyle snaps, cutting him off. “She’s not stupid and oblivious. She knows we’re all feeling guilty, she knows how sorry we all are. She won’t let us apologize until she’s ready. Shows just how little you actually understand her, trying to do that.” Kyle pushes himself up to sit. “She doesn’t want words. She’s had words spewed at her, her whole life telling her what to do, how to feel, how to act. She wants actions. She wants us to prove to her that we do care, that we are sorry, that we’re making an effort to make things up to her. She wants us to prove that we’re putting her first by putting her first.”

John knows he’s right. Words won’t solve a situation like this. None of them know where to start, though. How do you try and make things up to someone when you’re not even sure that person wants you to try?

“She’s sick now, because of what you did.” Kyle continues. “If anything happens to her...” He trails off, shaking his head.

“I’ll let you take the first shot.” John says. “I know. I’ve been a miserable excuse of an alpha. It’s easy when you have the confines of the military to hold everything in place. When those expectations dictate your life and how to run a pack. It’s easy, when you can exist as a pack with those set routines and structures. The facade that makes everything seem like it's working.” He shakes his head. “We never would have worked outside of those confines.”

Kyle’s head turns slightly towards him, but his gaze is still on the far wall. “No, we wouldn’t have. None of us would have chosen this in the first place.”

“Probably not.” John agrees. “Then we got an omega added, an outsider that showed us just how weak we really were.”

“We were crumbling long before that.” Kyle says. “We weren’t ready for an omega, we shouldn’t have ever had an omega.”

“I should never have been head alpha.” John says. “Being an alpha is different from being a captain. It shouldn’t have been me.”

Kyle snorts. “He would have never agreed.”

“That delay might have saved us.”

“Or it would have made things worse.” Kyle says. “Shepherd wanted us to bond with her right away so his control over us would strengthen if he had to use that power. If those bonds weren’t put into place when they were, they might have tried to force it.”

“That would have only destabilized things further.” John says. Kyle isn’t wrong. Who knows what lengths they would have gone to, to ensure what they wanted would happen. “They were watching us from the start. They knew exactly how to play all of us.”

“Simon was right all along in his suspicions.” Kyle says, laying back down on the bed. Their shoulders are touching. It feels nice, having him close again. They’ve been close for the last few days, forced together by their sleeping arrangements, but it feels different now.

“He’ll be a better alpha than I ever could be.” John says quietly, almost speaking to himself.

“I think she will come to forgive you eventually.” Kyle says, turning his head to look at John. “You just have to give her time. A lot of time. You have to figure out how to prove yourself worthy of that forgiveness.”

“I want to take her to the beach.” John says. “Once she’s recovered.”

“If she recovers.” Kyle had pieced together the worry in Christine’s voice combined with her words. They all had.

“She will.” John says, sliding his hand across the sheets. “She’s a tough little thing. She’s not going to give up just like that.”

“I hope you’re right.” Kyle says. He doesn’t pull away as John’s fingers brush his hand.

“I may not have the best track record with being right currently, but I’m confident in her and her strength.” John turns his head to look at Kyle in the darkness. The storm is calming outside, the wind dying down and the rain lightening. “She’s stronger than all of us combined.”

The corners of Kyle’s lips twitch. “You are right about that.”

It smells good.

There’s a rich scent in the air as you begin to wake. It smells like Christmas, like spices and citrus. Warm gingerbread and cider. Freshly squeezed orange juice on Christmas morning just like every year. It had been your favorite, though you never understood the lengths your mother went to, the early morning and the hours spent in the kitchen on Christmas slaving away to make everything perfect. Everyone got something they wanted, something they loved. You never appreciated that effort until now.

Oranges. Spices. Warmth.

You know that scent.

It’s hot in the room, sweat soaking your skin as you lay on your right side. Heat surrounds you like a cocoon, just like the scent. Warm and soft and too much. You try to wiggle out from under the blankets but you can’t move, so instead you shuffle them off. Some of them hit the floor with soft plops, the others just barely hanging on the side of the bed, trapped under your body. You’re still stuck, still hot as you lay there, a comforting weight around you. The scent floods your nose, fills your body with a pleasant feeling as you lay there, breathing through your nose. Oranges, spices, warmth.

Someone is baking a pie.

It smells good. You want to bury yourself in it, press yourself into that scent until it’s the only thing you can smell. It brings you a comfort you didn’t realize you were missing. Something fills your chest, a weight beginning to press down inside of you.

Your hair sticks to your face as you lay there, tempted to get up and see who is baking and why. There’s weight pressing down on you from the outside as well. You can’t move. You’re stuck.

The weight around you moves.

No, it’s not pie.

It’s Johnny.

That’s why you know the scent. That’s why it feels so familiar, so comforting. It’s Johnny. Johnny is pressed up against your back, his arm tossed over your waist. That’s why it’s so hot, his body putting off warmth like a heater.

You should be angry at the breach of your clearly placed barriers. You should be upset that he would come in here and just climb in bed like this. You should be pissed that one of them would try something like this after your outburst yesterday.

You shouldn’t be crying.

Not out of relief.

Oh how you missed this.

Something begins to throb in your chest as you lay there, crying quietly in Johnny’s arms. Something begins to thrum deep within you, something you haven’t felt in weeks. Life? Hope? Happiness?

You should be upset.

You can’t be.

Johnny grunts quietly behind you, his arm leaving your waist as he stretches. He’s awake now, or maybe he hadn’t been at all and had been waiting for some sign of life, some movement from you, something to try and give him a hint at what you must be feeling. He doesn’t say anything, laying still as you sniffle in the silence. No one else is up yet, despite the blue light of dawn coming in through the gap in the curtain.

“Johnny?” You whisper, even the quiet sound hurting your sore throat. You’re thirsty, desperately so, but that’s a problem for later.

“It’s me, kitten.” He says hesitantly, the pet name making a sob tear from your throat.

“Johnny,” You cry, the tears falling in a cascade. You can’t stop them. You’ve lost complete control as you lay there sobbing. “Hold me.”

He doesn’t say anything else, his arms wrapping around you and tugging you close against his chest. He locks you in his embrace, holding you tightly against his chest as you cry. It feels good. Life and energy flows through you again for the first time in weeks. That empty space in your chest begins to fill slowly, warmth blossoming in your body despite the sweat soaking you both. Johnny offers no complaints as he presses his face into your hair.

How you missed this.

How you need this.

You seem more relaxed at dinner. Despite your angry outburst the day before, and your sudden illness, you look significantly less miserable than you did your first attempt at joining them for dinner. The yelling did a number on your throat, but even now it’s nothing compared to that first day. You’re having soup again, and this time there’s a side of mash and peas next to the bowl.

You even walked to the table without the crutch.

Simon sits beside you again, all of them taking their respective seats at the table. They’ve assigned themselves these seats, even when you don’t join them for a meal. You’re at the head of the table as you were the first time, Simon and Chrstine on either side of you. Kyle and Johnny are seated next to them, and John is across the table from you. You’ve been avoiding looking at him. You haven’t even so much as glanced up at him.

Simon is watching you carefully out of the corner of his eye, trying not to make it obvious. If you’ve noticed, you haven’t shown any disapproval. He’s ready in case he has to act fast again, but you are far more steady than you were that first time. There’s no tremble to your hand as you bring the spoon up to your mouth.

The others look happier than before too. Johnny has stopped crying. Not even a sniffle from him ever since this morning when he emerged from your room. None of them had said anything about it, though they have an inkling of what had happened, judging by Christine’s lack of reaction to it. Kyle looks happier too, sitting straighter like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It probably has, with the lightening of the mood. Whatever happened with Johnny this morning, it’s made a huge change already.

John has never been much of a religious man, but god bless Johnny for whatever magic he worked this morning.

You don’t even look feverish as you sit there, spooning soup into your mouth. A lingering low-grade fever, Christine had informed them earlier that afternoon, but significantly less concerning than things had been yesterday.

He’s glad to hear it. He’s always glad to hear Christine’s updates on how you’re doing, how well you’re healing, at least physically. The body heals easily. Mentally...there’s still a long way to go. Healing physically will help mentally, but with all the trauma, years and years of trauma, it’s going to take a long time to heal from that.

The clink of your spoon in your bowl draws him from his thoughts and he glances up at you.

“Getting full?” Christine asks as you take a sip of your water, wincing slightly as you swallow it.

“Can I have some tea?” You ask.

“Sure,” Christine says, going to push her chair back, but John is already standing.

“I’ll make some.” He says, not offering any room for argument as he turns his back on the table to head for the kettle.

You’ve been drinking more tea lately, likely to soothe your throat. He never thought he’d see the day, given your determination to stand with Johnny on the side of coffee. It’s a bit late for coffee, but he does know it wouldn’t keep you awake in the slightest. You love your sleep, as most omegas do, and nothing will get in the way of it. Not even some late evening caffeine.

He sets mugs out on a tray, deciding to make tea for everyone. At least that way it’ll make it seem less targeted at you. He’s not doing it to try and impress you or win your affections back. He just wants to help take the load off of Christine’s shoulders. She’s done so much for you, for all of them, already.

He steeps the tea before bringing the mugs to the table along with some milk and sugar. He knows at least Simon and Kyle will drink some, and he will as well. He brings the kettle over, filling the mugs with tea. All of them sit there watching him, waiting tensely for what will happen next. Will you take the mug of tea he offers? Or will you refuse. Even if you threw it in his face, it wouldn’t make him mad. It would be horribly painful, yes, but he would deserve it.

Perhaps him doing this was a mistake.

He stares at the sugar and milk as he grabs one of the mugs. Do you like sugar or milk in your tea? He’s not sure. He doesn’t even know how you take your tea. He knows you like creamer in your coffee. But how do you take your tea?

What a sad excuse of a human being he is.

You don’t look at him as he sets the mug next to your water glass. You’re still eating your soup, your hand trembling just slightly now. Your scent is tainted still, a whiff of it filling his nose. Displeasure, a hint of burning anger.

This was a mistake.

He sets the milk and sugar next to you first, letting you finish making your tea. He won’t push that boundary and risk making it wrong. It would only add fuel to the fire, make it more obvious that he knows and cares so little for you. He doesn’t even know how you take your tea.

He takes his seat again as the others help themselves to the tea, even Johnny taking a mug. Whether he’s doing it because he wants to make the moment feel less awkward, or because he genuinely wants some, John will never know.

He made a mistake in doing that.

Still, despite the awkwardness, it felt good to do that.

Maybe that’s how they get closer to you.

The little things, things that take some of the pressure off Christine. She has to be getting tired, going nonstop all day. Anything they can do to help, they should. Things seemed to go well with Johnny, so maybe the others can have some success in their attempts to gain your favor once more.

John will have to stay away for now. Distance is what you need from him.

That’s alright. He has other things he can do.

He tries to hide the small grin on his face as you pick up the mug, taking a sip of the tea.

They’re fighting.

You stand at the back door watching them throw punches. They’re solid punches, nothing held back, no pulling them. They’re all breathing heavily, two of them watching the other two fight.

Simon’s fist meets Kyle’s shoulder, Kyle’s fist going for Simon’s head but he’s too fast, ducking before he drives his shoulder into Kyle’s stomach. Kyle hits the grass, disappearing from your view.

John steps forward, pulling Simon back and speaking to him, but you can’t hear from this distance.

“Still out there?” Dr. Keller asks, stepping up beside you.

“Yep.” You say, watching as Johnny takes Kyle’s place against Simon.

“John did say it would be good for them.” Dr. Keller says, wincing as Johnny’s fist hits Simon’s ribs.

“They’re gonna start a real fight.” You say, watching as Simon starts to get more aggressive. You can tell because you’ve been in that position before. You’ve seen when that switch starts to flip, when the alpha starts to take over. He was never this aggressive with you, but perhaps even his alpha could be rational given your obvious size and strength difference.

And the fact you’re an omega.

“Well, that’s their problem.” Dr. Keller says. “As long as they keep it out there.”

“They might make you patch them up afterwards.” You say.

She lets out a snort. “There’s ice packs in the freezer and a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

You try to hide your smile as you watch John get in between Johnny and Simon, speaking to Simon again. Maybe it will be good for them to get some of that pent up energy out. They’re all used to being so active and always having something to do. Being stuck inside has to be driving them stir-crazy. Simon has been going on runs in the morning, and you know John has been going on walks every so often.

You’re starting to feel a bit stir-crazy yourself. It’s taking you back to the days shut up in the barracks, unable to go anywhere or do anything, having to entertain yourself for hours while they were gone. At least there you had space and room to move around, even when you were being trailed, one of them constantly following you around. They might not be hovering quite as obviously here, but it still feels suffocating, like you can’t truly have a moment to yourself.

“I want to go for a walk.” You say, shifting on your feet. The likelihood of you going very far is slim, at least right now.

How far you’ve fallen from your running days.

“I suppose you could go for a little walk.” Dr. Keller gives you a sideways glance. “Might be good to help get your strength back. I doubt they’d let us go without one of them, though.”

“Probably not.” You agree, knowing they won’t even let you sit out on the porch without one of them watching. If you left the house without even telling one of them, all hell would break loose and you’d be condemned to your room once more.

The thought makes you wince.

You almost wish you could go out there and throw some punches at one of them. That might make you feel a bit better. Hell, line them all up and you’ll take turns beating the crap out of all of them. Maybe that might heal some of the anger and pain still stuck inside of you.

That’s an idea for a different day, though.

It’s oddly warm out today, or at least that’s what Ashley said. Soon the weather will turn, though, and the cold rain will come. Lots of rain.

Your eyes flick between Ashley and Dr. Keller. The three of you are seated in a circle around a table outside, steaming mugs of tea in front of you. Neither of them are staring at you, instead focused on each other as Ashley speaks.

Dr. Keller has a crush.

It’s not hard to tell. Her eyes are focused on Ashley, a smile tugging at her lips. Her gaze only flicks to you when you shift and move in your seat before she’s staring at Ashley again. You can’t blame her. You can hardly bring yourself to look away from Ashely too.

It makes you almost miss Kyle.

They have the same soft brown eyes and the same bright smile. They’re both perfect, like they were chiseled out of marble and brought to life. They even laugh the same, a genuine chuckle coming right from the chest.

It makes you want to laugh, even if you have no clue what was being said.

How has Kyle been handling this? You’ve hardly paid him any mind. His connection to John puts him too close to the source of your anger and rage and pain. Johnny cries, Simon is a brick wall, John reeks of guilt and misery. Kyle...you don’t know. He’s been a blank spot, a hazy figure in the distance.

It almost makes you feel bad. You’ve completely cut him off, isolated him. Has he cried? Has he been sulking? How miserable does he feel about everything? Does he feel guilty or miserable at all? He has to. They all do.

Good. You think. They deserve it.

“You do get stuck in your head, huh?”

Your gaze snaps up, looking between Dr. Keller and Ashley. They’re both staring at you quietly, a small smile on Ashley’s face. You did get lost in your thoughts again, stuck in your ruminations as you usually do. Lately it hasn’t been a problem, as you’re alone or with Dr. Keller often. You’re supposed to be thinking and processing. It just happens at the worst times.

Simon would hate it still.

“Something specific on your mind?” Dr. Keller asks.

You probably shouldn’t say anything. How would you explain how your mind went from Dr. Keller crushing on Ashley to hoping the guys feel guilty? You’re not even sure you should reveal that you know about Dr. Keller’s crush, especially if she hasn’t said anything yet. You don’t think she has. They’re not...close in the way a couple would be, a distance still between them. Does Ashley feel the same way? It’s hard to tell since you don’t know her quite as well yet.

Maybe that can be your goal, besides healing. Something to focus on, something to distract from the constant emotions and pain. Get Ashley and Dr. Keller together.

They’d be perfect for each other.

“Not really.” You finally say, looking down at the book in your lap. You’re about halfway through it. It’s fine. Nothing to write home about.

“What do you think of the book?” Ashley asks, sensing your end to that discussion. She doesn’t push. You like that about her.

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Kinda slow.”

“They are spending a lot of time on character development.” Dr. Keller says.

“We should keep a tally of how many times the phrase “his dark eyes” gets mentioned.” Ashley says, making you laugh.

“It’s good to hear you laugh.” Dr. Keller says, smiling at you.

“It...feels good to laugh again.” You say. “It’s nice to have something to laugh about.”

“Well then I’m going to make that my mission.” Ashley says, taking a sip of her tea. “Get you to laugh as much as possible.”

You don’t think you’ll mind that one bit.

“There’s something we need to talk about.”

You don’t turn to look as Dr. Keller sinks into the seat next to you. It’s raining again, the rain pattering against the window as you sit in front of it. They won’t let you go out in the rain.

“Something that is rather important.” She continues. “Something you should know.” She clears her throat, not waiting for a response. She knows she won’t get one. “When you told John that he left you there to be tortured...is that what Graves told you? Did he tell you they left you behind?”

Her words have something sinking in your stomach. Your insides are squirming, your intestines tying themselves in knots. You haven’t even thought about that. You’ve been so caught up in the emotions, swept up in the anger and devastation. The memories of what happened are still blurry, still stuck in the recesses while your body heals.

That pit in your stomach continues to drop as she stares at you, waiting for an answer.

You don’t want to answer.

“Hey,” She says softly, leaning to try and stay in your line of sight as your eyes begin to drop to the side. “We need to talk about this.” There’s a serious look on her face as your eyes slowly lift to stare at her again. “Do you believe they chose to leave you behind with Graves?”

Tears prick behind your eyes as you stare at her. Of course you do. Why wouldn’t they? They’ve left you behind so many times, what’s another? They don’t care that you were being tortured. They never cared that them leaving you before was like torture. Why would they waste the chance to go after Shepherd before he found a place to hide?

The job comes first.

“Yes.” You breathe, a tear sliding down your cheek. You want to say it, let all the thoughts rushing through your mind pour right out of your mouth but the tears choke you, keep you silent.

The serious mask on Dr. Keller’s face melts away to a sympathetic look. It doesn’t surprise you. It’s the look she often wears when she looks at you.

“Oh, honey.” She says, reaching out, but you withdraw yourself further away. “They didn’t leave you behind. They were doing everything they could to try and find where you were. John about blazed a path across the US to find you.”

You don’t want to believe it. It sounds too good to be true. Her words stir the bitter pot in your stomach, the anger at them and at yourself. You let yourself believe that they would care about you, but they led you to believe they cared. They left you so easily and you never said anything to them to try and keep them with you. They left you behind when they knew it was dangerous, and you believed Phil when he told you they had abandoned you.

Why would Phil tell you the truth? He wanted to torture you, wanted to take out his anger on you. It wasn’t your decision, nothing was your decision, but in the end the mark on your shoulder sealed your fate. You’d never belong to him. The more he could tear you and your pack down the better. The more hopeless you felt, the more you hated the members of your pack, the more satisfaction he would get.

He wanted to drive the wedge between your pack, and you fell for it.

Tears glide down your cheeks as you turn to face the window. They mirror the droplets of rain sliding down the glass. Your fingers curl against the fabric of the chair, your breaths starting to come in gasps as reality begins to settle in.

“You’re okay.” Dr. Keller says, kneeling next to the chair. “I was there with them, I saw just how desperate they were. They wouldn’t leave you like that. Trust me.”

Can you trust her? Can you trust any of them? Part of you would like to. The part of you that wants things to go back to the way they were, when things felt fine, when you still believed your pack loved you. Back when you could be delusional and believe something good could come of this entire situation.

Now you’re stuck with a pack that never wanted you. Now you’re stuck with the trauma of the last few weeks, trauma you should have never faced in the first place. Not if your pack truly cared about you. It was always a risk, but you always believed they would take care of you, they would keep you safe.

Now look at you.

A sob tears from your lips as you sit there, the thoughts quickly growing to be too much. Dr. Keller reaches for you but you pull away, pushing yourself up to stand. You move towards the bed, grabbing one of the plush pillows. You bring it to your face, letting out a long, muffled scream.

The scream dies in your throat as you jolt awake in bed. The book that had been in your hands when you fell asleep drops to the floor with a quiet thud as you jerk up into a seated position. You’re breathing heavily, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you try and calm your racing heart. It’s beating hard like it might beat right out of your chest. You’re shaking, your hands clutching at the baggy shirt you’re wearing like you’re trying to cling to some hope that it was all a dream, that you’re awake now and this is real life.

Sweat beads on your forehead as you sit there, shaking in the darkness. You need someone. The shadows are closing in around you, your nightlight unable to keep them completely away. You need someone to fight them back. You need someone to reassure you that it was all just a dream, someone that can wipe the tears streaming down your cheeks and whisper softly to you that it’s all okay. That it’s all over.

You need Kyle.

Where is Kyle? How do you get to him without waking the others? You could go upstairs but what if they think you’re an intruder? You don’t even know which room Kyle is in. You wish you had a phone. You wish you could call him. You wish you could just telepathically reach out and tell him you need him and only him.

You’ll wake them all anyway trying to find him.

You suck a breath in, your hands still shaking as they cling to your shirt. You have to do it. It’s the only way to get them all down here, to get Kyle down here.

You take a couple deep breaths before you scream.

Within seconds the house is alive, footsteps racing across the living room towards your room as others thud from above.

The overhead light stings your eyes, forcing them closed. It’s too bright, intrusive even with your eyes pinched closed. You can still see it behind your eyelids, harsh and too artificial. Just a price you have to pay to get what you need.

Dr. Keller’s hands are soft as they peel your hands off your shirt, your fingers trembling with nothing to hold on to. They open and close, seeking out something to grip, something to give you an anchor to reality. You’re still panicking, your breaths shaky as you shit there, trembling in fear.

“You’re alright,” She tries to soothe you, brushing your sweaty hair back. “It was just a dream.”

You wish it was.

“Kyle.” The name comes out as barely a whisper, stuttering out of your trembling lips.

“What was that, sweetie?” Dr. Keller asks, leaning in closer.

“Kyle.” You whisper louder now, the name shaky in the tense silence of the room.

“Kyle,” Dr. Keller repeats, standing up straight.

Quiet, hesitant footsteps approach the bed. Your eyes are still pinched closed against the harsh overhead light. You can’t bring yourself to be brave enough to open them, to face that harsh light. It might reveal the truth, that it was all just a dream, that this is still just a dream.

It might not be Kyle approaching the bed at all.

You can’t know. You don’t want to know. You’re afraid to open your eyes.

There’s a click as the lamp is turned on. You still can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. It’s supposed to be comforting, the soft light, but it could be used against you, giving you a false sense of hope and security.

You flinch as the overhead light is turned on, still too afraid to open your eyes. Your hands have closed around the blanket pooled at your waist, gripping it so tightly your fingers are aching. It’s real. You’re touching it, you can feel the texture of it in your hands. It’s real.

It’s real.

Your breaths are shaky as you breathe in and out, trying to catch a scent. Any scent. Something to tell you that you’re really awake, that it really is Kyle standing next to the bed.

“I’m here.” A soft voice says, something hovering in the air next to you.

Kyle.

You know that voice. You’d know it anywhere.

You finally crack your eyes open, tears brimming as you turn your head to look up. Kyle is standing there awkwardly next to the bed, his hand raised as if he was reaching out to comfort you, but thought better of it. You’re glad he did. You might have spiraled into another panic if he’d touched you before you knew it was him.

You stare at his hand for a moment before you peel one of your hands away from the blanket. Your hand is shaky as you lift it, reaching out towards his own trembling fingers.

His fingers are warm and rough, just as you remember as they close around yours. You’re still shaking, a cold sweat forming on your skin as fear trickles down your spine.

What if this is a dream? What if this isn’t real?

“I’m here.” He says, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

You want to believe him. You really do.

You pull his hand closer, pressing your cheek against it. His skin is warm against your cheek, and like Johnny, he makes no complaints about your sweat smearing on his skin. You’ve been that close to them before, sweat mixing together, slicking skin. How far things have fallen since then.

Your tears drip onto his skin as you hold him there, just breathing him in for a moment. He smells like the sea, but with that soft, light scent underneath. You missed that scent, more than you realize you did.

You let out a quiet sound as you rub your cheek against his hand, almost like you’re trying to embed his scent under your skin.

He doesn’t say anything as you lean against his hand, tears still streaming down your face. The lamp is pushing some of the darkness away, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. You can still feel the eyes from the dark corners of the room, the shadowy figures just out of view threatening to reach out and tear you away.

A shudder runs down your spine, your fingers squeezing around Kyle’s in what has to be a painful grip.

“I’m here.” He says again, pulling you from the dark thoughts plaguing your mind. He’d know if someone was here. He’d know if anything threatening was nearby.

It’s his job.

The job.

The thing that’s kept you so separated from them, kept you at a distance. The thing that put your life in danger, that exposed them all as liars. The thing that’s left you an empty shell.

Maybe having him down here was a mistake.

But the shadows...

You tug on his hand, pulling him closer to the bed. He sinks down on the edge carefully, still a bit hesitant. You don’t blame him. It’s not like you’ve been the most welcoming of them. For good reason.

You need him right now. That need for safety and security far outweighs the conflicting emotions battling in your brain right now.

“Stay.” You say, the word tumbling out from your trembling lips.

“You’re sure?” He asks, his thumb still stroking your knuckles. You’re not sure if he even knows he’s doing it.

You nod, tugging him closer as you scoot over in bed. He lets you guide him, laying on top of the covers.

You try not to think about it too much.

It’s nice having him close. The shadows don’t seem quite as dark, the threats in them silent now that he’s here. He’ll keep you safe. He’ll protect you from the silent threats. That’s why you want him. That’s his role to play in all of this. They all have roles, they all have their places in the pack. They all have a part to play, not just for you but for each other.

They’ve been struggling.

They’re struggling because you’re struggling.

The silence is loud as you lay there listening to the hum of electricity. You’re not quite sure what to say, how to break the silence. What is there to say that you haven’t already conveyed by your silence? What is there to say beyond what you’ve conveyed in your anger? They all heard your outburst, they all know the source of your anger and what they did to cause it.

What’s left to say when you have nothing tying you together anymore except a claim and a half-broken bond? What is there to say when saying the wrong thing might fray that bond even more than it already has been?

“I’m sorry.” Kyle says, finally breaking the tense silence.

Of course he’d start with that.

You let out a huff, turning on your side to face away from him. “I know you all are. You don’t have to keep saying it.”

He lets out a sigh. He knows it. He’s not apologizing to you, for you. “Nothing can change what we did and we know that. We just...want you to know that we’ll do whatever it takes to help you and support you. We don’t want to push that boundary too far, but we’re all here if you need us.”

You let out a hum. You already know that too. That’s why Johnny came so willingly, that’s why he stayed. That’s why they all tiptoe around you and stare at you like you’re a wild animal that may strike at any moment.

Part of you wishes they wouldn’t.

Part of you wants to go back to the way things were. Part of you wants to pretend that everything is normal again, that you love them and they love you just as much. You want to go back to that comfortable, seamless flow of one around the other, the way they all moved in sync, aware of each other without even needing to look. You want to insert yourself into that flow again and let them guide you along with them. You want to trust them blindly again and know they’d catch you if you fall.

They proved they won’t though. They proved you can’t trust them to catch you. You’re on your own again, forced to catch yourself, forced to save yourself. You have to make that rope to catch yourself with.

Yet, a deeper part of you yearns for that connection. Your omega screams for it, for your alpha, for your pack. You want them back with you, you want the bonds to heal and to be stronger than they were before. You want them to do as they said and prove to you that they’ve changed, that they're putting you first.

The omega should be first. The omega should be the center. The omega should be the sun they gravitate towards, revolve around.

That’s what the book said. That book that’s sitting on your desk in the barracks. That book you read over and over, convincing yourself that it was true and they were a good pack like that book said.

They’re not.

We all make mistakes.

They’ve never had an omega before. How are they supposed to know how to have an omega in their pack if they’ve never had one before? None of them came from big packs. John is the only one who’s ever even dated an omega before. They’re just as new at this as you are.

You probably know more than them.

You spent years learning how to be an omega in a pack. You read the books and wrote the essays and did the research. You read that book.

Simon read that book too.

Yet he did nothing.

“Why did you want me?” Kyle asks softly, pulling you from your ruminations.

You turn your head to look at him, staring into those soft brown eyes. Brown eyes you’ve missed. Tears trail down your cheeks as you stare at him, wetting the paths of the ones that had slowed to a stop in your rumination.

Why did you want him and not Johnny?

Johnny was the one that came for you, that comforted you, that got you through your fever. Johnny was the one you asked to hold you, to give you that support you’ve been so desperately clawing for.

So why did you ask for Kyle?

You turn onto your back again so you’re laying side by side, your shoulder brushing his. He’s warm, and you just want to nuzzle into him and never let him go again.

Another tear slides down your face as you stare at him, at that concerned look on his face. “I need you to tell me it’s going to be okay.”

That concern morphs into understanding as he shifts slightly, reaching out for you. You let him, you let his thumb brush the tear sliding down your cheek away. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at you as you lay there in the warm light of the lamp. The shadows don’t seem so close now, so threatening with him here. The things that lay in the darkness waiting for you to sleep so they can seep into your mind and stir up the horrible memories lying there in wait are at bay for now, fought off just simply by his existence in this room.

His thumb continues to brush your cheek, your skin tingling along the path it follows. “It’s going to be okay.” He says softly, quietly.

You’re not sure if he’s convincing you of that or himself, or perhaps both. You don’t know what he’s feeling, what he’s been feeling. You’ve been ignoring him, pushing him away out of fear that if you looked too closely, you’d break down. That bond will never break between the two of you, held tight with steel simply because of that claim your alpha and his alpha has on the both of you. No matter how much you hate John, that bond can’t be broken. It can’t be cut. It can’t go away. It can’t be denied. Not completely.

A small smile tugs at Kyle’s lips, a reassuring smile. His words are stronger this time, spoken with more conviction and surety, like he’s speaking it into existence, manifesting it for the future when things perhaps can be different.

When things are better.

“It’s going to be okay.” He says, cupping your cheek, staring right into your eyes as he speaks. “We’re going to be okay.”

NEXT ->

To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

#call of duty #call of duty fic #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #Johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #Kyle Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #John price x reader #captain price x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Ghost x reader #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega #omegaverse

2K notes · View notes

alllgator-blood · 21 days ago

Text

FINISHED THAT ONE COMIC I POSTED ABOUT ALMOST 30 FULL DAYS AGO?? I FINALLY REMEMBERED IT EXISTED AND FINISHED IT. I HAVE SO MUCH I WANT TO SAY ABOUT MY LAMB NOW THAT THEY'RE FINALLY THE MAIN CHARACTER IN A LONG COMIC, BUT it went on forever so I put it below the cut.

While we're above the cut, I have a bunch of REALLy good asks I'll be trying to draw for soon. But keep an eye out for a poll coming up soon...cause now that this is out of the way, I want another big project to have in the background and I have Big Ideas for Big Angst Comics........

OH YOU CLICKED THE THING, NICE. OKAY. SO:

Have I ever talked about how my lamb works?? I need to do more with them but I'm a bishop enjoyer to an obsessive degree. The lamb operates on the same kind of level as kallamar did during the breakdown comic, but on a more permanent, more stable level. After being told to hide for their whole life, to never show their face and not even being given a name......being beheaded by four gods and recruited by a fifth forgotten one who claims they're the Chosen One just made the lamb think "OH! None of this is real. My brain wanted me to feel important before I died, and this is my dying vision. Okay, I'll play along >:)" and now they're the equivalent of when you beat a game and replay it while picking the funniest/worst options to see what'd happen.

USUALLY their decisions are clouded by the assumption that nothing they do actually matters, but they're still......a person who held things dear and had standards while they were alive. So they love hijinx, but aren't like leshy who launches people out of catapults for fun, or kallamar who sees mortals more as lab rats than people living their own lives. They'll do some things for the lolz but their humanity definitely shows through when dealing with someone like shamura.

I think they went into the bishop slaying quest wanting to hate shamura, assuming they were an irredeemable antagonist that deserved to be vanquished. They were told by narinder that shamura was the big bad, so they figured there was nothing to it beyond that. But then they actually MET shamura, who wasn't at all what they were expected to be. Every other bishop is just like "RAHH I'LL KILL YOU" when you meet them, and then shamura is the only person who actually tells you about what happened, speaks to you like a person and not an obstacle, and doesn't seem bothered about the fact they're going to die. So that got them thinking....hmm...perhaps these people are slightly more realistic than I anticipated. Still gonna kill them tho

I'm not sure the lamb hates the bishops, especially after the realization that they're a fucked up family acting out in desperation rather than logic. When you're born into circumstances you know will eventually doom you (like being a sacrificial lamb destined for slaughter) you kinda...lose the ability to care after a while. They don't really *forgive* the bishops for the slaughter of their people, and definitely enjoy bullying them and kicking them around now that they're powerless mortals- but the initial horror of being born to die has subsided. Now that they're presumably in some kind of afterlife, and have better, more fun things to move onto now that they're the ruler of everything- it's not worth it to hate those five forever.

I think *because* the lamb has only been a god very briefly and still remembers mortality well, that's why they're the one god who does things "because they're funny" but also is respectful of people like shamura. It's like when you're playing GTA V and you accidentally drive over a dog while trying to pull over and look at it closer. Is it a real dog?? No but you're still gonna feel bad!! So like I said, in the lamb's mind they have NO reason to care about any of these people or show them mercy, but the fact that they're not as detached from mortality as the bishops were makes them a benevolent god. I'll be doing a comic about this very subject in the future and it WILL be depressing >:)

Also. Unrelated. But if you read this far, I feel the need to justify why heket and leshy suddenly have boobs in this comic. I'm sure it's obvious that I headcanon the gods don't have sex characteristics cause like...why would they need those. I don't want to draw that. But as MORTALS they would probably need to have all their organs intact to function properly, so pour one out for shamura + leshy who probably completely forgot they were transgender until they woke up in mortal bodies. NOT SURE HOW KALLAMAR WOULD REACT, I think they're more just horrified they lost all their tentacles

I debated doing another silly comic about the concept but I don't want this blog to get too raunchy, so instead have this epic ms paint art (I CAN MAKE THESE JOKES, I'M AFAB TRANS I DESERVE THIS ONE THING)

#cult of the lamb #cotl bishops #lambert #leshy #heket #narinder #shamura #kallamar #comic

717 notes · View notes

bbydoll18xx · 8 months ago

Text

Keep the Edits Cordial

A tik tok edit of two best friends coaxes out admissions of feelings (and orgasms)

Paige Bueckers x reader

word count: 3.2k

themes: mutual pining (LOML), friends to lovers, smut!!

warnings: i like using the word ‘fuck’, 18+

Thanks for the love on my first post! This is my first attempt at writing smut, so bear with me. I have a few more ideas if y'all are interested!

Despite not being on the uconn’s women's basketball team, or having any shred of athletic ability, you had befriended Paige Bueckers, and her teammates, as an extension, had adopted you with open arms. So you weren't out of place sitting in the apartment of Paige and several of her teammates while she was in class.

“Oh fuck, shit, shit, shit,” you hear KK Arnold swear over on the couch across from where you were sitting, attempting to get some homework done.

A sensual R&B song plays from her phone several times, as her eyes nearly pop out of her head while she watches.

You look up, mildly annoyed at the noise, but you were used to KK’s antics and her overdramatics.

“What the hell is the issue?” you ask.

“Umm…nothing,” she drawls. “Be right back, girly pop. Don’t move.” She runs into Azzi’s room, where Azzi and Caroline were attempting to also be productive.

That was damn near impossible when KK was around.

Your interest peaks as you hear the same music play from KK’s phone again several times over and the giggles and gasps of the three girls fill the bedroom.

“Paige is gonna flip if she sees this,” Azzi says matter-of-factly, as you strain to hear the full conversation.

‘What would make Paige flip?’ you wonder.

“I gotta show this to Ice!” You hear KK exclaim a little too loudly, causing the other two girls to shush her.

KK runs back into the main living space of the apartment where you were sitting. She picks up her stuff with a shit-eating grin before waving to you and rushing out the door.

She was so fucking weird.

Giving up on the essay you were supposed to be finishing, you toss your laptop down and head into the bedroom where Caroline and Azzi are heatedly whispering. They stop as soon as your footsteps near the door.

Why were they acting so suspicious?

“Ladies, would you mind telling me what the actual fuck just happened?” you ask sarcastically. Being out of the loop was not fun.

“Oh you know, just KK being KK,” Azzi said, brushing it off. “Nothing that concerns you really.”

“But it concerns Paige?” you prod, trying to get any information out of her. Being around Azzi for years at this point, you had grown to learn her weak spots.

Your eyes narrow, and you stare her down in a way you could only hope was somewhat threatening.

“If it concerns Paige I wanna know. We’re best friends, c’mon please,” you whine. “Is it another one of those thirsty edits?”

Azzi shakes her head and makes a zip of the lip motion.

You roll your eyes at her childish behavior and look over to Caroline expectantly. She just shrugs. They were no help at all.

“Fine!” You say with a tone of indignation. “I'll find that stupid tik tok myself and see what all the fuss is about.” You spin on your heels and walk out of the room with sheer determination. You miss the smirk Azzi and Caroline share once your back is turned.

You were so fucked.

You type ‘Paige Bueckers’ into the tik tok search bar and begin to scroll with the volume up to identify the same sound blasting out of KK’s phone just a minute ago.

Your head gets a little fuzzy as your vision is assaulted with video upon video of Paige. You were used to calming the jump of your heart when you were around her, but the hedonistic edits made you want to scream. Each edit you came to had clips of her flexing, grinning, and sticking her tongue out in a way that made you want to rub your thighs together. They were paired with lascivious lyrics that caused you to nearly let out a whine.

You had been avoiding tik tok recently for this exact reason. Trying to act normal around Paige all the time was difficult enough. You did not need a ridiculous app to fuel the fantasies that threatened to creep into your mind at every waking moment.

At least your screen time was way down.

Your scrolling quickly stopped as you felt your heart quite literally stop. It was you. In all its glory, with a staggering amount of likes, comments, and views, was what looked to be an edit of you and Paige.

What the fuck?

Your hands shaking, you clicked onto it, hearing the same song as earlier. This was the one the girls were freaking out about.

“Azzi, Caroline, get your asses out here,” you yell, trying to conceal your panic.

They slowly strolled out of the room looking worried.

“I see you found it,” Azzi said with a laugh. “So what do you think now that you’ve seen it?”

Both girls tried to gauge your reaction, but you were more concerned about the fact that Azzi had said earlier that Paige would be pissed about it.

You shrug. You had to choose your words carefully. “Well there are edits of you and Paige together,” you reason. “Lots of people think you two are in some secret relationship, and P has never minded. Why would this be any different?”

“Everyone knows that you and Paige have a special friendship,” Caroline alludes. It goes right over your head.

“Well if she is bothered by this then we are not as close as I thought,” you say quietly, still watching the tik tok, as it plays again. You wanted this edit burned into your retinas.

Occasionally you allowed yourself to feel a tiny sliver of hope that you and Paige could ever be anything more than friends. Everytime she gave you a late night cuddle or placed a hand around your waist, as if it naturally belonged there, made you long for more. You knew better than to feel hopeful though. This stupid edit did nothing to quell the burning need for the tall blonde.

Throwing your phone down, you look up at the two basketball players with a look of indifference you’ve learned to master. “It doesn’t even matter,” you whisper dejectedly.

“C’mon, we all know how you actually feel about Paige. She’s the only one dense enough not to see how crazy you are for her,” Azzi soothes. “Maybe it's time to be honest with her. You never know what she’s feeling until you talk to her.”

You laugh. Fuck that. Feelings are meant to be kept inside until you die or they go away.

You’re hoping the latter will come sooner rather than later, but you doubt you'll get that lucky.

“I don't think so,” you scoff. “I need to go before Paige gets back.”

You leave despite the protests of the two girls, and you make a plan to hide from Paige for the next few days. You knew it was only a matter of time before Ice and KK went running to Paige to show her the edit.

45 fucking minutes. That was how long it took before your door was being bombarded by Paige and her delightfully rambunctious children, Ice and KK. You swore under your breath as you quickly weighed your options. Option 1 was simple: pretend you were gone, although the smell of your microwave popcorn could have easily given you away. Option 2 was the grown up thing to do: open the door and have a conversation like an adult. Option 3 was straight up crazy: jump out of the window and run for the damn hills. You glanced at the open window of your bedroom before shaking your head. You needed to stop watching too much television.

Option 1 was it. Fuck being an adult.

You stood next to the door, waiting for the three girls to give up, but they refused to leave.

“I know you’re in there, c’mon let me just talk to you,” said Paige through the door. “KK and Ice can leave.”

You hesitate, but still reach for the knob of the door.

“Please?” Paige asks again, causing you to let out a sigh of defeat and turn the lock so she can come in.

“Are you pissed?” Paige questions, somewhat harshly, as she walks through your door.

You give her a look of confusion.

“Of course not!” you exclaim. “I thought you might be, though. I heard Azzi tell KK and Caroline earlier that you would flip if you saw it. I was just worried it would make you feel uncomfortable, and then our friendship would feel awkward, and I-” you ramble, trying to make some sense of what you were feeling.

Paige cuts you off with a wave of her hand. “You could never make me feel uncomfortable. I was worried it made you uncomfortable. I wanted to come check on you as soon as KK showed it to me,” she replied gently. “Me and Azzi, we’re used to the rumors, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about people thinking we’re, ya know, in love.” She whispers the last two words as if it was some big secret.

You let out a shaky laugh. “It means nothing to me. That would be ridiculous anyway,” you lie smoothly. Burying your feelings for Paige was an artform for you now.

A quick shadow of something that was hard to read flickered over Paige’s face. You chose to ignore it. ‘It’s easier that way, less messy and complicated,’ you thought sadly. Little did you know, things would get even messier and more complicated.

Two days later you were sitting in class when you hear the same fucking R&B song playing from your classmates phone. You look over at her, meeting her eyes. She smirks and slides closer to you.

“So you and Paige Bueckers, huh?” she says curiously, almost like a taunt. “I’d imagine she’s incredible in bed.”

Her hypothesis startles you.

Who the fuck says that to someone they barely know? You feel your pulse rise in anger, wanting to defend your friend. You feel hot with jealousy. Anyone thinking about your Paigey in a sexual manner made your blood boil. In your mind, she was only yours.

You decided it would be fun to play into it. You lean closer to the gossipy bitch, and with a whisper you say, “you have no idea the things she does to me. Fuckk, I mean, we’ve all seen the edits. Her tongue is always out.” The obnoxious brunette to your left looks shocked, and she rolls her chair further away from you.

With a satisfied smirk, you try to calm the pounding of your heart. ‘What the fuck did I just do,’ you thought. Rule number 1 of being Paige’s friend and only her friend was to avoid thinking of her in the way you really want to. That means no fantasizing, no tik tok edits, and absolutely no talking about having sex with her.

You lay your head onto the desk. What an idiot you were.

As the class comes to a close, you escape quickly to avoid any awkward looks from other people on campus. The last few days have left you feeling unsettled as the edit of you and Paige reached ridiculous levels of popularity. Everyone was now thinking you were somehow involved. You hated how much you wished that to be true.

You had promised Paige that you would hang out once you were finished with your class, trying to keep a semblance of normalcy to your friendship. You rolled into her apartment anxiously, calling out for her. Paige pokes her head out of her bedroom, waving you in with an equally anxious smile.

This worries you. Paige was always the grounded one of the pair of you. Her nervous demeanor makes you think something is wrong. You take a deep breath before sitting opposite her on her bed. It smelled like the lotion she always wears, and you subconsciously inhale a bit longer than normal.

Fuck she smells so good.

Paige stares at you for a few seconds, making you feel hot under her gaze. Those eyes piercing into your soul made you want to scream her name until the neighbors could hear. She takes a breath. “So basically everyone thinks we’re in love,” she deadpans. Her nonchalance makes you squirm. How the hell does she feel about being uconn’s newest gossip train? It's hard to tell.

“Yeah, I kind of figured when I was just asked in class about how you are in bed,” you mutter, blushing at the confession.

Paige looks vaguely surprised at first, before replacing the look with a smirk. “What’d you tell ‘em?” she questions.

With a sudden surge of confidence that you typically only get from ample amounts of alcohol, you reply, “I told her that all those edits of you with your tongue sticking out could only mean one thing.”

Paige grins cheekily. “You’re not wrong. I am great with my tongue. Maybe one day I can show you.”

You think your heart had never beat this fast in your entire fucking life. You were still feeling particularly bold, so you murmur, “I’m free now?” There was no way Paige was going to agree to that, so you get up to leave, before you feel her hand grab yours, pulling you back into her.

“Don’t fucking play with me right now,” Paige demands. “Do you actually want this? Do you want me?”

You nod your head embarrassingly fast. You felt like an overexcited puppy. “P, I’ve wanted this since the first time I saw you.”

“Good,” the blonde replies. “Me too. Now let me show you all of my little tongue tricks.”

Paige grabs your jaw with one hand, placing the other around your throat to keep you right where she wanted you. Your lips meet finally, and everything around you fades into nothingness.

Oh my God, she tastes so good. Paige presses hot, open-mouth kisses down your throat, sending shivers through your whole body and right down between your legs.

“Need you naked for me, babe,” hums Paige. ‘For her you would fight a war,’ you thought, as you stripped your sweatshirt off, revealing the pretty pink lace of your bralette.

You mentally high five yourself for your underwear choices this morning. Showing up in your granny panties would’ve been terrible.

Paige helps you out of your jeans and starts placing tantalizing kisses over your inner thighs and stomach. You can feel your arousal leaking out of you already, making you feel slick with the anticipation of what was to come.

Paige notices the wet spot on your panties, grinning as she lightly blows air over your clothed pussy. You arch your back wantonly, needing more-so much more.

“Please, Paigey,” you whine in a way that gives Paige a big head. “Need you so bad.”

“Use your words, baby. What do you need?” she coaxes, still alternating between kissing your inner thighs and swirling her fingers against your clothed clit.

“Please just touch me, I’ll do anything for you,” you moan brokenly. You could feel yourself start to slip into some sort of subspace. At this point, you’d do anything just to get some more stimulation.

“So polite, aren’t you, babe? I’m gonna take good care of you,” Paige promises before ripping your soaked panties off in one quick motion.

For the first time, you were splayed out naked in front of your best friend, with her having all the power in the world over you. Before you could begin to feel insecure under her piercing gaze, Paige swirled two long fingers into your sopping pussy, admiring how easily turned on you got for her. She brought them up to her mouth, sucking them in and moaning about how good you tasted.

“You taste as sweet as I’ve been imagining for years,” she whispers. “Have a taste.” She brings the same two fingers up to your mouth and drags them across your swollen lips.

You lick your lips and groan at the taste of your own arousal, wiggling around on the bed and humping the air to get any sort of pleasure. Paige presses your hips flush against the mattress, keeping you from moving. She was yours to control as she wished. Finally, she brought her mouth down to your burning heat, starting with a long and slow lick up your pussy. It felt so good you could cry.

“More, P, need more,” you cry. She was being a fucking tease, and you could feel yourself go crazy as she ate you out slowly, as if she was eating her last meal on earth.

She granted you some reprieve as she entered a finger and then another into you, slowly stretching you out with scissoring motions.

“So wet for me, aren’t you my pretty baby,” she gloats, and you try to avoid rolling your eyes back into your head in pleasure. Her fingers pick up a cruel and punishing pace, targeting your g-spot as if it had her name written on it.

She fucking owned you.

Paige, still finger fucking you, presses kisses up your belly, onto your tits, before meeting you in another searing kiss. You want to sob at the sheer pleasure. It was overwhelming; the heat of your best friend’s body pressed flush against you, the moans ricocheting off the walls, and the tightening in your lower belly that threatened to spill everywhere.

“Fuckkk, Paigey, I-i’m gonna cum,” you moan breathlessly. “Please, please let me cum, please I need you,” you whine in an incoherent babble of pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby, I’ve got you,” Paige pants out, riding the highs of dominating you and ensuring the unceasing assault of your g-spot.

With a guttural moan and a string of words that would make a sailor blush, you ride out your high. Paige’s fingers slow as you pant, coming back to reality. She watches your chest rise and fall a few seconds before removing her fingers from your fucked out pussy and licking them clean.

“You did so good for me,” she praises, causing you to squirm, activating your praise kink once again.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “This isn’t going to make things weird now, is it?” you question anxiously. That was the last thing you wanted to happen.

“‘Course not,” promised Paige, linking her pinky finger with yours. “I’m plannin’ on wifing you up now.”

You giggle as the last bits of awkwardness fall away, feeling blissfully fucked out. “What about you, though?” you ask. You wanted to make Paige feel as good as she made you.

“We’ve got all the time in the world, baby,” she replies. “You look like you’re about five seconds away from fallin’ asleep.”

You smile sleepily at her. She knew you a little too well.

“I should send a thank you card to whoever made that edit of us,” you murmured against Paige’s chest, making her laugh.

“And I'm definitely getting rid of all three of my vibrators,” you announce, causing Paige to grin proudly.

Paige was unquestionably okay with that.

#Paige #paige bueckers x reader #paige #paige bueckers #friends to lovers #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers smut

1K notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 2 months ago

Text

Tormented Spirit | 4

Part 1 2 3 4 5

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ayo i did it again (rambled). i have no idea where i went with this but it really wENT yknow, but hey you get fluff!!!!!. ALSO (im looking at you cristi) if it wasnt clear this is set, like, pre-show T_T just before ep 1 lmao (ily cristi im just going through it with my writing) | cross posted on ao3

tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

You did not realize being made a spectacle would be as exhausting as it was. Truly, all you did as your prince brought you to the training quarters of the City Watch, was stand, force a smile and feel their gaze upon you as Daemon instructed them to roughhouse for your (but really his) entertainment. Yet, it felt like you had been running nonstop and only now found reprieve.

Perhaps it was because it was really your mind that was running with the thought of how you snubbed your twin. In truth, you knew Gwayne understood your actions, for he was really the only person who understood you, and yet that was precisely why it ate at you so much. How could you do such a thing to your brother?

At some point, Daemon is too distracted by his sparring soldiers to remember you were there. By the time they began to drink, you gave word to one of the guards and made your way back to the Keep yourself.

You head for your brother's chambers, set on setting things straight. You do not find him there however, and your mind begins to wander. Was he avoiding you? Was he cross?

Upon asking one of his servants, you find that he was tasked with duty from the Lord Hand. Part of you feels comforted by the answer, but then you wonder if the task had something to do with you. You try not to think about it as you head back to your own chambers.

You are ripped out of your train of thought when you hear your name called.

Queen Aemma stands across you, hand on her belly, smile on her lips, "have you come to worry on me, good sister?"

Your back straightens and you clasp your hands in front of you, "my queen. I-I-"

"I do hope not," she stretches, leaning back into her hands, "the last thing I want right now is to have yet another person try to tell me what is best for me and my babe."

You shake your head, turning to your feet, "the last thing I would do is impose my inexperience of child bearing upon you."

Aemma's face softens. She's seldom seen someone who looks as though they suffer more than her. "Excellent."

You lift your gaze.

"Come keep me company then and distract me with tales lacking child bearing."

You are taken aback by the invitation and watch the queen slowly waddle back into her quarters. You delay to realize you should be assisting then promptly rush up to her side. You offer her your arm and she gratefully takes it. She is exhausted by the time you reach her bed.

"Thank you," she sighs, wiping the sweat on her temple.

"Of course," you help her put her feet up. You look over your shoulder momentarily, "have you no one to call to? Shall I call for someone?"

"No," she waves you off, "I merely walked out of the room and looked out of the window for a while. I am fine."

You nod and pull away, fidgeting with your fingers, "is there something I might do for you?"

"Yes," she reaches for your arm, "sit."

So you do.

"And tell me, why on earth did Daemon bring you to the City Watch?"

You freeze upon hearing that.

There is a playful curiosity upon Aemma's features, but you no thin think she asks to embarrass you. Still, you open your mouth and begin to stutter, "h-how did you kno-w?"

She chuckles, leaning deeper into her pillow, "oh, my dear," she rubs her belly, "I am privy to all gossip in the Keep. Tis the only activity one such as I can do in my state. Incidentally, had the opposite been true, it is all the servants speak of—" she slowly reaches for you, pushing your hair back.

You are made acutely aware of the marks on your collar again.

"—how the fragile lamb tamed the ferocious dragon."

You chuckle dryly and stare at your lap. You pick at your nails, feeling your throat tighten, "I tame no one, my queen."

As Aemma looks at you, she thinks again she's not laid her eyes upon someone that looks more pained than herself. The sun was already setting, but the marks on your collarbones were still visible. She wonders if you at least enjoyed yourself when you received those marks. "Perhaps not yet."

You chuckle once more.

"He is stubborn and brash, but he is also loyal and passionate."

"Loyal to himself," you turn to her, "with a passion for deviance."

You are unnerved by the sudden call of your name. Your heart races at her misplaced familiarity.

This might be why you blurt out, "I am no fool."

She straightens up, "I did not say you were."

"I know I am feeble in form, but not in mind. I am a mere piece in someone else's game of chess, but every piece has its purpose, even pawns."

Aemma frowns. Her forehead curls, "and pawns can turn into the most powerful piece."

You stare at her belly.

"The Queen."

You do not tell her it is only true in board games.

"Does it frighten you?"

Your eyes quirk up to hers. Her violet eyes are much softer than Daemon's. She does not clarify, but the way in which she rubs her swollen stomach makes it clear to you what she meant. You rub your own as dread pricks through you, "I do not know how it is possible for anyone not to be frightened."

It is her turn to chuckle.

It perturbs you.

"I will not lie to you," she shifts in her spot, "there is no greater pain in the world than becoming a mother, I think..."

It is mortifying to hear, considering you know how many times Queen Aemma has conceived and given birth. How much more painful it must be, as she remains to have one child. You do not think all your years of pain could ever prepare you for such loss.

"... that can be the most gratifying."

You are taken aback when she reaches for your hand. Her palms are soft, just as her expression.

"I do not presume to know you, but I find that whatever pain I have is eclipsed by love I feel for my babe. Still, when the thought of childbirth gets too much, I retreat into something I loved before my babe."

Your brows furrow.

"Tapestries and tea time," she tilts her head, "and Viserys."

You do not know how to feel as she pulls away.

She rubs her forehead, "even speaking is exhausting when you are with child. Forgive me, but I think I would like to go to sleep now."

You shake your head and stand, "there is nothing to be forgiven. I will leave you to your own comforts," you curtsy.

You roam the candlelit halls as you digest the queen's words. You were on your way back to your chambers, then you remember your brother. You promptly head to his room, finding the door open. "Gwayne?"

Emerge two servants carrying a trunk, greeting you before walking off. Your brows furrow as you watch them. You turn back when you hear your name called.

Your twin walks over, still in his doublet and leather shoes. You begin to get nervous, "you're leaving?"

"Preparing to," he says, eyes falling on your collarbones, "the is still the matter of the tourney."

"Tourney?"

"The queen is set to give birth soon— you must not let that man dishonor you so," he quips through clenched teeth, pulling you into his room.

You are dragged inside and he releases you once you're in front of his bed. He grabs his blanket and drapes it on your shoulders. He gathers you hair and pulls it from underneath, "play dumb if you must."

You knit your brows.

"Bat your lashes at him to have your way."

You tighten the blanket around yourself, "I already have."

"To protect me," he tilts his head, "protect yourself, sister. Put yourself first, always."

You clench your jaw.

"He will be kinder if he believes you to be a bimbo."

You scoff, "must I do such a thing?"

Gwayne narrows his eyes, "he is shaming you purposefully out of spite—for me and our father."

The idea makes you queasy because you knew it was true. Your brother was sensible because he got his sense from you, and yet... you find yourself thinking that is it so farfetched for the prince to simply want to show you off proudly? Even in something like this, you were not even being thought of. "And acting a fool will save me from spite?"

He looks at you the way he did whenever you said something stupid. It offends you because it was not a stupid question. He speaks to you, as if you were four, "if he asks you to wear something compromising again, tell him all your dresses are being washed."

You chuckle dryly, "you honestly think he would believe such a blatant lie?"

"He need not have to," he scoffs, "it's not like he'll go through the trouble of inspecting your closet." He places a hand on your arm, "come. I will walk you to your room."

Something unpleasant bubbles up your throat as Gwayne leads you out. As you exit his chambers, you pull away and choke out, "do you think me a fool, devil?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes, "do not be-"

"Do you truly think that I am slowwitted and senseless?"

Your ears ring because of how says your name. You step back when he tries to take your arm again. Gwayne raises a finger and a brow, "I've had a long day. I do not wish to quarrel."

"And I have not?!" you quip, "answer the question!"

He says your name again, firmer, as though you were a petulant child.

"Just fucking tell me!" you snap.

"Gods!" he wipes his face, "you're acting fucking stupid, I'll tell you that!"

You scoff and shove him with all your might. It barely makes him recoil, but you get your point across, especially when you walk away.

Gwayne sighs and calls your name, following after you.

"I hate you!" you spit back, unwilling to turn back as you feel your eyes begin to water.

"I did not mean it," he calls, quickly coming up to your side, "why would you ask me something you clearly know is not-"

"Then why would you reduce me as such?" you stop in your tracks to glare at him.

Gwayne freezes and scowls back, "why do you think I tell you anything?"

"Stupidity will not save me, you fucking idiot," you blurt back, doing your best to hold back your tears.

"It will fucking save you from scheming rats," he grabs your arms and shakes you gently.

You shake your head as tears stream down your cheek.

"H-"

"Do not make me."

He purses his lips.

"You know I will do it if you tell me to," you mutter, "do not make me."

Guilt eats him whole as you weep. It never gets easier. You'd think that he'd be indifferent to it by now, but he knows the great effort you put in withholding your emotions. It hurts him even more, if anything. He sighs in defeat, dropping his head before wiping your cheeks. He attempts to hush you.

You only further fall apart, "I would be remembered as a stupid, dying girl."

He speaks your name, as if to correct you.

"Please don't leave," you mumble weakly.

"Listen to me-"

"No, promise me you won't le-"

"I am heir to Oldtown," he interrupts, "my place can never be at your side."

"So you forsake me now?"

"Listen," he speaks firmly, "you are my twin sister. There is nothing I have not shared with you, and you know this."

You look down for a moment then shake your head, "I wish you kept a few things to yourself..."

Gwayne releases a breath at your words. He leans down to look you in the eye, "says the woman who bares love bites on her neck for all to see."

You shove him away and tighten your arms around yourself, "ass. That's different."

He rolls his eyes, placing his hands on his hips, "how?"

"I did not chose this," you mutter.

His expression falls. He balls his hands into fists, "I would call our house to banner for you."

You scoff, looking away, "don't be ridiculous."

"An affront to my twin is worse than one to myself," he points a finger to the ground.

"I am his wife," you look back to him.

"And I am a man of honor," he proclaims, "if he kills me, then all will know I died protecting my sister from his malice."

"You idiot," you shake your head at him, "do you think the people would believe the words of a prince or a dead man?"

"A princess."

You stare at him.

"With a tender heart," he takes your arm, leading you off.

You take a moment before responding, "you mean a stupid, dying princess."

"You are not dying," he gives you a serious look.

"We are all dying."

He sighs, "a jolly thought."

"I am dying sooner than you howev-"

"No," he interrupts, "you will outlive me. I will die in battle."

You glare at him, "we cannot both be yearning for death, moron."

"I do not yearn no more than you do," he raises a brow.

You stare at him for a moment. He is in denial. You almost tell him that you still pray the same prayer he caught you praying all those nights ago. You do not.

"You will get better, sister," he says, "I simply won't allow you not to."

You look away, "ever imperious."

His expression slips for a moment as he imagines a world without his twin. It is so grotesque, he cannot bear it. He hides behind humor, "you mean charismatic, dashing, and valiant."

"And stupid."

"And incredibly well-spoken, witty, charming-"

"Shut it."

"-attractive, gallant, seemly—"

You bid each other good night with a smile. Neither of you knew how broken your spirits were after your conversation though, and you never will.

Your head lies heavy on your pillow. You are unsure if you are grateful or resentful that you sleep tonight by yourself.

Meanwhile, Daemon is startled awake by the words of his subordinate. He sets his cup of ale down and chuckles in disbelief, narrowing his eyes at one of the three men he had been drinking with, "what?"

The man clarifies, shifting in his seat adjacent his commander, "you've changed since being wed, my prince. For the better."

The prince chuckles yet again, "pray, tell."

Someone else answers for him, "you have been more gracious during drill training."

Daemon's brows quirk.

"And you have been more forgiving as of late," another blurts.

The first who spoke finally says, "you do not drink with us as often as before. This is the first since you've gotten married."

He scoffs and shakes his head, "so. You think I've grown soft?"

The three immediately straighten up and even manage to muster in unison, "no, commander."

Daemon downs his ale and shakes his head, "I'll show you soft."

The next morn, the queen's words repeat in your mind as you awaken. Retreat in what you love. What was it that you loved? You think of Gwayne, but he is set to leave, Alicent, but you do not wish to burden her with your woes... your father...

Oh... your mother. You could retreat in her.

You sit up and rub your face when your servants enter to wake you.

You lose your resolve to light a candle at the temple at when you realized you'd be dying girl retreating to her dead mother. Pathetic.

By the time your servants are helping you fix your hair, you ask them, "if you could do whatever you wanted for a day, what would you do?"

The servants turn to each other then break into giggles. One says, "I would spend a day with my Gwilym."

You watch them in the mirror as they squeal under their breath.

You turn to your nails. You cannot retreat into Daemon.

After they're finished squealing, the other speaks, "mmm. I might go foraging for fruits and flowers."

You lift your head upon hearing that.

"And if I had my pay that day, I'd buy myself some lemon cake."

Your lips part at the idea, "you absolute wit." You turn to her as much as you could as she fixed your hair, "what a brilliant idea."

She chuckles and curtsies, "thank you, milady."

By the time your ward comes, you're already at the door, eager to greet him.

He examines your smile. His brows knit and belly feels uneasy as you take his arm.

You narrow your eyes at his face, doing your best to distinguish who exactly you were face to face with. You forget if it was Arryk with the longer beard or Erryk. You mumble as you make a face, "Erryk?"

"Yes," he nods, feeling stomach rolls, "how are you, my princess?"

You grin, squeezing his steel clad arm as much as you could, "oh, how good of me to get it right. I am glad to have guessed well."

Erryk chuckles under his breath, "you wound me. Am I not set apart in your eyes?"

You stiffen at his expression. You mistake the softness in his eyes for hurt, which is why you release his arm and begin to apologize, "oh, ser. I do not mean to offend, I-"

Erryk raises his hands, "no, my lady. Twas a jest."

Your eyes widen at the clarification. You laugh awkwardly, "ah... apologies."

"Nay," he shakes his head, "I apologize. I do not wish to cause you discomfort."

You huff and give a curt nod, "then," you take his arm again, "I ask that you humor me today, ser Erryk."

His brows furrow. He is intrigued.

"I..." you trail off, gathering your resolve, "wish to go out and pick flowers today." you profess with a soft smile. You raise a finger, "I am am not a fussy passenger. I do not mind sitting in front or behind you on horseback, but I fear I do not know how to control a horse on my own very well," you look away in thought, "we do not have to go very far out of King's Landing, so if it is not possible to get a horse, I will not complain if we walk."

Erryk finds himself smiling as you continue to justify yourself.

"I would not take very long to pick flowers, but if I do," you turn back to him, "I would not refute you if you think we must away."

He nods at your words, "have you broken fast yet?"

You both walk off. You shake your head, "I have not. But I will be quick!"

He shakes his head, "my brother mentioned that you do not like eating alone. If it be agreeable with you, we can break fast together."

You stop in your tracks upon hearing this, "ser Arryk mentioned this?"

Erryk simply nods.

The thought pinches your heart, "it... it was a passing comment. I did not think it noteworthy."

His brows knit at your expression, "do not be so surprised. It is our duty to care for you."

Care for you. You turn to your feet, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. It takes a moment for you to comport yourself, but then you manage turn back at him and smile, "how the gods have blessed me."

His gut reacts to your smile. He releases a breath to calm himself, "we can pick flowers after breaking fast, my princess."

You gasp, "so you agree?!"

Erryk face falls in confusion.

"You would allow me to pick flowers?!" you pull away, nearly jumping up and down in excitement.

"I..." his mouth hangs low, "I do not allow you."

You tilt your head, chuckling in confusion.

"If you instructed me to bring you the moon, I would do my best to claim it for you."

You laugh. You laugh because you miss his sincerity, for it is unfamiliar. You laugh because you only know the kindness of your brother, who cherishes you dearly, yet ridicules you in the same breath. This is why you say, "do not mock me, ser. It is not a crime to enjoy picking flowers."

You expect him to reply the way your twin does: 'I did not say it was a crime,' but you are taken aback by the novelty of his response. Erryk says, "the crime lies with whom would mock such a gentle soul."

You are glad he does not wait for you to respond, because you did not know if you had anything to respond with.

Erryk is silent as you eat in the solar. At first, it was because he second guessed his offer to break fast with you, as it felt so obvious that he was overstepping. But then it was because he was enamored by you and the great many tales you share of eating with your family, picking flowers with your siblings, swimming in rivers with your brother. He did not expect such a temperate outpour from you. He tells himself that he must do all he can to preserve it.

He is selfish in wanting to forfeit a horse. He knows soon enough his brother will come to have his shift, and he wants to keep all your stories to himself; walking will make his time with you longer. At the same time, he fears your body might give in if you were to walk very far, so he settles that you ride on horseback and that he lead your horse on foot.

He is glad of his choice, for had he been on horseback with you, he would not have seen the way your face shone at the sight of the meadow upon reaching it. The moment is quickly fleeting however, and he soon jolts to catch you when you nearly leap off the horse.

Erryk helps you down and is soon forgotten as you run off to gather flowers.

He follows after you with no sense of urgency. He allows you to frolic to your hearts content while he slowly leads the horse towards your general direction.

"ERRYK!" you gasp in horror. It is so sudden, he releases his reins and runs towards you.

"My prin-"

"We do not have a basket!" you slap a hand on your forehead, "I am doomed."

He freezes at your words, debating if that is truly the cause of your distress.

"I am doomed to pick flowers only until my hands are full," you sigh and shake your head. You frown at him and point, "but just over there I see a hundred flowers I wish to bring back home with me."

Erryk's forehead curls but then he realizes you were serious. He finds himself chuckling before sighing in relief.

You scowl, "and you mock me again"

He chuckles louder, placing a hand on his breastplate, "I do not mock! I merely find amusement in such an issue so easily solved."

You scoff, "pray, tell how would you solve my issue, ser knows-a-lot?"

Erryk belly laughs. He shakes his head and offers his hand, "I will hold your flowers for you."

Any trace of offense instantly disappears. You perk and step forward, "oh! I have been blind!"

He tries to take the flowers from you but then he's frozen in place as you suddenly begin tucking in his beard.

"Indeed," you snicker, "blind as a bat."

You are both covered in flowers when you return to the Keep, him more than you, for Erryk's skill in securing flowers in people's hair was not nearly as good as yours. Most of what he had put in your brown hair had fallen when you reached the gates. The rest are threatened off by the wind as he helps you down the horse. His on the other hand—

You chuckle, catching a flower that slipped from your head, placing it by Erryk's ear, "they should call you the knight of flowers, ser."

He bows, "I would be honored to be known as such."

"Oh, gods."

You both turn upon hearing the voice.

Gwayne looks at Erryk as though he was stabbed on the side, then turns to you, "you've victimized the poor man."

You roll your eyes.

"-held him captive and tortured him with pretty things," your twin points a finger as he walks towards you, "no wonder you could not be found. You were doing evil things."

You shove your brother, but he dodges.

He makes a face, "laggardly fellow."

You turn to Erryk then point at your brother, "why do you delay? Seize him at once!"

Gwayne gasps, placing a hand on his chest, "behold: the cruel princess."

Your upper lip curls, "the ugly thing insults your lady," you shoot Erryk a look, "apprehend him!"

Erryk watches the two of you bicker, unsure if he should, in fact, apprehend Ser Gwayne.

When he does not, your brother says again, "behold!" the auburn haired man gestures vaguely, "your cruelty inspires no loyalty from you— aw!"

You snatch your his ear and pull him down. You drag your brother all the way to a crate and force him down, "I'll show you cruel."

"Do not think— AW!" Gwayne clutches his cheek when you slap him.

"Silence or your torture will be more severe," you hiss, promptly placing flowers you still had on hand on his head.

Though Gwayne grumbles the whole time, he makes no attempt to save himself from the proclaimed torture. Very truly, he loathed it so when you made a dolly out of him, but after you sobbed so bitterly when he fled you one instance when you were still children, he could never stomach the thought of attempting such a thing again.

And— he catches the way your lips tug upward, you only ever smiled the way you did now when you were torturing him. Still, he cannot help his scowl when you grin at him to behold your work.

You pinch his cheeks, "my lovely twin."

Gwayne groans and swats your hands away, glaring as he stands, "I abhor you, sister."

You giggle and take his arm, "and I do so love deeply, my brother."

"Unhand me," he says flatly.

"You cannot command a princess, you lowly lord," you snuggle into his arm.

Gwayne turns to Erryk, "retrieve your thing."

Erryk opens his mouth, but then catches the look on your face. He is powerless against your pup-like expression. He clears his throat, "my shift has ended, ser. I will notify my brother at once to see what can be done."

Gwayne's jaw drops.

You throw your head back in a laughter.

He scoffs, turning to you, "how uselessly loyal you've made him."

"What is the meaning of this?"

You three turn. You pull away from your brother upon seeing Daemon. He is covered in dirt, and blood, and anger.

He glares at you, "why is it I find you here twice, wife?" He scrutinizes the flowers on Erryk's beard and hair, then quips harshly as he turns to your brother, "should you not be waiting on me?"

"Why do you think I am here?" you mutter, not missing a beat. You walk over to him, and he tries to intimidate you with his expression.

Gwayne and Erryk are ready to act but then Daemon's face falters when you grab your skirt and try to wipe some of the dirt off his face.

The truth, of course, is that you were not waiting on your husband; him finding you here was simply a coincidence, but the genuine concern that clouds your features makes it the lie indistinguishable.

He is so wholly bewildered by your gentle touch, he is unable to react.

You release your skirt and wipe his cheek with your long sleeve, "I shall have a bath drawn for you." You take his hand, "come, I-"

He pulls out of your grasp.

You expect him to lash out on you. He does not.

"I have a council meeting to attend."

A line forms between your brows when catch the blood on his armor, "but you are hurt."

Daemon is stoic. He stares at the lone flower by your ear, "it is not mine."

You release a soft breath and nod. A gust of wind makes you aware of the bud by your temple. You pull the flower out of your hair and stare at it for a moment. You show it to Daemon, who spares but a moment's glance at it. He involuntarily pulls his head back when you place the flower in his hair.

You are unfazed by the look he gives you. You secure the flower then swipe the dirt on his chin, "I will make sure your bath is finished after your meeting."

It is your turn to be taken aback. You freeze when he catches your wrist before you pull away. "Wait for me," he mumbles.

You raise your brows.

He does not repeat himself.

You nod slowly, "I shall... after having the servants dra-"

"Your princess requires you to accomplish a task for her," Daemon looks past you, looking between Erryk and Gwayne. He grits his teeth, pulling you toward him, "do it."

You look over your shoulder, "please inst-"

"They know what to do, wife," Daemon blocks your vision, "tis I your attentions must be fixed upon."

568 notes · View notes

littlerequiem · 4 months ago

Text

we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 1

> Crossposted on AO3

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

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

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

( Next chapter / WMTS' Masterlist )

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

No, what is most striking is the loneliness.

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

Levi is lost.

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

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

No, Levi isn't lost physically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, one day, a new start.

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

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

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

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

A month later, Levi moved into his new home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Falco and Gabi, rowdy kids they are, travel from Liberio to see him. They tell him how Falco is taking flying lessons, how Gabi is part of a youth association that’s going to make Marley a better place.

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

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

All except one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That so?”

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

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

“Hey, you always found me funny.”

“I never laughed.”

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

“Delusional thinking can get you a long way.”

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

“Disgusting. She’s a married woman.”

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

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

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

The second Levi squad, he wants to correct.

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

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

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

“I told you already, didn’t I?”

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

“S’nothing special.”

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

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

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

You are finally coming back to him.

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

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

“I have the new recruit’s file with me. You might have seen him around,” Erwin says as you inspect the wound. "His name is Levi."

In lieu of a response, you give him a nod, not thinking much of this observation. This is probably just trivial small talk.

You should have known better. Erwin Smith isn't known for triviality.

“I’d like for you to keep an eye on him.”

You pause at Erwin's words, eyes shifting away from the stitches. “What do you mean by that, sir?”

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

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

“I know.”

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

Waiting on your answer.

“I’ll... I'll see what I can do, sir,” you finally say.

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

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

“Please.”

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

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

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

A low hum vibrates out of him. “What’s so special about Levi, you ask?” Something lights up across Erwin’s face. The intensity of the pendulum swinging his way. “Why, I believe Levi can alter the fate of humanity.”

Today is the day.

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

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

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

Levi wonders what you will make of it.

He spent the first hours of the day cleaning his house from floor to ceiling—a painful undertaking. The cleaning material stings his bad eye; the positions he has to adopt to clean makes his leg hurt. But cleaning has always helped to ground him, and that much hasn’t changed here.

Luckily, he wasn't alone in his task.

“Yo, Levi! You ready?” Onyankopon calls out. The man came early to help Levi get the house ready, and he's now driving Levi to the train station.

“Yeah.”

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

The drive to the train station is uneventful and quiet. Onyankopon asks him if he is nervous, which Levi denies. He's not nervous, not really. He just needs silence to gather his thoughts.

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

Will you be happy to see him?

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

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

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

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

And yet, you never stopped writing to him. Levi's glad of that.

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

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

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

Levi had just finished hanging a mirror on the wall when she said this; he scowled at the teenager. “No.”

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

“Shut up, nosy kid.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. It’s Levi, right?”

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

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

You give him your full name. “But I actually prefer to be called by my last name, Adler, if you don't mind.” His face stays blank. You sigh. “Listen, Levi, I don’t want to butt into your private affairs... But I just came to tell you this: any injuries you sustain from now on, come to me directly, alright?”

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

"Even so. Don't let that deter you from seeking help; it's important to take care of injuries before they worsen." A pause, one where you weigh each thought carefully. "That said, you also have my word. Those cadets will be punished for what they did to you."

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

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

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

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

As soon as you do, your expression lifts.

That smile.

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

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

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

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

“Your hair has grown,” you say. In the last month, Levi's only kept up his undercut; the top is getting longer now. He knows he should get a haircut, but he's experimenting letting it grow. “It looks good… it suits you.”

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

“Hey, um…”

“Just spit it out, Adler.”

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

Oh.

That certainly isn’t what Levi expected you to ask. No, he expected many things just not... that.

In his stupor, Levi can't think of the right words to say to you, so he manages a nod instead.

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

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

(Relief for what, he doesn't know.)

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

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

His face hardens and he takes a step back, sheltering himself. “C’mon, we’ve been standing here long enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

You take notice.

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

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

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

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

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

“I said it's fine, didn't I?”

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

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

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

But you don’t even seem to pay his temper any mind; you hum and turn to look at the train station’s newsstand instead. From the corner of his eyes, he watches you purchase three lemonade bottles, a hand-out for this summer day.

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

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

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

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

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

“Consider my interest piqued. I can’t wait to see your new life.” You hum. “I’ve never started over. Not like this. I mean, I suppose I did, once. The last time was when I first enlisted for the Survey Corps a decade ago… phew, that brings back memories. I remember the looks I got from everyone then—they all thought me very strange to enroll.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like it felt to witness it the first time.

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

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

The medical check is done in silence.

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

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

These come straight from his childhood.

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

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

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

Levi thinks you might be touched, but he isn’t sure—he was never good at reading your more subdued emotions. Anger, sadness, happiness: those, he can read. Everything in between becomes more complicated.

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

Levi knows. He picked them for a reason.

(He’ll never tell you as much.)

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

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

“You remembered?”

There’s bewilderment in your tone.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hah, I don’t know,” you say softly. You've moved to the windows, your fingers feeling the beige curtains. “You might be underestimating me. I can be very persuasive; I’m sure I’d manage to survive out there.”

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

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

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

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

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

It happens to him, sometimes.

“Seriously, thank you.”

The gentleness in your tone cradles his ears. Levi takes a step back.

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

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

“If you say so.”

Levi turns around, fumbling with the handle of the door.

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

“Oh..." you say, "what's this?”

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

“Scout,” he supplies, eying the kitten currently rubbing her head against his right leg, a loud prrr vibrating against his calve.

“You… you got a cat?”

"Yeah."

"Like a pet?"

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

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

“Her. She's a female cat.”

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

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

“I wasn’t laughing!”

“You were about to.”

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

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

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

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

With a combination of grace and suspicion that only cats are really able to muster, Scout sniffs your fingers, her slit pupils observing your every movement. Whatever she was looking for must have pleased her, because not a moment later, she lets out a high-pitched mewling sound and rubs her cheeks against your digit.

A smile forms on your lips.

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

"I don't know."

"You didn't ask?"

"I don't speak cat, Adler."

"She didn't have an owner?"

"No, she was alone when I found her."

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

“Your bitter old tea, huh?”

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

Shit.

Your eyes lock with his.

And your smile widens. “Not at all. This feels like being home.”

Levi clears his throat, turning away. Home. Is it really like that?

No, of course, it’s not.

Home doesn’t exist anymore.

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

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

( Next chapter / Join my taglist )

618 notes · View notes

felassan · 5 months ago

Text

Compilation of snippets from the DA:TV acting talent panel at SDCC (Dragon Age: Meet the Heroic Companions of Thedas) today (July 26th). DA:TV spoilers under cut.

Huge props and tysm to the users who live-tweeted and clipped this panel, you are heroes 🙏💜!!

The panel was moderated. In attendance were John Epler, creative performance director Ashley Barlow, and the actors of Lucanis, Neve, Emmrich, and Harding - Zach Mendez, Jessica Clark, Nick Boraine, and Ali Hillis respectively.

The panel ended with a Q&A session.

(BioWare have stated that a recording of the panel will be made available at a later date.)

Edit/update: I've now been through this post and tidied it up :)

---

Here are some pictures from the panel [source]

Here are some more pictures from the panel [source]

In this Twitter thread there are also some video clips of parts of the panel [source]

BioWare tried to avoid spoilers in the panel [source]

Key points/summary of DA:TV: hunting Solas, found family companions, stop the elven gods [source]

When auditioning the companions, BW were specifically looking for character chemistry [source]

BW used motion capture for the game [source]. Mo-cap was mentioned a lot in the panel [source]

Lucanis sees assassination as a job. His mind is as dangerous as his knives and he is also "kinda hilarious" [source]

There was mention of other Crows [source]

Zach Mendez read Tevinter Nights like three times [source]

A clip of the actors doing mo-cap was shown [source]. Photos of Zach mo-capping for other characters was shown [source]

BioWare said that Zach brought a certain darkness to Lucanis [source]

Zach is excited for the romance and is looking forward to the stats [source]

Zach mentioned that he used his own relationship with his brother in his portrayal of Lucanis [source] (surely this means ILLARIO.. ?👀)

Zach played a lot of darkspawn originally while auditioning [source]

Ali Hillis really welcomed Zach into the DA family [source]

Neve is from Minrathous. She has fun banter and is a cynical detective with a heart of gold. They want to show a rebellious side of Tevinter [source]

Jessica Clark loves Neve's loyalty, dedication, and different vision of Tevinter

Neve is fighting for the people [source]. Jessica: "She is really really fighting for those people, and she loves those people. So, yes, she's cynical, and yes she's kind of tough and brusque and all these other things, but when they say there's a heart of gold, there really, like, to have that kind of a passion and dedicate your life to something like that, I think that's definitely my favorite part about her" [source]

Jessica loves how much Neve loves Docktown and its people [source]

Neve sees a different vision for Tevinter than what has previously been depicted in the series [source]

The actors were separate from one another while recording lines but still bonded really well and organically [source]

There are several Veilguard gc [source] (groupchats?)

Ali is an angel and very supportive of the new cast [source]

Emmrich is a "stone cold silver fox" (this is a quote from the panel moderator) [source]

BioWare knew the reaction they would get about Emmrich from the fandom [source]

Nick Boraine feels like he's been preparing for Emmrich all his life. He's obsessed with death (as a comfort and not scary) and enabling people to transition into death. He is attracted to this aspect of the character [source]

"You're gonna need a dictionary for Emmrich" for all the magic spells [source]

"Interesting how this character caught fire compared to the other sexy characters" [source] (I think this was said wrt Emmrich?)

BW had a great time recording with Nick, he is a very consistent actor [source]

Nick and Matt Mercer have never met [source]

Manfred plays off of Emmrich. "I set the tone" [source]

What has Harding been doing in-between DA:I and DA:TV? She's been working closely with Varric and the Inquisition remnants. She and Neve already met in the comics [source]

Ali vividly remembers the beginning of voicing Harding, she says it's brilliant writing. She really thought of Harding's personality and traits. She's so happy to be back [source]

wrt the Covid-19 pandemic and the year 2020, BW had to pivot with working remotely and were able to push through their projects. [source]

"[Harding] chasing Solas for a decade..." "that was a great relationship that [you] developed... and now I'll stop talking now". Ali was excited [source]

John Epler talked about how companions may but heads, and won't be predictable [source]

There are thousands and thousands of lines and so many characters to meet [source]

Zach "unfortunately has been around the DA Reddit before recording as Lucanis" [source]. He feels inspired by all the fans and cannot wait for us to play it [source]

[new textblock due to character limit!]

John Epler on Emmrich: "I mean honestly, I will say, like, we expected a great reaction to Emmrich. Went beyond what we expected for sure. But it’s been fascinating to see, because again, Emmrich is this character, he’s more of the professorial, more, he brings a wisdom and kind of a calmness to the group, so even when things are at their worst, there’s that one person in the group who is kinda like, ‘okay, y’know, we've got, let's figure it out, let’s take a deep breath’. And just his journey through his character arc, and his interactions with the others, it’s been fantastic to see. Even just finding opportunities for him to bounce off the other characters, you know, the way he talks to Bellara, the way he talks to Neve, it’s all so different, but it’s also just, again, based around this core of this warm, kind-hearted, professorial necromancer. Which, again, is not something you see a lot of in media. I mean, usually, necromancers are depicted in a very specific way. But it’s been, it's awesome to see how Emmrich has grown and just, really one of the most, one of my favorite experiences has been just working with Emmrich’s writer, working with Emmrich as a character." [source]

All the actors are excited about the dialogue and narrative, and for us to explore DA:TV [source]

Ali says that we will really find ourselves in this game [source]

During the recording process, the actors all hear the previous person's recording and react or respond to it [source]

Due to Covid-related lockdown, a lot of recording was done over Zoom, and the writers besides Ashley Barlow (creative performance director) would jump in on the call to talk about the previous person’s lines [source]

A question was asked about the background factions. "Characters not causes". [source]

You can work with the Grey Wardens in the game (for example) [source]

The actors all met this weekend. They are an "un-chosen" family [source]

Zach stood in for multiple characters for mo-cap, for example he was Assan [source]

Lucanis has a heart but is stubborn and stuck in his ways. Zach is excited for fans to help his character open up as the story progresses [source]

Jessica is incredibly honored to join the DA universe. She is new to voice acting for video games. “This is play pretend. Playing Neve allowed her to step into her power.” [source]

A question was asked on what their first exposure to fantasy was, and do they implement this into the acting? John talked about Lord of the Rings and how every media you experience will seep out into your work [source]

Ashley didn't want the dialogue to sound modern [source]

Zach loves Theseus and talked about the symbolism in DA [source]

Jessica loves Greek mythology and lore [source]

Nick talked about The Hobbit and how he would dress up in big boots and a cape when his mother would read to him [source]

Ali recently went to Greece and felt like she saw DA everywhere [source]

A question was asked - "From your companion's perspective, which previous companion would you romance?" Zach kind of has a thing for The Iron Bull, saying "oh that awakened something inside of me". He also likes Dorian. Jessica was too overwhelmed to answer. Nick was also overwhelmed by the question, but thinks Solas is sexy [source] [source]

Ali fangirled over Lucanis and Emmrich [source], prefers Emmrich [source]

A question was asked - "Is DA:TV and DA:I streamlined together?" [paraphrased]. Answer: DA games are not as streamlined as Mass Effect and act almost as standalones [source]

The cast were asked about which aspect of their character is their favorite. Ali loves the little quirks about Harding. "Lucanis is a good cook!?" ** Neve is very dry and pretty closed off about it. For Emmrich, it's the "exploration of the idea of death and necromancy" [source] (** FINALLY CITATION for this? :D)

A question was asked: "How do you decide to introduce the lore in each game?" BioWare answered that it depends as they build each game. They always know the base lore, and see opportunities through game mechanics and characters. They try not to infodump [source]

A question was asked: "Any favorite party banter?" Ashley Barlow said to listen for "hand to bone combat" [source]

The game takes place approximately 10 years after the end of DA:I. You start the game hunting for Solas. The game is built on some core principles: be who you want to be in a world worth saving and with characters that matter. The companions are always at the heart of DA and they are at the heart of this game too. [source]

The moderator asked John Epler about what is bringing this party of people ("this rogues' gallery") together. John: "I mean, it's the end of the world, and each character that you bring into your party understands that the world is ending, that they need to stop that, and you're really building, what I would say is, more of a found family. These are characters who may not start off liking each other, may not even start off liking you, but over time they grow to understand the importance of what they're doing and just, how critical it is to stop the elven gods" [source]

"He is kind and has some spectacular lines. He is a natural nerdy scientist. He loves learning." [source] (Emmrich? ^^)

Ali didn't realize that Harding was such a beloved character. She thanked fans for bringing this character back [source]

Ali is super excited that the game is releasing. She said that there has been an evolution to Harding's character and that she's been chasing Solas for like a decade at this point [source]

Jessica loves the writing in the game [source]

Nick loves its narrative [source]

Ali said that this game is going to take you into a world that will blow your minds [source]

On Manfred: Nick was asked what it was like having another character to bounce off of. He said "Oh man! I mean, that is such a hard question, because Matt and I have never met, and we worked completely separately, and, I, I mean I know that the rapport is really great, but it's in the ether, I mean it is just, the magic that these guys create, telling us how to respond, how to do that, but it's, I can't wait to meet Matt" [source]

BW still said that the game's release window is Fall 2024 [source]. Nothing more specific was given [source]

There are also more snippets here in this Tumblr post, go check it out!

[source, two]

551 notes · View notes

scuderiasundays · 8 months ago

Text

free ride

summary: friction, spontaneous gifts, and revelations on a ride home + a little insta au at the end 💌

words: 673

a/n: a short blurb! haven't written in months but may post sporadically. tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, and @silverstonesainz just because. any and all feedback much appreciated as always! hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

“You can be so clingy sometimes.” Lando let out a sigh, one that was tinged with deep disapproval. He continued to hastily shove his belongings into the duffel bag you had gifted him mere weeks ago. Standing in the hallway, your mind couldn’t help but play back the memory of a happier time.

“You’ve gotten me a gift and it’s not even my birthday. If this is a taste of what a lifetime with you looks like, sign me up!”

Lando twirled with the sleek leather bag over his shoulder. Qatar Airways had lost his prized duffel (another “perk” of being a frequent flyer). While you were well aware he could easily afford a replacement, the sheer thought of giving back to him put a smile on your face.

“Check the luggage tag,” you said. He turned it over in his hand, revealing the number one engraved in gold.

“You do realize my driver number is four, right? Or was this meant for Max?“ He said, his lips turning upwards in a cheeky grin.

“Shut up, I just wanted you to show you how much I believe in you—my future world champion.”

“How did I get so lucky?” He pulled you close, cupping your face with both hands before planting a kiss on your forehead.

You shook yourself out of it as the front door slammed, realizing your vision start to blur. With 24 races on the calendar and work keeping you in London, it wasn't a total shock that things had gone south. Yet as you tried to make sense of it all, you couldn't decipher if it was Lando speaking or just the exhaustion from a 13-hour flight getting to him. All you did was ask if he wanted to join you for dinner with friends tonight, and he’d deemed you “clingy.”

You heard your phone buzz on the kitchen island as you grabbed the keys. It was Ashley calling. He’d call you on occasion when Lando asked him to but it surprised you nonetheless. He sounded worried as he explained that Lando wasn't feeling well at the MTC and needed someone to pick him up. Feeling a sense of urgency, you quickly shifted gears, realizing that you’d have to take a rain check on tonight’s plans.

Lando looked pale and small as he climbed into the passenger’s side of your car. You tried to help him in but he swatted your hands away, a lingering reminder of the tension between you. You turned up the radio to drown out the deafening silence when you suddenly heard his voice.

“I’m sorry about this morning.” You could just make out his eyes shifting from the window to you in your peripheral vision. To be perfectly honest, you hadn’t expected an apology out of him so soon.

“I never meant to tell you this but the thought of you walking away from me and us…Well, just thinking about it makes me queasy. I was on the sim and I realized I’d hurt you and my mind started spiraling and-”

You pulled the car over to the side of the road as his breathing shallowed.

“Hey, everything’s going to be fine.” You wiped the tears from his face and placed your hand on his thigh. It took a few minutes but you saw the color gradually return to his face.

“Anywhere you want to go? It’s rare you let me drive so I’m taking it all in.”

“Up to you. I’m just here for the free ride.” He giggled.

“Free, huh? Well, this girl charges in secrets. So, where’s Carlos headed next season?”

Lando ran his hands through his curls, a nervous tick of his.

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

He flashed a devilish grin, his eyes twinkling in the evening glow. As much as you despised the complications that came with all the time zones and miles apart, there was no doubt you'd find your way back to each other at the end of each day.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 41,414 others

yourusername: i cry a lot but i am so productive! it's! an! art!

fan1: love that she's a swiftie but is lando the reason behind all her crying 🤨

fan2: if so, it's on sight!!!

landonorris: begging you to clear my name and confirm i am, in fact, the world's best boyfriend

yourusername: i love you but what did we say about a growth mindset?

carlossainz55: humble him, reina 🤭

yourbestfriend: love the fact that pimm fits perfectly in your 🚲 basket

pietra.pilao: soooo much love for you ❤️

#lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris edit #lando norris #f1 x you #lando norris fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 instagram au #lando norris one shot #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris angst

501 notes · View notes

adimouze · 28 days ago

Text

post-las vegas WDC max/daniel, rated M. ~1300 words. @girlsdads mentioned something about a lil bit of LL hating in a fic so. I did a lil bit of LL hating too.

A face floats into Max’s field of vision probably three hours into the fifth different party Max had been shepherded to since the race ended. He’s about ninety-percent sure he’s still in Las Vegas. He blinks blearily at it, hoping at least it’s pretty enough to look at. It has been a while since. Since.

Liam Lawson blinks back. Not who he was expecting. Gross.

“Max,” he says, sounding too sober for whatever time it is. The club is loud but Max can still unfortunately hear him. “Are you okay?”

Max attempts a sweeping gesture, he’s carrying a glass of something and it hits someone’s back, making Max drop it with a smash. Liam cringes, looking like he’s about to complain. “This is my party, mate,” Max says, cutting off whatever Liam was going to say. “I’m fucking great.”

“Christian just left,” Liam says, and Max kind of hates how he talks but what can you do. Maybe he just doesn’t like Liam. “I think there’s another party happening a few blocks from now, do you want to join me?”

If Christian left that means Max can leave without theoretically offending anybody, even though it is his party. Half of the people around him don’t seem like people he knows anyway. “Nah man, you go on ahead, I’ll head back to the hotel –”

“Oh then I’ll head back with you,” Liam’s probably the most cheerful he’s been since Max met him. “Yuki scored and left me here.”

Pity isn’t something Max feels often, but he does feel a bit of pity now. In his first year he was never left alone in clubs, either Carlos or Daniel were always there making sure they were around to get him back to wherever before they took someone home or to their hotel rooms. More often it was Daniel, and more often Daniel didn’t take anyone home, because they were sharing a room and more often it was just fun to watch onboards together, side by side.

No one else but them.

Then again, Max was a teenager in his first year and Liam’s twenty-two. He wouldn’t need babysitting.

“Alright,” Max isn’t sure where he is. He doesn’t know how to ask Liam without sounding like an absolute idiot.

“I have a car waiting,” Liam adds, after Max stared off into the distance for a few seconds, willing someone to appear with a car. Maybe Max isn’t being as subtle as he thought he was.

_____

Red Bull and VCARB drivers are often put up in the same hotel, usually the standard room but Helmut had finangled him a penthouse upgrade on Thursday, telling Max that he deserved a proper room to party in, like Max was going to bring home an orgy.

He’s pretty sure Liam couldn’t possibly have gotten a penthouse upgrade too. He’s sure hotels only have one penthouse? He’s sure. If he was less drunk he would be surer. But Liam makes no move to push any buttons.

“Mind if I come up for a nightcap?” Liam asks, smiling. This is the most Max has seen him smile ever since he got Daniel…ever since Daniel left and he jumped in the car. Max does not want him to come up for a nightcap but Max is feeling generous tonight.

“Sure, why not.” Someone had spilled what seems like a bottle of champagne on him at some point in the night and his shirt is sticking to him. He’s too tired to shower. Meh. It’ll be a problem for hungover Max tomorrow.

The lift goes up insanely fast but still feels too slow for Max tonight. He’s WDC, four times WDC, he’s used to faster things, sue him. Liam is still staring at him.

“Good driving tonight,” Max says, for want of anything better to do or say. He has no idea where Liam finished to be honest.

“I finished 16,” Liam says flatly. Yikes. Well.

The door dings open onto Max’s floor. And.

Daniel’s sitting on the giant sectional of the penthouse living room.

He looks gorgeous. Max wants to stare forever. He looks broad and good and tanned, his beard has filled in a lot more than when Max last saw him in Monaco, his hair thicker. The sweatshirt he’s wearing looks less oversized than usual, fitting his shoulders instead of drooping over them, and his trousers make his thighs look great.

He’s smirking. He looks like a frat guy. He looks like one of those men from Victoria’s magazines that Max definitely didn’t jerk off over.

Max is probably drooling, and Liam runs into him as he’s stepping out of the lift.

“Oh sorry mate I – Daniel, hello.” Liam’s voice is a bit high. Confused. Probably scared. “Didn’t realize you were in Vegas. Red Bull didn’t…”

Daniel stands up and comes over. Max is still staring. Daniel moves like an apex predator and Liam’s just the runt of litter in this. “Hey Liam. Well. Red Bull doesn’t own me anymore mate, do they? I can be wherever I want.”

He claps Liam on the shoulder in greeting then grabs Max’s limp hand. “Came to see my boy be the World Champion again.”

Liam’s probably saying something but Max doesn’t care, because Daniel’s pulling him in, arms going around Max, sticky shirt and all, and Max is going to swoon because Daniel smells good, good, good, their lips meeting after ages, Daniel’s lips and tongue the best, most refreshing thing Max has tasted all night. Someone’s moaning.

It’s him.

“Um…”

Liam’s still there.

Max tries to pull back but Daniel’s got his hands on his ass, lifting, lifting, and Max’s legs going around him in response, and Daniel’s got them on the sofa in a second, Max perched on Daniel’s wide wide thighs without even separating their lips once. It’s the hottest thing Max has ever felt. He’s going to come just from the thought alone.

“Liam,” Daniel’s saying, pulling back a few centimeters to give Max some breathing space. “I’m going to fuck my husband on this sofa right now, and he’s going to be screaming loud enough to be heard from the moon. So like,” he pops the k, and Max’s dick twitches, precome dripping into his underwear, “unless you want a front row seat to that for some reason, shouldn’t you be heading to bed?”

“Husband?” Liam’s stuttering. “Excuse me? You can’t – Does Christian know? He’s going to be so mad at you, Max what the fuck –?”

“Get out,” Daniel says. Max has never heard him sound like that. “Now.”

“I’m calling Christian,” Liam says as a parting shot. “He won’t – he’s not going to allow this.”

“Yeah you do that, mate,” Daniel rolls his eyes then squeezes Max’s ass harder. God, he’s so hot. Max feels insane. Husband husband husband. “What’s he going to do, fire me again?”

The lift dings shut again. They’re blessedly alone.

“Husband?” Max snorts, shivering as Daniel’s fingers undo his pant buttons. “Bit presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”

“The ring’s in the suitcase, baby,” Daniel says, smiling like a wolf, fingers curling around Max’s dick. Max grinds into the feeling, needing Daniel inside him right now. This is the best day of his life. “Was hoping you’d say yes.”

“Let me think about it,” Max laughs, and Daniel bites his nipple through his shirt. “Liam’s probably told the Herald by now.”

“I’ll personally send him the wedding photos,” Daniel cackles, licking up Max’s neck, leaving wet trails in the cold air con of the room, “if he promises to send me photos of Christian when he tells him I was about to fuck him in front of you.”

“Stop talking about Christian and fuck the World Champion already, husband,” Max says, his laughter turning into moans when Daniel all too willingly complies.

#max verstappen #maxiel #f1 #daniel ricciardo #dr3 #my fic

205 notes · View notes

quarterlifekitty · 23 days ago

Text

Another installation of the MonsterHunter!AU

Context: a baku is a demon/yokai that eats bad dreams. It has a lot of depictions, often in modern times its design is loosely based on the Malayan tapir. So I picture reader as being a tapir girl, with the cute ears, and some teeny tusks. And that really cute mottling that baby tapirs have bc it’s my post and I do what I want. But she can look however you like, really.

While Price often takes killing bounties, Ghost is a bit less picky. He doesn’t mind capturing monsters alive and delivering them to the highest bidder.

Lately, there’s been a trend amount the local nobles. Get a baku, and it will eat your child’s bad dreams, they say. So demand is high. These people don’t know that a baku can also eat your hopes and ambitions if it isn’t well fed on nightmares, but Ghost doesn’t really care to inform them.

It was supposed to be a quick and easy job— be back before dinner. But things often don’t go to plan in this line of work. If you can manage to find a baku, capture is easy. They don’t have a means of really defending themselves, and they’re docile by nature. Ghost doesn’t realize how attractive such a thing is to other bounty hunters.

He doesn’t even tie your hands when he finds you. Baku are not stupid. You know he’s faster and stronger than you are. The rival bounty hunters throwing a weighted net over you don’t realize this.

He spends half the day taking them down one by one as you’re dragged behind them in the forest. Not enough time to travel back to the guild, he has to camp out. Ghost uses his knife to cut you loose. Out of precaution, he draws his symbol on your back with a prick of his blood so you’ll be bound to his vicinity. But he doesn’t see the sense in keeping you cramped in the net.

He manages to forget what you are when he gets to sleep. You amble to his side when he starts to thrash with the visions of dead heaped up across the landscape. You sigh, gently planting a hand on his chest and coaxing the vapor of his dreams from him.

It’s the best you’ve had. So addicting you follow the plume straight to his mouth, kissing him through the cloth of his mask. It tastes of glistening red, of a brittle splintering husk, like ichor pouring from the wound of a god.

Simon startles when he awakes and sees the position of the sun in the sky. Much later than he’s risen in years. And he slept through the night, entirely uninterrupted, which is completely unheard of.

And he feels like a fucking new man. The light of the sun doesn’t feel like punishment against his skin, piercing beneath the thin membrane of his eyelids. He feels light. Packs up camp, nearly overflowing with energy,

You smile at him, flicking your little tapir ears. You look good, too. Healthy, shining hair and bright eyes. Strangely pretty, for a dream demon. You follow him closely without much provocation when he decides it’s time to get going.

He thinks about forgoing the bounty. His sigil fades from your back, falling in rusted flakes from the large white patch of your two-toned fur. He’ll get something more permanent for you when you’re back at the guild. He’s certain he has enough nightmares to keep you fed for the rest of his life.

#writing #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #baku!reader #monster hunter au

164 notes · View notes

lurkingshan · 12 days ago

Text

Random QL Superlatives: 2024 Edition

My friends! It is time once again to reflect back on the year and give out some random ass awards to the things that gave me joy in the many QLs I watched.

In no particular order, this year’s winners:

Best Long Term Glow Up: Off Jumpol as Jane in The Trainee

I've been simping for Jumpol since the Puppy Honey days, because I know potential when I see it! This year the rest of y'all finally caught up with me and realized this man is aging like a fine wine. We all won!

Most Valuable Prop: Aoyanagi Hajime Standee, I Became the Main Role of a BL Drama

Will anything ever make me laugh as hard as Akafuji opening the door to Aoyanagi Hajime while holding an Aoyanagi Hajime standee and then running for his life, standee tucked under his arm, to escape the mortification? If so, it's def another joke from this show.

Best Heart Destroying Angst: Every Moment of Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo

Sometimes you just want a show to break your heart into a million tiny pieces and then stitch it back together, and there is no better version of that experience this year than this beautiful show.

Wackiest Premise That Somehow Works: Caged Again

Whomst could have predicted that a BL about a penguin who turns into a human, goes to high school, and falls in love with a panther would be one of the sweetest, most compelling stories of the year.

Most Precious Bean: Taishin, Takara's Treasure

Just look at his cute little face!! My son has never done anything wrong in his life. He's adorable and I won't hear a word against him.

Drama Child of the Year: Young San, Century of Love

My soul fully tried to leave my body every time this child appeared on screen. I must congratulate this child actor--his name is Chayanan Akkharadumrongdet--on perfectly embodying the spirit of an old man trapped in a tiny body. Give this boy an award!

Best Love Theme: Di Inakala by Paul Pablo, Marahuyo Project

youtube

Such a gorgeous song, first used while King reads Ino's letter and realizes Ino has feelings for him. Hits me right in the chest every time I hear it.

Best Sex Scene - Almond and Latte's first time, Knock Knock Boys

Everyone else can throw in the towel, this is the best depiction of a loving but awkward first time that will ever be committed to film.

Star of My Vision Board: Yako, She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat

Oprah said it best: “She is the mother I never had, she is the sister everybody would want. She is the friend that everybody deserves. I don't know a better person.”

Outstanding Achievement in Old Man Yaoi: Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

It's not every day that a show manages to sell you on a 20+ year age gap, but this one did it without breaking a sweat and had us all rooting for Ishida to eat that old man up with a spoon.

Best Sight Gag: Rock Lifting Karan Over His Shoulder, Cherry Magic Thailand

Is it the way Rock bends down and grabs him with no warning? The way Karan still does a polite wai over his shoulder? The way Dujdao scurries after them? Idk but it's been 10 months and I am still laughing.

Best Absolute Mindfuck: Love for Love's Sake

Sometimes a scene from this drama will flash through my mind and I'll have to spend a few minutes just staring at the wall, and that's how you know it was damn good.

Most Brainrot Inducing: Unknown

The way this story had a chokehold on my brain for three entire months was no joke.

Swooniest Love Interest: Mahasamut, Love Sea

Just look at this glorious man! And on top of all that visual splendor, he's kind and generous and brave and smart and competent and high key a smart ass. In this house we love Mahasamut!

Best Classic Watch: The Miracle of Teddy Bear

The most delightfully surprising watch of the year for me, and a great reminder to never, ever trust anything MDL commenters say about a show.

Y'all know the drill: feel free to join in and post your own superlatives, and please tag me if you do!

#bl superlatives 2024 #the trainee #i became the main role of a bl drama #let free the curse of taekwondo #caged again the series #century of love #knock knock boys #cherry magic th #love for love's sake #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #love sea the series #unknown the series #mr mitsuyas planned feeding #the miracle of teddy bear #takara no vidro #marahuyo project #shan shouts into the void

174 notes · View notes

bloodibambiidoll · 28 days ago

Note

What if someone who had a massive crush on rafe started dressing and acting like weird girl reader in an attempt to get his attention

I think she wouldn’t live to see another day !! Just kidding… but it wouldn’t be good for her… Possessiveness, talks of weird!girl getting bullied in the past, use of a butterfly knife (no breaking skin), Barry banter, weird!girl gets just a lil crazy here, she’s at her limit what can I say !! 18+MNDI!!

You don’t who the fuck this bitch thinks she is, who she thinks you are but she is about to get a reality check real quick. You’ve been watching it slowly progress. First you saw her at one of Topper’s parties wearing fuzzy demonias and a frilly mini dress and it just got worse from there. This girl whose name you haven’t thought of in years, Brittany. She treated you like shit all through school and she spent that same amount of time begging for Rafe’s attention. Which he never gave to her. And now? She’s dressing like you and posting pictures on her Instagram story of her in the middle of the woods. You even saw she had a sonny angel on the back of her phone in one of her selfies. Just like you. She’s been showing up at parties more and she’s somehow always at the country club when you and Rafe are. She’s never caught him alone though. Not until now.

You decided to stay home tonight, Rafe was going to a party with Barry and a few of their other dealer friends and you were tired. But when you got a text from Barry that you needed to come rescue your man because some girl wouldn’t leave him alone no matter how many times he turned her down? You knew who he meant and you were out of bed putting on a quick beat and a cute little outfit immediately. You called an uber and were there in less than an hour.

When you rolled up there was music blaring and lights flashing from inside so you pushed your way through the sweaty, weed and beer smelling living room while scanning for your man in every corner. It didn’t take you long to find him. He’s sitting out on the back porch on a bench, counting money on the small table in front of him, surrounded by his guys, and fucking Brittney. Barry is in between her and Rafe but she might as well be in his fucking lap from the way she’s leaning over him to fawn over your fiancé. She’s wearing a little lace corset top and a black mini skirt which wouldn’t be that abnormal for a basic kook bitch like her but she’s wearing the same platform boots you had on last week, a studded choker, and a chunky belt to match. It makes you see red immediately.

You stomp out the back door and across the patio with tunnel vision. Your white platform Mary Jane’s clank against the ground and your little pink mini skirt swishes with every step. You walk right over to Rafe and plop down in his lap, interrupting his money counting.

“Hey, baby.” You throw your arms around his neck and smile at him sweetly, which he returns.

“Hey princess. Thought you weren’t coming. Just gimme a second to finish this up and I’m all yours, Kay?” Rafe kisses your cheek all sloppy before going back to business. Which you don’t mind because you have some business of your own to take care of. You turn sideways in his lap to see Brittany glaring over at you with her mouth agape, like she’s shocked to see you sitting in your man’s lap.

“Oh, hey, Brit! Fancy seeing you here! I didn’t know you were seeing Barry!” You smile at her sickly sweet, gesturing to the way she was splayed across his thighs. “And I love the outfit, didn’t know dressing like a weird little fucking freak was in now!!” You giggle as you throw her words that she’s spewed to you a thousand times back in her face.

“What? I’m not seeing him. What are you talking about?” She scoffs and rolls her eyes, throwing her thin mousy brown hair over her shoulder. “And this? This is what everyone is wearing now. Do you live under a rock?”

“No, I don’t. I live in my fiancés big, nice house were he fucks me so good everyday.” Her blue eyes that she sloppily applied a large eyeliner wing to blow wide as her hand flies to her chest like you just hit her. It just makes you smirk as you lean across Barry’s lap so you can get in her face.

“Well, we will see how long it takes him to get bored of you. He is Rafe Cameron after all, you never know when someone shiny and new is gonna come around.” She says it quiet enough that you don’t think in his state of focus Rafe hears her but Barry suddenly looks very scared for her. And he should. You peer over your shoulder to make sure no one is looking your way and pull the butterfly knife tucked in your garter from its place all in one move. You stare into her eyes as you flick it open, finally putting those tricks you spent hours in your room teaching yourself to good use. You lace your finger into the loop of her cheap, wannabe choker and pull her face close to yours, holding the blade to her throat.

“Shiny and new?” You chuckle darkly. “Honey, you’re so fucking ran through Rafe is probably the only man on this island that hasn’t touched you. And he never will. So ditch the act. Go back to your lulu lemon’s and stay the fuck away from my man. Before I make you.” Your voice is calm and collected but the smile on your face and the underlying tone of it, mixed with the knife you have to her throat has her shaking with fear.

“You’re fucking crazy.” She gasps and tries to pull away but you only pull her closer, not enough to cut her, but enough to threaten it. You lean in so your lips brush her ear, letting out a manic giggle.

“You don’t even know the half of it. Stay away from him. Or you’re fucked.” You give her a condescending sticky lip gloss kiss on the cheek before pulling back and flicking your knife shut. She gasps and grabs her throat like you actually slit it and it sends you into a fit of laughter as she runs off with tears streaming down her face.

“Damn girl, I didn’t know you played like that.” Barry chuckles and he looks over at you with a proud smile.

“Yo, are you flirting with my girl again?” You look over your shoulder to see Rafe tucking a wad of cash into his pocket before you feel his arm lace around your waist so he can pull you against his chest.

“Nah, I mean, maybe a little bit.” Barry sends you a smirk and a wink that has Rafe groaning into the crook of your neck. “But don’t tell me you didn’t hear alla that…”

“Oh, no, I heard it.” You feel Rafe’s lips curve into a smile on your neck. “You feelin’ a little territorial bats?”

“Oh, absolutely. Not just over you, but over being the island's resident weird girl. You don’t get to jump on the train after shitting on it.” Your face sets into a glare that sends Barry and Rafe both into a fit of laughter. “Hey! Fuck you guys! That bitch made my life a living hell, she had it coming to her!”

“Yeah? You don’t think holding a knife to her throat was a little excessive?” Rafe squeezes your sides and you try to push off of him but he just pulls you closer.

“Honestly, country club is right. It probably would’ve been less crazy if you just hit her ass.” Barry rubs his fingers over his chin, the smirk on his lips causing the grill on his teeth to glint in the low light.

“That’s rich coming from you two!!” You scoff out a laugh that has them both laughing along with you.

“But honestly though? That was so fuckin’ hot, baby. Lemme take you home and show you who I belong to, yeah?” Rafe runs his nose along your throat before placing a few kisses there that have you throwing your head back against his chest with a sigh.

“Aye, unless you’re gonna let me in on it, I suggest you get a fuckin’ room.” Rafe sends Barry a glare that he returns with a smug smile. “What? Just sayin’.”

“Bro. It’s never gonna happen. Stop trying.” Rafe leans over you to shove Barry’s shoulder playfully before scooping you up carrying your ass out of there so he can take you home and fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.

Tagging some mooties: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @starkeysprincess @cameronsprincess @rafeinterlude @nemesyaaa @bunnies-p1tst0p @eddiesxangel

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

Divider by @anitalenia

#weird!girl reader #weird!girl #Dolly writes #rafe Cameron #rafe blurb #Rafe thoughts #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe concepts #rafe cameron fanfiction #outerbanks rafe #tw knife

255 notes · View notes

bamfaholic · 4 months ago

Text

From Eden to Sit at Your Door

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Kurt x Reader | 2.8k words

Summary: Kurt visits home, Munich, and decides to sit across from you. With your limited vision, it takes time for you to catch on to who this man really is. Not that you're given much time at all before your life is in danger.

Summary:

You take another sip, nearly emptying your cup. “I’m sure you’re a wildcard yourself.” You offer him your name, finishing your tea. “What brings you back to Munich?”

He begins to raise his hand, perhaps offering a handshake, before quickly pulling away. He clears his throat, “Kurt Wagner, and homesickness, really. It has been years since I’ve been home.”

You offer him a sweet smile. “Welcome home, Kurt.”

Alternate summary: Kurt is on a mission, accidentally causes hijinks, and catches feelings for the reader. Even more hijinks ensue.

A/N: this originally was going to be a bullet hc of a blind!reader x Kurt and now it's a multi-part fic lol. The reader will probably turn into an oc but the cringe cop has me in cuffs

This fic has been posted to my AO3 as well! Support me and find my other works there!

On an Autmn morning, you lounged at your local café, just mere blocks from your flat. The wind nipped at the tips of your ears, rustling stray hairs free. You remained warm, though, with your wool coat and cup of peppermint tea in your palms. The harsh difference of the chilling wind and familiar warmth was a part of this routine you cherished. Slowly raising the cup to your lips, a sip warmed you from the inside out.

The workers knew you, knew your name, your story. Practically blind from birth, you couldn’t recall a time when you didn’t have a thick dark vignette frame your vision. Your eyes were often compared to translucent glass marbles, commonly in distaste. Every now and then you were even accused of being a mutant. You always replied with a scoff, wondering if simple biology had been thrown out the window ever since the Mutant Panic in the 70’s.

Though, it piqued your interest in university. You began to dig to see if mutants were similar, or even no different, than those disabled. Unfortunately, the hoops to jump through to acquire a degree with accommodations surmounted and you had to drop out. Your classmate and friend, however, still often visited to read to you scientific papers, and assisted you in writing a thesis in their free time. For now, you resorted to being an author, as you needed to express your ideas with the world.

Which is why you people watched. Each morning you had your cup of tea and watched the quick blurs and bursts of color, sometimes squinting to really focus on a detail. You listened to their words, their stories. It was all ample ammo for your works. You had fallen so lost in concentration, you failed to notice the man sit down at your table. You took a few more sips, savoring the flavors melting over your tongue. There was a flick of a distinct blue, such an unnatural color, that caught your eye.

“Ah, excuse me.” His German was natural, native, and yet there were inklings of an American influence. “I hope you don’t mind me sitting here.”

You turned your body to face him, setting your cup down on the coaster. “No, not at all.” You softly smiled. “It’s not often I have company.”

While odd in nature to encroach a stranger’s space, it didn’t bother you. You figured all the other seats were taken; it was a busy morning after all. If he was not to disturb your peace, then you would pay it no mind.

You scanned him up and down. From what you could tell, he was wearing a coat with a hood, and something a deep rich blue beneath. Lots of blue. He must really enjoy the color. Gears began to turn in your head, perhaps he could be a fountain of inspiration.

“Your eyes,” He began softly, appearing to nibble on a pastry, “I don’t think I’ve seen a color like that before.” His voice was bursting with excitement and curiosity.

You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek. Here we go... You were prepared to recite the speech you’ve given your entire life but decide to keep it short and sweet. “It’s glaucoma, my eyes shouldn’t look like this.”

“Ah, I see.” Another bite. “I apologize, I have never heard of such a condition before.”

You glance down, tracing the lip of your teacup with your fingertip. “Are you American? I hear it in your voice, but your German is perfect.” You decide to change the subject.

He chuckles, “Have I really been gone that long?” He softly mumbles to himself. “No, no I am not. I’m native to here, Munich, but I have been living in the states for some time. New York.”

“New York?” You raise a brow. “That must be so exciting.” A smile pulls at your lips. “I’ve always wanted to see the city, is it as nice as they say?”

Another chuckle, heartier and from his chest this time. “It is far too glamorized. Very dirty, stinky.” He waves a hand. “But the people there… They are truly one of a kind.”

You take another sip, nearly emptying your cup. “I’m sure you’re a wildcard yourself.” You offer him your name, finishing your tea. “What brings you back to Munich?”

He begins to raise his hand, perhaps offering a handshake, before quickly pulling away. He clears his throat, “Kurt Wagner, and homesickness, really. It has been years since I’ve been home.”

You offer him a sweet smile. “Welcome home, Kurt.”

You hear his heart beat a little harder, faster. “Ah, thank you!” His cheeriness returns, and you surmise this is this natural state of being.

Now this man really has your attention. You curse yourself for not bringing your notebook. You just simply must engage him in more conversation. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’d love to hear about your time in America, where you plan to go and do while you’re here, back home. I hope it’s not too invasive.”

His tone tells on himself, making it clear he’s excited for someone to be interested in him. “Ah, well, in America I have found family.”

There’s a quick arch of blue that blurs behind his head. You blink. Did you just hallucinate?

“They truly are a gift from God.” He shakes his head. “You asked about my time in America, no? Not my family. Ahem.” He clears his throat and straightens himself in his seat. “I was rescued, in truth, I did not have the best life here in Munich. I used to be in the circus.” A smile slips across his lips as he reminisces. “They called me ‘The Great Nightcrawler.’” He spreads his hands out and open in front of him for added effect. “I was a trapeze artist, a great one.”

You hang onto every word, but bust out a giggle, “I assumed as much, with ‘Great’ being included in ‘The Great Nightcrawler’ and all.”

Kurt stumbles over himself, “Ah, yes- I suppose you are right.” He laughs in turn. “But I flew through the air with ease, to deafening applause.”

“Did you enjoy it? It sounds like you were beloved.” You muse.

“Aye, I did.” A beat passes, and his tone suddenly shifts somber. “Doing a performance, anyway. Any other time… It was not so great, the living conditions.”

Your lips form a tight frown. You won’t push himself to share what could be hurtful. The man links his hands together in front of him on the table. “A cage,” He begins. “I was kept in a cage, like an animal. Fed scraps, if anything. Force-fed beer after shows.” A broken, awkward laugh escapes his chest, “I would suddenly be a drunkard, not even knowing where in God’s Earth I was, then thrown into that harsh cold steel.”

You knit your eyebrows together, chewing the inside of your cheek more. A nervous, unhealthy habit you developed when the gears began to turn in your head. “How?” You squeak out. “How is that possible? How could they do that, isn’t it illegal?”

There’s a great, long pause. The shuffle of the pedestrians that wade by fill your ears. “I am a man of God, friend. I entrust in Him my life, my future. If He wished for me to… Endure that trial, then who am I to question Him.”

His answer left a sour taste in your mouth. He was dodging the issue at hand, you both knew that. You take a sharp inhale through your teeth, fidgeting with the hem of your one sleeve. It wasn’t uncommon to find someone faithful, and you had no gripes against Kurt for being so devout, but you just couldn't accept it being used as an excuse for flat-out abuse.

You open your mouth to press him without much thought, but luckily something else ensnares your attention. About twenty feet down the sidewalk, across the street, you hear the chatter of two policemen.

“There he is.” The one on the left gruffs.

“I see ‘im.” The other spits, “Bloody mutant.”

A mutant? Your heart leaps. Despite your infatuation with them, hungry to know more, you nearly never got to interact with one. You whip your head around, hoping that maybe despite your impaired vision, you could spot them in the crowd. Alas, the only strange figure is… The very man seated across from you.

Your heart now pounds in your ears, adrenaline searing through your veins. “Kurt,” You lower your voice, reaching out to grab his hand. “Please, just, trust me.”

“What?” He laughs, “Is there a joke coming? What is with the sudden seriousness, friend?” But as he sees your expression, his body tenses.

“Just walk with me. Do not look behind us.”

You rise from your seat, pushing it in beneath the table, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Still gripping his hand firmly, you begin to drag him down the street, blending in with the foot traffic.

“He’s starting to get away!” Your ears burn, hearing the police notice your failure to slip away.

It is only now your heart drops as you realize you have no idea what you are doing. Your guess about Kurt being the mutant is confirmed by the police’s reaction, but you didn’t think this far ahead. Where were you even going? What was the end goal? Walk to the end of the earth, hoping the police never catch up?

“Friend-“ Kurt begins, “What is the matter? What is going on?” His words slam into each other a tad, his breath hitching and increasing. He whips his head around, trying to see whatever had spooked you.

“The police,” You begin in a hiss, “They seem to be after you. I heard it.”

“Heard it?” He’s stunned. “Heard it where?”

You quickly yank him into a tight alleyway, a mere inch separates your chests as you face him. “Shh, watch. Across the street, they’re coming towards us. I’m sure they saw us dip in here.” You’re out of breath as your heart pounds against your ribcage. “I heard them talk about a mutant.”

It’s only now, being so up close and personal, do you truly see Kurt. It’s not that he likes the color blue, he is blue. His eyes are a dazzling gold. Two tiny points threaten to peek out from his lips, little fangs. Your eyes drift down, seeing a tail that ends in a pointed spade. You surmise that must have been the blur of blue from before.

“Y-You’re the mutant.” Your voice trembles, the adrenaline putting strain on your body. The realization of the pleasant fellow you spent your morning with being so… Different. You kick yourself for thinking that way, but it’s only result of the propaganda lining the streets. Your eyes are burning holes into him. You hear the blood rush to his face and ears, heart pounding.

You clutch your cane tighter, leaning into it. It’s not the best for you, as not only do you have Glaucoma, you happen to be blessed with the co-morbidity of Sickle Cell Anemia. Your joints are weaker than a healthy individual, and intense exercise, like running from the cops, is ill-advised. Your head swims as the tachycardia hits you like a tidal wave.

“Ah-“ Kurt raises his hands, hoping it eases your panic. “Aye, I am, but I am a friend. I won’t hurt you-“

Something whizzes by, grazing the bridge of your nose. Screams ring out in the street, pedestrians scrambling in every which way.

“Halt!” One of the officers bark, pointing some form of gun at the two of you. “You are being detained, mutant!”

The other steadily approaches, reaching for something hooked to his belt. Kurt’s eyes glance from the officers to you, and he closes the gap, wrapping his arms around you. “Take a breath, this may be disorienting.”

“Kurt, what-!“ You don’t get to finish, gasping as you feel yourself being hurled at a racing speed. It takes you by such surprise, you lose grip of your cane.

A plume of smoke clouds your vision as the smell of brimstone burns your nostrils. You cough, wobbling on your feet. You were dizzy before, but this was tilt-a-whirl level of topsy-turvy. You try to use your cane to steady yourself, but find that your weight is being supported by nothing at all.

You begin to head face first to what’s beneath you, but you’re caught by Kurt, his arm wrapping around your torso. “Careful there, friend.” He softly says, lifting you up. He refuses to release you until he’s certain you won’t go tumbling.

You blink. You were just in the alleyway, but now you’re peering down the city of Munich. The cops are just below you, and you see one officer ready his gun, aiming right for Kurt.

“Kurt!” You lunge toward him, the shingles of the roof unkind to being stepped on. It begins to slip away, sending you back down with gravity.

Another shot rings out. Kurt snatches you again, by your scruff, but he didn’t foresee the hit landing on you.

A curdling scream is ripped from your lungs, you feel the pierce of a needle in your side. In an instant, it feels cold, like liquid nitrogen being pumped in your veins. You look down, seeing a vial attached to the needle. Without much thought, you reach to grab it. Whatever it is, you want it out.

“No, don’t do that-“ Kurt firmly grasps your wrist. “I’m sorry, friend, but not until I know what they just dosed you with.”

“Dosed?” Your body not only feels frigid, as if you were tossed into a snow storm naked, it’s quickly increasing in mass. Your legs are growing limp.

“Aye.” His jaw locks, his gaze scanning down at the chaos below the two of you. “We must go.” He tosses you over his shoulder and whispers, “I am sorry.”

Another brief burst of frightening motion, another plume of smoke. It feels like being pitched like a baseball at record speeds. Your tea threatens to come back up from your stomach. You groan, rolling your head to the side. It’s strange seeing such familiar buildings from a birds-eye view, but you recognize you’ve moved a few blocks away in an instant.

You suffer a few more rounds of the sickening movement, before it finally ends. You’re in a cold, quiet bell tower. You’ve lost all sense of direction. You could be halfway across the globe for all you knew.

Kurt rests you against the wall, watching as your body slumps. “I am sorry, friend.” You try to move your head up, to hold his gaze, but you can’t. Your arms lay solid on the harsh stone.

Kurt crouches down, moving your coat away to inspect the projectile lodged in your side. “I am so sorry if this hurts. Please let me know.” His voice is so soft, as if he was speaking to a new born. It comforts you. He gently cups the tube in his hand, reading the inscription on the side. “Tch, American.” He spits.

He sighs, forcing a little smile for you. “Good news and bad news, friend.” He gently frees the needle out from you, ripping a pained gasp out of you. “It is just a tranquilizer, you will not die. It also happened to hit your liver, so it will flush out of your system quicker than usual. Bad news, you will be… Like this, for quite some time.”

You can’t even respond. You’re putting all your willpower into focusing on him, keeping your eyes open.

“But fret not, I will keep you safe!” He grins, slipping the tranquilizer into his pocket. “They do not call me the Great Nightcrawler for nothing.” He chuckles, but the worry lines on his face are crisp, even with your vision.

He glances over his shoulder. The chilly air only burns as wind whips across your features. You begin to shiver. When he looks back to you, he scrambles to slip off his coat, draping it on top of you. Underneath, he wears a tight black, red, and white uniform.

Silly, you think, your rational slipping, his circus outfit, here?

“Ah, I am so sorry.” He gently wipes a tear that you hadn’t registered. “You are safe, shh. Rest.” He pats your head.

You gain your senses for a moment, frustration boiling in you. You don’t, can’t, let yourself go. Not here, not now. You blink, again and again, fighting those heavy eyelids.

In astonishment, you watch as Kurt opens your satchel, rummaging around. He pulls out your wallet. Is he… Robbing you? How could he? You grumble in protest, but it falls on deaf ears. He places your wallet back in your bag, laying it gently in your lap.

“Rest easy, friend. I will return, I promise you.”

Smoke swirls in front of you, that now familiar burning smell hits you. The last thing you can recall is noticing a rosary, of all things, resting in your palm. The face of The Messiah watches you as you helplessly black out.

- - - -

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Find the fic here on AO3

Banners by @/cafekitsune

#my works #⚔️#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #x men evolution #xmen #x-men #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #angst #x reader #xmen x #reader #x-men x reader #xmen fanfic #x-men fanfic

280 notes · View notes