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writing-fool · 4 years ago

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mlqc | think of you somehow

I recently thought to start incorporating Shaw too. So, here is his debut on my page! I’m currently working on a fantasy!au for Kiro, a harrypotter!au for Victor and a couple of other things. Unfortunately, those will have to wait a little, since I have an entrance exam coming up next week. I have another thing queued up for the day after this, so stay tuned!

Someone in the discord group had to help me for Gavin; I didn’t have too much inspiration for that one...

As always, enjoy!

Love,

Warning(s): profanity, kinda. slight suggestive content

Victor

we all know Victor’s a huge tsundere who never learnt how to express his feelings in a normal way that doesn’t give you a headache.

i swear, why do i love him so much

he never gets needy, or so he says he sulks when you don’t give him his goodbye kiss after handing over a report at LFG

aaaand he needs a morning kiss before leaving for work anyways Victor doesn’t get needy

you’re his little recharge mechanism though, his little charging pod i’m currently imagining a roomba pfft

even he, a magical, genius CEO, gets exhausted sometimes

it’s not always fun. sure, he’s a total capitalistic tool, but business meetings with old men who think they can earn investments while ‘subtly’ looking down on him for his age aren’t a doozy.

don’t get me wrong, Victor never loses his composure, and due to being an extrovert (he’s not loud, but he’s not a person who gets energy from being alone perse, imo. besides, he’s a good leader, so extrovert seems likely, although he has a lot of introvert traits too.) he’s genuinely good at socialising

doesn’t mean he always likes it.

you often notice when he’s tired

when he gets home, you’ll usually be there already because your work just ends sooner on most days. he’ll set down his suitcase, hang his coat in the little closet by the door, take his shoes off, and prepare dinner

you’re probably kind of just there, chatting with him about his day while he cooks

he doesn’t allow you to work with knives at home because he’s overprotective you hurt yourself once

you might help a little, or get some work done by the table. Victor also had a piano put in the living area of the open complex penthouse, so you’ll play a tune sometimes. seems like he likes classical the most

Victor’s at-home appearance is a little different from his usual one. he still looks pretty clean and put-together, but he sheds his blazer (and vest) and socks. you two have matching slippers, so Victor wears his grey slippers with little cat faces on them (you have little beige slippers with dog faces on them)

when cooking, Victor rolls up his sleeves or switches to a v-neck sweater (during winter). his hair’s a bit fluffier than it usually is. all in all, a relaxed look.

after dinner, he’ll disappear for a little bit, doing some work before he it gets too late because he wants to spend time with you

usually, you’re lounging on the couch, reading or watching tv unless there’s a deadline then you’re a total mess working until late at night AND VIC HATES IT

he’ll come back into the living room from his home office, come up behind the sofa and just hug you while leaning down

“Hey handsome, you tired?” you ask. You reach your hand up, scratching the soft hairs at the nape of Victor’s neck while a relieved sigh passes through his lips.

Victor moves to the couch with you, and you know he’s Done with work for the day. he doesn’t even say anything, just relishes in your presence

he gets a bit touch-starved on occasions like these, so he’ll sit on the sofa and just pick you up and plop you on his lap.

but like, in a koala way. that makes very little sense, huh. you’ll be straddling him, pressing your chest up against his and put your chin on his shoulder. your hands are around his neck and his are somewhere around your waist.

you just sit there, maybe kissing a little, most likely pressing little kisses on each other’s collarbones/neck no hickies because you guys are pretty important people with quite the image well, can’t say it never happened before though, can you~

Victor’s totally in his safe spot here, so if he does say something in this moment, it’s not some guarded/sarcastic comment. he’s vulnerable and honest, so “I love you”s are not rare at all here.

he might purr if you scratch his head. maaybe. don’t ask whether author Ré sees Victor Li as a cat...

10/10 Victor will carry you to bed like this. brush your teeth before because there’s no way this man is letting you go.

Lucien

uhh to this day, i don’t think anyone really knows the extent of Lucien’s thoughts

like, in a sense, he’s a lot more guarded than, say, Victor, but they do say the best lies are ones shrouded in truth so the feelings he shows outwardly may actually resemble his actual ones atm

so...i wouldn’t say he gets very needy at all. not according to the standard definition, anyways

if he wants a kiss, he steals one from you. if he wants a hug, he’ll fluster you by backhugging you. if he wants to make out, he’ll push you against the nearest surface and steal your breath away. if he wants something more, he’ll make sure to rile you up until you’re in the mood for ehem. my fingers must’ve slipped...

Lucien’s modus operandi is definitely ‘take what i want when i want it’ in your relationship WITH CONSENT. HE’S NOT AN ASS.

he comes on strong, he’s smooth and he’s devilishly handsome. as a result, he’s often initiating any affection you guys have.

so, while he’s not necessarily needy, he can’t shake the idea that maybe you don’t want him like he wants you. Lucien get that thought out of your head you two are domestic goals. he was stuck in a period of unrequited love for a while, sort of, so he thinks that he could handle being the one in the relationship that loves the other more.

but the thought of you not loving him as uncontrollably, frighteningly, irrevocably as he loves you scares him to the very core of his being. because he’s in deep.

there’s also the factor of him knowing that he doesn’t deserve you after all he’s done. but yet, you’re here with him.

so...Lucien knows it’s childish when he drops his head onto your lap while you’re reading on the couch Lucien: *sees your lap* it’s free real estate

he pretends it’s because he wants to take a nap. but actually he wants to see whether you’re affectionate when he’s not the one instigating it.

either you’re just too embarrassed to do so when he’s taking initiative, or you’re not all that into him. i wrote about Luci’s love language being touch, so he probably sees you not touching him as a sign that you don’t love him

i’m not saying it’s a dealbreaker if you don’t like physical affection, but it’d take longer for him to open up to someone who’s not comfortable with his touch

anyways, almost immediately after he closes his eyes, you thread your fingers through his soft hair, raking them lightly over his scalp.

“You must be truly tired, falling asleep like this. Poor Lucien.Take care of yourself, my foolish professor.” and his heart shatters in Soft™

slowly, you shift to bend down, and Lucien feels your soft lips kissing his forehead, his nose, his cheek and finally landing on his lips. he smiles in that last one.

it’s not a sensual kiss, just an innocent, loving one. and Luci realises that yeah, you’re just as gone for him as he is for you. Maybe, you’re not the caged butterfly in this relationship...

he actually dozes off to the feeling of your hands in his hair, sometimes moving to gently brush a thumb over his cheek, sometimes pulling away to flip a page in your book.

when he wakes up, there’s a blanket covering him and a soft pillow under his head

the hazy, irrational part of him makes him jump up, thinking you’ve gone after all. maybe it was all just a dream. one too good to be true.

but the melodic humming in the kitchen and the mugs filled with piping hot tea on the coffee table tell him you’re real, and you’re here with him

afterwards, Lucien naps on your lap more often. they’re his favourite treat

sometimes, you read to him, lulling him to sleep with your voice

honestly, domestic moments like this almost make Lucien want to cry out in joy because he never thought this was something he’d ever have.

well, they did say to treasure the little things in life...

Gavin

i’d say Gav’s a good 6.83 on the needy scale

he could be a 7.91 to be honest, so he has needy potential, but this man’s too shy to be needy

i mean, if you ever kiss him or hold his hand in public, his ears turn red and he’s an incoherent mess for like 10 minutes.

proceed with caution. or not. muahahaha

i think in a way, he grew up with the notion that he was a nuisance too yes, yes, we all want to deck Gavin’s dad in the face so he’s afraid to be vulnerable and needy with you.

MC: *pats Gavin’s hair.* this bad boy can fit so many daddy issues in it

ANYWAYS, the most this baby does is call you when he misses you

“I-I just wanted to hear your voice, okay?”

doesn’t really initiate a ton of affection either.

again, he could...but he holds back. also he’s just so respectful of your boundaries and would rather have you indicate what you like in the relationship.

honestly he loves it when you snuggle up to him anyways soooooo...

but there are times when even Birdcop completely breaks and just needs you to be there for him

Gav does value communication, so he will actually ask for cuddles if he’s THAT needy such a healthy relationship dynamic

doesn’t happen a lot, but when it does...

you’ll be at home when he comes home from a mission. he’s had a pretty intense day, and now he just wants to unwind with you

this darling sheepishly walks up to you.

and as you turn around to greet him, he’ll ask

“Can...I hold you?”

you drop EVERYTHING you’re doing because the moment he asks for hugs, it’s serious.

cuddles with Gavin are a 100% engagement kind of thing. you can’t do anything else, you’re stuck in his arms for a while

you guys usually move to the rug in the living room. not the sofa, which seems weird, but Gavin’s a tall gangly boy, measuring at 181 cm or 5′11″ I’m using the imperial system for you guys *grumble*

the sofa is just not big enough to fit his long legs comfortably when he’s laying down, and his neck hurts

also, it’s not optimal for big bear hugs

Why not use the bed? i hear you ask. BECAUSE IT’S NOT RIGHT.

anyways, on extra effort days, you’ll make a pillow fort, but usually he just takes a pillow, a blanket and flops on the floor

cuddle hours are spent talking. no phones, maybe some music, but all-in-all they’re just times to open up, which is kind of rare for someone so rough around the edges

he turns to absolute putty when you start rubbing his stomach under his shirt this is canon don’t @ me

“Mmm...don’t do that,” he whines groans.

“You seem to be enjoying it, though?”

“Mm...no.” you liar.

honestly in like a realistic, domestic setting, a relationship with Gavin would be one of the healthiest ones within the five boys.

he cherishes you so much, and definitely tries his best to be open with you, even though he’s experienced things that make trusting others difficult.

because if there’s one person in the whole wide world he would trust, it’d be you.

Kiro

needy? you mean, Kiro all day, every day?

this boy loves you with all he has and the day he doesn’t show you how loved you are and how much he literally worships the ground you walk on is the day hell freezes over.

kissing, hugging, being cutesy, gifts, matching clothing, fun outings, food. ANYTHING

to be honest, he likes being with you in general, and would probably never leave your side if he didn’t have to

Kiro trusts you enough to share his entire world with you, fully knowing that he’s taking the risk of exposing himself like this. he knows that if this doesn’t work out, he’ll never be able to enjoy his world again because you’re so ingrained in it.

but the thought of not committing to you with his entire being doesn’t even cross his mind obviously, y’all are endgame so don’t even try to break up with this pupper

he tries to make up for your busy schedules with extra affection most of the time too

but actually, Kiro doesn’t just resort to hugging you in his arms, peppering kisses all over your face and not letting you go for hours when he’s lonely although he does do this. it’s just not something he does when he reaaally missed you.

when he’s having a bad day and needs you the most, he’ll drag you out for some hotpot at night

it sounds silly, doesn’t it? but over a steaming pot of broth with various dishes, he sees your face and he feels at home. i mean, he loves food, he loves you. what’s better than a combination of both?

you laugh, chat and be as loud as you want. Kiro doesn’t have to disguise himself in the little shop at 2 am

the restaurant owner loves you guys, and gives you free beef on many occasions

he thinks you guys remind him of him and his wife when they were younger, although he jokes that Kiro’s a just a tad more handsome than he used to be~

Kiro likes feeding you and loves how you used to be so embarrassed about it. nowadays, you laugh and accept the food like you’re used to it, and somehow, that makes his heart soar

you take the long way home, walking back to your large shared flat under the night sky

Loveland City’s never fully quiet, but at least the people at that time don’t bother him. they’re either too drunk, or too stuck in their own thoughts. let’s face it, people who have their life together don’t wander around sober and alone at 3 am.

Kiro sometimes misses being invisible, but he also knows that he’s doing good by being who he is in this life. being a celebrity is tough, but intimate moments like these do kind of make it bearable

he holds you by the waist, enjoying the view with a serene smile and a full stomach by the view, he means you for the most part

“Hmm...Miss Chips, do you know how beautiful you look right now?”

your lipstick’s worn off, sweat’s cooling down on your face and your makeup’s smudged, but in that moment, Kiro thinks you’re the most ethereal being in the whole universe.

because you’re the only one who he would want to do this with. you’re the only one who would enjoy the night with him, stranded in this strange, thick atmosphere of melancholy and happiness.

one time, maybe a few months ago, it rained when you two exited the hotpot joint

instead of buying umbrellas at a nearby convenience store, you ran down the streets, jumping in puddles and laughing your asses off

Kiro swears he fell in love with you all over again that day.

Shaw

yah...i never really know what to call Shaw’s personality

he’s kind of a tsundere, but not in the way Victor is? he teases the shit out of you when he has feelings for you, but he’s also kind of a douche about it

and he’ll probably never admit how precious you are to him also he probably thinks he doesn’t deserve you

i love this little bastard but i get SO fed up with him

this boy doesn’t even actually take you on proper dates

like, it’s either university café, impromptu graffiti trips which to be honest might be an actual date or going to a club which could be a date but when you’re in a relationship with Shaw it kind of isn’t bcs he’s there 7/7

anyways, he doesn’t do the whole ‘love’ thing very well. he’s fine with PDA, so he’ll full on snog you in the club or reach over the table to lick whipped cream off of your face last time you’re ordering a frappuccino with whipped cream

but he does it mostly to get a reaction

it’s not insincere, but he also doesn’t view PDA as a loving gesture perse

will not be honest with his words. don’t expect it. he’s built a shield around himself and therefore literally doesn’t know how to talk to someone kindly.

but...he tries.

Shaw’s most vulnerable and needy moment is the early morning

it’s not at night, cos he spends nights out partying or having a one-night stand what? he’s a healthy, viral boy!

his one-night stands never saw him in the morning because he’s honestly the type to hit and run i’m sorry how was i supposed to say this or alternatively to kick his partner out at 4 am

but you’re his first actual love, and even he knows you don’t kick your lover out if you give a damn about the relationship

it was a big step for him to feel comfortable with you...but he doesn’t regret it one bit he probably won’t tell you that though

anyways, Shaw’s groggy morning voice makes you delirious BUT that’s a little besides the point

you wake up in each other’s arms

if you wake up first, you’ll probably stare at his face for a while until he does and inevitably says “What? Am I that handsome, huh?” secretly thrives off of your compliments

if he wakes up first, he’ll probably wake you up by tickling you or touching you in some way ehem innocently Minor made me clarify it

any way it happens, you guys participate in some good morning spoonage

Shaw loves burying his head in your neck to press kisses and love bites there, smell your scent and hide the blushing face that is so very rare

finally one thing the brothers have in common

he’s aware he’s being a little too sappy for his own liking, but it feels wrong to ruin the morning mood with a snarky comment when you look so soft under the beams of sunlight flooding his bedroom

so he says nothing, and keeps you wrapped in his arms

in a moment of serene bliss, you hum and say “I love you.”

as a response, this boy squeezes you a little tighter, buries his head a tad deeper in the crook of your neck

“Shut up.”

you know him well enough to know he’s feeling embarrassed, so you wriggle out of his grasp and turn around

Shaw whines a little when he’s forced to loosen his grasp

you look straight at his face, finding him even cuter when his mischievous smirk is replaced by a pouty scowl

“I love you, I love you, I love you I love you I love you love you loveyouloveyou,” you repeat, watching his face grow redder and redder

he groans audibly. “Shut up!” but he can’t help but smile at your gleeful giggles

“What? I do! I love you so much, Shaw.”

he kisses you to shut you up, but it’s not one of those fast, rough, wild kisses

it’s...tender.

he cradles you in his arms, trying to convey how he feels through a kiss

“‘Love you,” he mutters against your lips.

“What was that?” you tease him.

“Nothing.”

“Aw, come on! One more time?”

“Nope.” yup, he tries.

I’ve been doing a lot of picture editing for all of my posts...but I think these will be the official ‘character separators’ since I don’t have the energy or will to make new ones for every fanfic...post banners are still a thing for every post though.

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phenomenal1500 · 4 years ago

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The Blood In My Veins | Black Sails

Chapter 65: MDCCXX

For Chapter 64: XXXVIII click here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Piracy was now of course strictly disapproved of. Well, that was supposedly so that Nassau retained a good image and no longer attracted armies. Nassau was finally secured and we finally were able to have a proper life. As for piracy around the world; Even if we, the heart of pirates, would retire.... there would always be someone new stepping out of the shadows. Piracy will always live forth and Jack, Charles and I would make sure of it.

~~~

4 years later

~~~

"A little help!!" The heavy sound of swords being forced against swords echoed through the air and was carried away by the strong wind as I recalled for support. Charles immediately tossed me his second sword and in a matter of seconds I had impaled my competitor's heart. Another man tried to sneak up at me from behind, but I had focused on the sound of his loud footsteps and with my last bullet I blew his head off of his neck. The noise of death had diminished and the last few of our enemies had retreated, now sitting on their knees and praying for their salvation, salvation they would never receive. I was observing the scene from the upper deck, behind the helm and suddenly the breeze blew my hair in my face. I quickly secured my hair in a high ponytail, acting like nothing had happened and I straightened my back when our captured enemy glanced at me.

"You had struck your colours, yet, thereupon you still dared to attack us." Jayson declared out loud and had in the meantime bent down to look the Commodore in his frightened eyes. Jayson then slapped his thighs, scaring the man even more, before standing up to ask the question we all wanted to have the answer to. "What will become of their futures?"

The crews that belonged to me and Charles stood alongside each other on the British ship, but their mindsets were still their own and the men grew wild like hungry wolves. My hand trailed down the smooth wooden railing as I dramatically guided myself down the stairs and I positioned myself before the row of captured men, working for British Navy that had crossed our path at sea.

It grew silent.

I shared one look with the blue eyed man and licked my lips before my hoarse voice because of the yelling and lack of water disturbed the sudden silence.

"Their futures will not be decided by me, but by themselves." I declared. "I say we throw them overboard! Land isn't far away so let's see how good they actually learn to swim in the Navy!"

"AYE!!" The men happily agreed and we released the prisoners from the rope that held their wrists and legs together.

They were pulled to their feet and one of them had collected his saliva to be able to spit on me before he was dragged to the ship's railing to be thrown into the dark, cold ocean.

There was a huge possibility that a group of hungry sharks waited for them underneath the ships, although I doubted it this time.

We were horribly close to land so the men were probably lucky if the sharks wouldn't smell their blood.

I wiped the spit off of my face and leaned over the railing to watch the men swim away from us like they had seen the devil.

"What even was their plan?" The muscular man snuck up from behind me and I smiled as I felt his hands slide down my sides to afterwards wrap his arms around my body. Closing my eyes as I relaxed in his arms, I focused on the sound of his voice which was hearable for a second time. "They surrendered.... raised the white flag even before something had happened and the moment we try to pass by calmly.... they fire?"

"I had no idea what they were thinking either, but one thing I can recall.... they weren't smart, nor strong." I chuckled as the two of us stared into the horizon that darkened every hour, showing us it was becoming evening soon. We had been sailing for one month straight with the intention of sailing to an estate north of Spanish Florida.

The Oglethorpe's estate outside Savannah to be exact.

It had been four years since I heard anything from the man I saw as my father.... well, that was until I received a letter last month stating that Thomas Hamilton and James McGraw had been given the permission to go on free foot if they had someone who would wish to have them back in the open world. They were given the opportunity to send one letter to one person they thought would immediately respond and if not, they would stay locked away from the real world. It was a smart way of the estate to show their people who were incarcerated there that they cared for them and that they gave them the possibility to be free, although the creator of the estate of course knew nobody wanted them back....

I guess they thought wrong and Flint, now McGraw, knew that too, or else he wouldn't have chosen me to come and get them.

"When we dock in the bay, I managed to obtain a carriage driver to bring us there." I twisted in the man's arms and locked mine around his neck, glaring over his shoulder to see if we were already done with detraining the British ship that we had conquered unwillingly.

"I really appreciate it and the rest probably too. I think we all don't have the energie to walk that ourselves anymore." He grinned and I trailed my hands down to his torso to tap his muscles lightly. "Come, lets go join the others and get out of here."

"What will we do about the ship?" Charles asked, letting his arms relax beside his body as he stepped away from me.

"Burning it sounds like a good solution? No one will know what happened to the ship and who will believe those pathetic men once they return on land, if they survive, and the ship is nowhere to be found?" I suggested and the blue eyed man nodded in agreement.

"That does mean we have to sink it fast and make sure it sinks or else they could still find it while it's burning."

Charles was right.

It wouldn't work unless we made sure it was sinking fast.

"Fire at the lower deck?"

"That's what I was thinking." We made our way back to our fleet and leaned our hands on the wooden railing of Charles' ship before him giving the order to fire lowly at the ship. When we made sure the holes down below were big enough, we cut ourselves loose and got the hell out of there.

The next morning it wasn't too warm, but also not too cold and the strong wind had died down.

I rubbed my eyes as I glared over the blue sea that was lightened up by the sunlight shining on it and I enjoyed the ocean scent that came with it.

In the distance I surveyed land and a smile made its way on my face.

Sooner or later we would set foot there and would be taken to the Savannah Estate to take McGraw and Hamilton back home with us.

~~~

"Hereby the contract for taking over James McGraw and Thomas Hamilton and I'll highly recommend not to mention Sir McGraw's past. He's a changed man now." The grey haired man handed me over the papers we signed and then gestured to us to walk till the end of the hallway to afterwards go outside through the door on the right.

We had used fake names not to scare the estate workers. They didn't know that we were actually pirates and we wanted to keep it that way until we would leave because we had a chance we then wouldn't be able to take the men with us.

I thanked the man and then walked out with Charles to see a huge cane field appear before our eyes.

The men were actually taken care of and worked while joking with one another.

It was a sight I had never seen before when it came to people working on these types of plantages. Charles and I had prepared for at least some sort of slavery, but there were no chains involved, no one screaming at them or forcing them to work harder in the heat for days. This was different. It was a relief for both me and the man next to me and I was happy that McGraw and Hamilton didn't have to endure such terrible things as we had to when we were younger. Letting my eyes glide over the cane field, Charles suddenly closed his strong hand around my wrist and pulled me along and that's when I saw the men we were searching for. I enthusiastically waved at them and I no longer felt Charles' firm grip when he had released me, letting me run off to McGraw.

"James!" I shouted, naming him by his first name because I was listed as his half sister on the papers.

"Naida?!" Confusion was heard in his voice, probably a little surprised that I was right there within a month and called him James, but I didn't care.

He seemed in a good mood.

He pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around me into a warm embrace with me automatically hugging him back.

It felt nice to see him again after such a long time.

I remember 3 years back that I had figured out a plan to break him out of the Estate, although I had let that plan slip because I reminded myself he would be hunted for the rest of his life and wouldn't really have a free life. However, now.... he was going to be free, same as Hamilton without anything to worry about.

"It's good to see you, little snake." McGraw whispered and I scoffed jokingly.

I noted that McGraw had his hair grown back with the same tail in it as before.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Hamilton." The red haired man had let go of me and I offered my hand to the bald man on his left who gladly took it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well. James had promised me you would come and I knew I could trust his word. Thank you, Miss Jones." Hamilton murmured the last part, keeping my name a secret and Charles had in the meantime caught up with us.

"At sea I go by the name Jones.... at land Ms. Vane is fine. Or else it may create confusion between the crews."

"You two-....?"

"Are married, yes." Charles confirmed while cutting off McGraw's question and his hand snuck up to my hip, making me proudly smile back up at him.

"You all mind catching up later?" One of the guards whined. They clearly wanted us out of here and the four of us immediately, without hesitating, walked over to the gates of the estate, not minding to leave this place behind once and for all. The stuff the two had with them in this place were collected by the maidens and were put in a bag to make it easier for us to take it with us and when they shoved it into our hands we were pushed out of the estate and the gates closed behind our backs.

"Well, Mr. and Miss Vane, where will we be going?"

"Away from here.... back to Nassau. Though if you two desire to go somewhere other than Nassau, we don't mind taking you there as well." Charles proposed, but they both shook their heads.

"Nassau sounds like an excellent idea. Oh, and both of you, please keep on calling me Flint." Charles and I exchanged some fazed glares and then turned back to Flint. "They tried to brainwash us, make us forget who we were and what our past was. I must say it worked with most of the men, but with us it didn't. I won't forget the part of my life where Flint was involved. I perhaps have fallen back to McGraw's habits a little, but I'm too attached to Flint.... and besides that, I'm used to you two calling me Flint."

"Flint, I must say you surprised me with your calmness." I grinned and Flint immediately changed back to his old stern face expression I knew so well. "Never mind then." I corrected myself and the four of us were off to the carriage where some of our men were waiting on us.

~~~

Nassau

~~~

With some groceries under my arm I got along the way while Charles was showing Flint and Hamilton around the new Nassau, I stuck my key in the lock and unlocked my front door to push it open and walk inside mine and Charles' shared house. It was a bit smaller than the Governor's Mansion built in Nassau's square and our house was located outside of Nassau instead, but it wasn't too far away though.

We had built it with our share of the L'Urca De Lima that Jack had gifted us and a few pathways and stairs led up to the white colored house which made the way to Nassau easier and safer.

I laid the groceries down on a small table next to the huge front door and stared at the gigantic stairs in the middle of the living room, dividing into two on the second floor.

"Mum!"

A soft voice was heard and a big smile was painted on my face when my four year old daughter became visible while running down the stairs. Normally I would have been afraid or mad about her running down the stairs, but she was so fast at learning and I knew she was able to do so without something bad happening. She had done it multiple times even though we had told her not to, but she couldn't help herself though, she shared my habits and personality and I knew how hard that is to handle.

The only thing we didn't share were looks.

Her eyes were gray with a light brown tone in them and her hair was almost white, nothing like me or Charles.

She had her own beauty and it was the cutest thing ever.

Reverie was the second oldest, 6 minutes younger than my son Nikolai who was more like his father.

They had the same blue eyes, my son's a bit darker, and they shared the same hair color.... however when it came down to personality, Nikolai was a mix of me and Charles.

I opened my arms to welcome Reverie in my arms and picked her up to balance her on my hip, kissing her forehead.

"Where's dad?"

"Helping your uncles find a place to stay the night. He'll be back soon, I promise." I replied, gently tapping her nose one time with my index finger.

"NAIDA!!" A loud voice startled me and Jack tripped over his feet, almost tumbling down the stairs while calling for me.

It seemed like he could learn some things from my daughter when it came to walking.

"Jack." I laughed as he corrected himself in his walking and held onto the railing as he also made his way down the long stairs. "Thank you for looking after our children. Must be hard.... handling four kids."

"You had to bear them and now have to raise them, I can't complain and other than that.... they are actual angels." Jack explained and my smile grew even wider. Charles and I indeed were blessed with them. "If you wondered.... Nikolai is with Anne back in Nassau, they will be back soon and Davy and Avon are upstairs. Avon wanted to watch over Davy while she slept."

"And I wanted to come and hug mommy!" Reverie said while playing with my loose hair and I couldn't suppress a chuckle. I gave her one more kiss and had put her down so she could stand on her own two little feet again. "I'm going to go read now." She proudly stated and hopped to the bookcase that was in a sort of office room across the big open living room to the right. She couldn't read amazingly yet, but somehow still stayed interested in books.

"Jack, you are allowed to go, you know? I can still understand if you are tired, you aren't used to such a lifestyle."

"I'll stay until Charles is back.... if you don't mind of course."

"I don't mind. Perhaps you can even help me cook." Jack's facial expression became emotionless and I bursted out in laughter, knowing Anne normally cooked even though she didn't want people to know she had learned to cook. "I was just kidding."

"Uncle Jack, do you want to read this with me until my dad is back?!" Reverie's cute voice echoed through the living room and her adorable little face appeared in the door opening, making us break eye contact to look at her.

"I'm going to check on Davy and Avon."

Jack nodded at me and waved at Reverie to join him on the couch. She enthusiastically ran across the room and jumped on the couch with a small book in her hands and handed it over to Jack who volunteered to read it to her. Jack held the book open with his right hand while my daughter held the book open with her left one and I, step for step, moved upstairs and silently strolled through the left hallway to find Davy's bedroom. I held onto the golden door handle and I noiselessly pressed the door open, holding it tightly so it wouldn't hit the wall and cause the girl to awaken.

A warm feeling filled my heart when I spotted Avon, my second son, sitting in the chair next to the small wooden crib and had fallen asleep just like my little girl, Davy.

Avon was three years old with light green eyes and my hair color. He was a bit more of a rebel and had a wild personality, but was secretly very soft too and always wanted to take care of Davy who was now almost one year old. Davy, same as Reverie, didn't look like me or her father. Instead she had dark brown eyes and black hair and was very calm. I unfolded a soft blanket and covered my son with it before stroking his hair from his forehead to give him a kiss. I then rotated and let my thumb glide over the cheek of my little daughter before softly closing the door behind me to let them sleep without being disturbed.

I proceeded to walk back to the living room to go to the kitchen, letting my fingers follow the golden details in the white wooden walls and I suddenly picked up the sound of the front door opening.

"Dad?!" I could see Reverie jumping up from the coach when I stood at the upper step of the stairs and she hopped into Charles' arm while he held Nikolai in his other one. His expression turned from exhausted to a more delightful one and Jack said goodbye to us when he heard Anne's voice from outside. It wasn't the first time Charles and I had left off to raise the black flag at sea and it wasn't the first time for Jack to stay at our house, but we never had been this long and far away from our children and to be honest I had found it pretty rough.

"Sweetheart." Charles replied and put the two down so he could lower himself to his knees to hug them both closely. "Davy and Avon are upstairs?" He questioned me and I nodded, rushing downstairs to embrace my eldest son tightly.

"Found a place for Hamilton and Flint?" I had retreated my arms from hugging my son and he kissed me on the cheek which made me smile widely.

"Mhuh. At the tavern for now, but they will move in Barlow's former house when it is cleaned up." The children playfully roamed through the first floor of the house and Charles and I lovingly stared at one another. "God, I missed their presence."

"I did so too." I revealed honestly and together we went to the kitchen to unpack the groceries and cook some dinner for ourselves and the kids.

~~~

It had been a rough few years, but they were worth living it nonetheless. When I look back at it now, I appreciate every memory I had gained. Some memories were less pleasant than others like the loss of Hall Gates, Miranda Barlow, Billy Bones and Edward Teach, but those memories also made me who I have become today. I learned how to love and be hopeful when I felt like everything was falling apart.... things I wouldn't have learned if I didn't have left off to Nassau all those years ago. I deeply inhaled and opened my eyes, staring at the beautiful full moon that hovered over Nassau.

If I hadn't arrived here I would have never met Flint again.

If I hadn't killed those men on that beach the first day, I would have never encountered Charles the way we did.

I never would have been married.

I never would have gotten children.

I remembered my pregnancies and the lies the people around you told you just to ease the stress and fear you endured. I almost died that night with my twins Reverie and Nikolai because of exhaustion and lack of energy, but I carried on, Charles pulling me through labor, and it was worth everything in the end.

It didn't take long before Charles and I had decided to try for another kid when I was fully healed and that's how Avon was born.... and Davy after him. Of course we agreed it would be enough after our youngest daughter and I was grateful for each one of them.

Charles and I finally had succeeded to find the life we secretly had the urge for.

We thought we never were types to settle down, however life proved us wrong once more.

Married.... kids.... I smiled to myself at the thought.

Piracy made those things seem a fantasy, nothing close to reality, though they did become reality for us.

So much had changed.

I could hear the door behind me open and I jerked my head back to see Charles stepping outside onto the balcony while silently closing the door behind him afterwards. I had been reading on the balcony of our house with a single candle next to me to still be able to read the letters in the dead of the night and he smiled at me before offering me his hand.

I closed my book, laying it beside me before taking it, immediately being pulled to my feet.

"The kids are worn out.... and.... I locked our bedroom door." The oh so familiar look known as lust was visible in his eyes and I bit my lower lip before laughing.

"I love you, Charles." I chuckled as his arms closed around my lower back and pressed me into his muscular body with the intention of whispering the same words back into my ear.

"I love you too, little one." His lips brushed over my bare neck and I let out a small moan before he quickly pulled me inside.

I was wrong.... Some things never change.

~~~

A/N: I don't have much left to say.... I think I already said everything in the last chapter, but I still wanted to thank everyone who kept on reading this fic! I don't know if this was the end I had in mind, but most of it was already decided when I started this fic and I'm proud of how it turned out to be. It meant the world to me to know people enjoyed the things I wrote and I definitely loved writing this for all of you! I never thought this fic would be a complete year of updating, but it didn't bother me because like I said I absolutely loved it. Thank you all so much and I wish you all the best!!! 🤍🖤

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newbornwhumperfly · 5 years ago

Text

all i know is you’re the nicest thing

CW: references to past non-con, dissociation, panic attack, references to victim-blaming.

a spinoff gift fic of @haro-whumps brilliant, heart-wrenching group whump series. this is based on some headcanons we’ve exchanged. i hope you like it, haro!!!

Snow is thick on the ground and Galo is going stir-crazy.

He hasn’t been able to run around the mansion for a week now. While it was kind of a fun challenge to wrestle through the drifts when they were ankle-high, it’s now impossible while keeping good form. Per usual, he’s been visiting the gym regularly but that’s come to a stop with the week before Christmas, depriving Galo of even this pressure-release. He still lifts weights, pushes and pullups until his arms tremble but he’s pushed himself as far as he can without burning out. Video games always exist, obviously.

What’s really funny, Galo thinks sourly, plucking a thread loose in his coverlet, is how a little cold weather makes you realize how isolated you are. Sure, he’d never really cared for Christmas. Correction: he kinda hated it. Aside from the fact that he’s decidedly not religious, the holiday was always bound up with baggage. Being made to wear festive, uncomfortable dresses to seemingly infinite parties full of infinitely shallow, shitty guests tripping over themselves and one another to flaunt how well they were doing.

Ever since he’s gotten his own place, Galo never bothered with his own celebrations. No SO, no super close buddies to chill with, no way in hell he’s gonna make plans with anyone in his family. Outside of the occasional Christmas party at work and its flimsy temptation of free dessert and sparkly booze, he hasn’t bothered.

Now though…

Galo worries his lower lip as he sips the smoothie Sasha made for him. There’s a sprig of holly on the rim and it makes him grin. The timid woman has blended his breakfast for the past seven months and he’s come to lean on the reliability of it, the way that Sasha assembles the ingredients just so, drawing out a fresh deliciousness he’s never managed to coax from the mixture. She’s really damn good with food and he remembers to tell her so whenever the opportunity arises. It never fails to soften her.

Now he has people to take care of. Well, ok, they’re not children. But sometimes Galo feels that way, as guilty as it makes him. They’ve learned helplessness well, as they were trained to. As it was beaten into them over years and years, until they were broken, stitched back together with brutal routine. He grips his cup, fingers flexing in rage. Aunt Bethany may be cold in her grave but Galo’s anger refuses to cool, needing only a flinch or stammer or any unbidden reminder of the abuse to stoke that fury. The many weeks Galo has lived with these traumatized slaves has only peeled back fresh layers to the nightmare, all of it fuel to the simmering heat that lurks below his skin. He said he wasn’t religious but he really hopes hell is real.

Galo threads his fingers through his tuft of hair, yanking firmly to shake that train of thought off its runaway track. Now he can’t even work out until the burn of adrenaline smothers the hateful heat in his veins, he needs a new distraction other than his guild or fucking video games he’s played a hundred times before. The charity places he fills his spare hours with are all closed too, the heavy snowfall blocking most of the volunteers from service. He really is gonna go crazy, stuck for long, quiet hours in this sprawling estate with only his slaves for company. Who can’t leave and will all probably feed off his tension until they’re all an accidental frown away from a breakdown.

Fuck.

Bethany is gone but her horrors haunt this house, the ghosts waiting to strike in every corner.

Galo wonders if these guys celebrate the holidays at all. None of them can buy eachother anything, duh, but they’d probably made do? He doesn’t really have any clue what slaves would do on holidays but it’s probably none of his goddamn business. If he had to venture a guess, they probably did something special together after Bethany fell asleep. Or who knows? Maybe Christmas had shittier associations for them than even he had. That assumption was probably depressingly accurate. They were clearly devoted to this little unit of theirs and had probably found some way to make the day nice for one another.

And Galo had the nerveto feel stymied. He groaned as he threw an arm over sore eyes, blocking out the gaming livestream he was listlessly tracking on his laptop. He sure as hell wasn’t throwing a party in this gothic funhouse, most likely the first time in the group’s memory that they didn’t have to arrange an event. He was sitting pretty on millions of dollars, bemoaning his loneliness on a holiday he didn’t even celebrate in the first place.

He’s sure that the poor bunch downstairs could only dream of getting good things like he could get for himself anytime he wanted.

Oh.

Galo sprung up from his lazy sprawl against the headboard, an idea flaring up, getting brighter and warmer the more he thought on it.

This…this could be a good idea.

Could be being the operative word here, Galo determines, clicking away from the livestream to open a new search page as he reaches for his notebook and begins to flip through the pages of observations. He pauses, massaging his eyes as he considers his options. He’d have to be verycareful with this one; if he’s gonna do this, he needs to do it right or not at all. It might be a big fucking mistake, with the potential for backsliding practically a minefield under Galo’s still-balancing feet.

But it has been months. Dozens of days had crawled by without incident and he’s got wiggle room when it comes to potential fuck-ups – the last triggering incident was over two months ago and it had nothing to do with Galo’s actions. He figures he is safe for now. But, then again, he might never be safe when it comes these people – or rather, they might never feel safe with him, he acknowledges, heart panging sharply at the thought. Is it worth the risk, disturbing the fragile balance he’d so painstakingly built over the stretch of time?

Galo sighs, trying to release his tension the breath as he rubs his temple, ruffling the buzz of hair distractedly. It might be selfish, but he wants – desperately – to make them happy. To do something for them all other than just stay out of their way. There’s always the risk, in anything he says or does or doesn’t say or doesn’t do, that he will hurt them without even knowing it and it hurts. One thing he knows for sure is that he’s never been that person to resign themselves to doing nothing. Nothing is written in stone – if he has the heart and the care, he can do what he puts his mind to.

Sucking air into his lungs in one big, fortifying whoosh, Galo squares his stiff shoulders and starts typing suggestions into his search bar. He’ll start with Greyson, since his choices are easier, and then work his way down the list. He’s got less than a week and if he can do this right, and he needs – he reallyneeds – to get this one right, then they’ll be happier. And that’s all that really matters in the end. These people have never expected kindness outside of one another for their entire lives and Bethany had built the world in their minds in her image, a world of casual cruelty.

Well, it’s about the time to change that, and if Christmas is supposed to be a time of rebirth or whatever, Galo will exorcise his aunt’s presence with the ass-whooping spirit of the motherfucking season.

~ ~

Master Galo has been…animated.

Galo is almost always cheerful, at least in their presence, but the past week has thrown the man into a state of nervous energy. It isn’t…bad, as far as Greyson can pinpoint. There is an excitement which hovers around him but there is tension too. He’s been muttering under his breath a great deal, mumbling to himself in a distracted, half-aware manner as he has tended to do when he has a lot on his plate. He has been glued to his laptop a great deal as well, tending to pace with it as he wanders on socked feet between his usual haunts. Most hours, he drifts from one room to another, sometimes shutting himself into a room to make a call, sometimes contemplating something on the screen in long pauses, biting his lip, brow scrunched in focus.

Greyson has warned the rest to take care and not distract Master Galo, as he is prone to bumping into doorframes or nearly tripping as he turns about to set the device down and scribble swiftly in that bulky notebook that he carries in his pants pocket everywhere he goes. Whatever Master Galo’s true mood, Greyson knows it would not do to disturb his patterns of distraction. It has already been tense downstairs, what with Master trapped inside due to the harsh weather and lack of exercise routine. A bored Master is dangerous. His full attention could be easily caught by anything (or anyone) who got in his way right now.

And he cannot help but notice, even though he should not notice, as it is none of his business, that Master Galo keeps the screen darker than usual when he carries it around and he always closes it when Greyson or one of the others approaches. He does the same with the notebook but there is almost a caution to the movement when Galo notices he is being observed or approached, snapping the device shut and looking for a moment almost like a guilty child caught sneaking a treat. Greyson does notwant to think about what that means. He will find out soon enough, he suspects.

So for almost a week, as Christmas Eve crept closer through the soft, white hours, passing too slowly and yet too fast, Greyson watched and waited for something to happen.

~ ~

Nyla has brought several packages up to Master Galo’s room in the past week.

In the past, she wouldn’t take too much note of this. Mistress had had everything delivered to her once her knees got too bad to go out shopping anymore and she had always given Nyla’s own knees a good whack with her cane when Nyla brought her the latest purchase.

Now, however, it is unusual now and unusual is always bad. Master Galo doesn’t tend to buy things for himself, besides the occasional video game or set of clothes that he often chooses to drive out and pick up in person. Now, he has eagerly grabbed each new package from her, a pleased, giddy grin on his face every time. She doesn’t know what it means but she has noticed Master’s hyperactivity and knows that Greyson is concerned. When she allows herself to dwell on it, it concerns her too.

Master’s behavior might not be bad (yet) but Nyla certainly isn’t going to call it good. Master Galo insisted he wants Christmas to be uneventful and while Nyla would typically be beyond grateful for such a reprieve, her anxiety worsens with the lack of planning to busy her worried mind. Nevertheless, she pours the fretful energy into perfecting what she can. She can always be perfect. Nyla assures herself of this constant as she polishes and re-polishes, scrubs and sharpens and floats like a dust mote through the halls, quivering at the ready for Master’s beck and call.

Her headaches are beginning again. The season ushers them in without fail, sharp heat coiling down her neck, her jaw, up through her temples and between the eyes, at times so stabbing that she nearly staggers from the anguish. She doesn’t though, despite being uncommonly tempted to grimace against the cruel pale glare of winter sun through every window. Putting it out of her mind, she glides quietly in rooms near Master Galo.

Adjusting this, that was already straight.

Wiping this, that was already spotless.

She scrubs at a wood-stain on the balcony for the sake of scrubbing, letting the tingling cramps in her overworked wrists and sore knees distract her from the pain in her head. How much her jaw felt like it was trying to escape from her face, how much her neck seemed trying to twist off from the rest of the spine, and the constantpressure, the throbbing patch of nose, eyes, brow clamped with a spiked vice.

Mercifully, dusk was coming swiftly at the heels of the noon, the quickly dimming sky beckoning in Christmas Eve. Nyla has told Greyson to be ready with the car in case Master should want to go somewhere at the last minute. Lilah has kept the driveway shoveled with Evan’s help, bless them both, and salted. Sasha putters about the kitchen, busy with nothing as she travels in slow circles like a crumb circling the drain. They all feel it. They are all waiting. Master has been locked in his bedroom all day and most of yesterday, doing…something. Other than an occasional soft curse, Nyla has heard little when she passes (pauses, lingers, eavesdrops) by his door. She doesn’t think about what might be coming, what could be about to descend upon them swifter than the evening, better to lose herself in little meaningless labors.

Her focus thankfully helps her avoid a start when Master Galo flings his bedroom door open and pokes his head out, glancing about until his eyes catch Nyla, already risen from her futile polishing to a poised, submissive, smiling stance.

Perfect. She is perfect.

“Oh! Hey, Nyla, good – you’re exactly who I wanted. Um, is everyone…busy right now?”

Nyla parses the question. Everyone should be busy. That seems to be the right answer.

“Yes, Master Galo. Is there anything you require?”

Master didn’t seem outwardly displeased by her answer so she let herself breathe into his reply.

“Awesome. Yeah, actually. Why don’t you tell everyone to finish up whatever they’re doing? If it’s not finished, it can wait till later. After that, can you tell everyone that I wanna see them, and you too, in the living room? I’ve got some…gif-, uh, good surprises for everyone.”

Nyla can’t breathe in. She has breathed out already and can’t breathe back in. She needs to breathe in. Needs to speak.

Surprises.

For everyone.

Oh god.

Oh please.

Breathe.

She’s missed his words, muffled, underwater, swimming through too-thick air, no sound.

You need to breathe.

You need to listen.

Listen!

Air thins around the words and they make it to Nyla’s ears.

“-holiday spirit and, uh, yeah. It’s my festive mood coming out I guess. Don’t wanna give it away, you’ll all see the surprises in a moment anyway! But, yep, a few minutes? That good?”

Breathe.

She’s still smiling. She can feel it. She can feel her face, her mouth, her hands clasped in front of her. She can’t feel her lungs for some reason.

She blinks.

Nods.

She’s answered Master, right? God, please, has she answered Master’s question?

She must have. She must have. She must have answered correctly because he is grinning and nodding and thank holy god he isn’t really looking straight at her, rubbing his neck in that strange way he does sometimes. She must have answered him because he hasn’t gotten angry and he’s closing the door and she couldn’t have made it worse and she can’t make it worse and she’s perfect and she-

Perfect.

The word is like a splash of cold water and Nyla remembers how to inhale, knees buckling briefly with the dizziness of no air, catching herself on the balcony as the head-neck-spine-wrist-knee pain floods through her awareness, riding in on the icy wave of fear.

Surprises.

For everyone.

Perfect.

Enough. Nyla flicks her tender wrist with sharp, punishing taps until her limbs unfreeze. The moment she trusts her legs to carry her, she scoops up her cleaning supplies and lets her body take over. Drift gently down the stairs to inform the others. Obey. Guide the others.

Be perfect.

~ ~

It’s about fucking time.

Evan allows himself to savor this small prick of resentment on his swift walk to the living room, following only a minute behind Greyson, who’d tersely passed along the command.

Huffing harshly through his nose, he lets the tic in his jaw relax into his required, submissive blank while he tucks the flyaway hairs at his neck and forehead back into his ponytail. He doesn’t give a damn, of course, how pretty he looks. It’s not like his Master is gonna fuck him…probably. Gifts are not good; Evan should know that by now. Should know better than anyone. His gut lurches oddly at the memory of clammy, clawed hands pawing and pulling and scraping and taking what they want. He hasn’t been eighteen in a while but the space of years makes no difference and he can still smell the stench of smoky, heaving gasps. He can still feel the confusion like a sticky sweat crawl through his limbs morphing into terror-rage-shame.

It’s just the scent-memory which summons nausea, nothing more. He just…hates the smell of ash on breath. Hates that it’s been months since he’s had hands on him, years since that was new, hates that the hands fill his dreams and make him wish he had no skin to touch at all. He scratches the ghostly caresses off in the shower and tries to be grateful, bitterly, that no new hands have replaced the phantoms. Master isn’t gonna fuck him, at least, not soon. He shouldn’t have any reason to care about “looking proper”.

But Nyla would care, Evan thinks, the months-old regret clenching like an invisible vice around his heart. He owes it her to still be good, to at least try to live up to her poise.

It’s this duty which lulls him as he glides, smooth and graceful as he can, into place behind Nyla in the living room. He notices how she and Greyson have put themselves at the front, forming a fragile wall in front of Lilah, who is quivering in place and hunching to make herself shorter. Sasha has placed herself at Lilah’s left, shoulder almost brushing her bowed head as she curls ever-so-slightly inward towards the teen. Evan has been left Lilah’s right to stand at, his tall form shielding her from the room’s entrance. All of this was Nyla’s doing, of course it was. She has ensured that Lilah will, at least, not be the first to endure what is to come, has given her time to brace herself.

Evan’s love and respect for Nyla soars and nearly overwhelms him for a moment as he tries mirroring her back-straight neck-long eyes-low hands-clasped-lightly posture. She had forgiven him a while ago though softening took far longer and he is grateful for the generosity of time when he hears her hum, barely audible, in approval.

It is the only sound other than crackle-rumble of the enormous wood-fire blazing high and hot and he glances to the side to see the orange shadows dance over Lilah’s face. The dull roar has drowned out her breathing, too loud, too uneven. She hasn’t gone Quiet yet and he wishes she could when the flames reflect tears threatening to spill from her eyes already. She’s trying very hard, he can tell. His sweet baby Lilah. His sweet baby girl. He wishes so badly he could hug her right now. He wishes Master wasn’t about to hurt her for no fucking reason.

Stop it.

Those thoughts are dangerous territory and Evan will notlet himself ruin anything for everyone else. This isn’t about him. He needs to be perfect right now, for Nyla, for Lilah, for all of them. He owes them that much at the very least. It gets harder to keep his face flat, however, when Master practically strutsaround the corner.

In all the months he’s been here, Master has never looked so energized. He’s switched out his usual t-shirt and shorts for a casual suit, hair slicked, and when he strides to a halt in front of the Christmas tree, he’s almost bouncing on his heels. His hands keep clenching, unclenching, clenching with whatever jumpy giddiness that’s put that wide grin on his face. Whatever restraint has kept him tethered is loose now and it trembles through every line in his broad body.

Evan drops his gaze to the rug so he doesn’t have to look anymore, tracing the red-white-green stitching of embroidered wreaths below his shoes. He knew, he knewbetter than to trust Master Galo’s mood, so peppy, so eager, so cagey. Master’s gonna drop the act like a heavy fist down on their heads and Evan might almost be sickly satisfied if not for how a traitorous nausea is curling in his gut to swallow the rage, if not for how his whole family is trembling around him, if not for how he’d almost – almost – begun to wonder if Master was…different.

At least this stupid, stupid, stupidpunchline is about to be called. Cold comfort now with how chipper Master is, how he can barely contain himself with the sweet satisfaction of it all, to watch his slaves quiver on the cusp of long-awaited suffering. Evan just hopes its everything Master’s fucking dreamed of.

~ ~

Lilah is so confused that she wants to cry.

Usually, the tension would strain every muscle tight, fighting her mind that kept trying to Go Away, ‘cause it wasn’t time yet. She is about to cry, a little wetness escaping, wiped away quickly. She can’t cry yet, she can’t even cry yet ‘cause nothing even happenedyet and that’s bad. She can cry later. There’ll be plenty of time to cry, soon. Soon, will go Quiet and she won’t be worried about anything.

She doesn’t understand.

It’s so stupid to be confused. This just…used to be so simple and it hasn’t been the same recently and…she doesn’t get it. Evan was right, of course Evan was right, he’s always been right about Mistress things. She should’ve trusted him more about Master. But…but he…

He seemed different.

She’s never been good at the games, not like everyone else. She’s stupid about the rules anyway, and there’s so much that the rest of them all understand so easily, that they’ve learned from so many years of being good. She should know that there will always be a game. There will always be a rule. A test.

But still. He really did seem like he might be different than Mistress. His games were so very different that Lilah would wonder if he had a game at all. That’s stupid. But she had a good reason to be! Master had always been kind to her. He’d always smiled at her, real big, and he said such nice things about her work! He gave her lots of rewards too. Lots of rest and new kinds of food and special tools to make her yard-work easier, even though Lilah had always done a good job without those things.

“It’ll help you as a thanks for being so good at everything”, Master had told, all his teeth showing.

She should’ve known that was a lie. It had to be. But she’d wantedso badly to believe it.

Master never got mad when she went Quiet – kind of sad, or what looked like sad, and watchful and worried. But never mad. He’d never get mad at Lilah, even though he’s been mad at the others, been mad at Evan, even though they’re all better at this. Good enough for years. Good enough, at least, to not be punished all the time, day and night, beaten into place ‘cause she always had to be reminded of how not-good she is.

Bad girl.

Why? She just wants to know why and wanting hurts. Her heart hurts. It’s not a scared-hurt. It’s a sad-hurt, heart sore and throbbing wildly. She feels sadder than scared and that’s new and stupid but…she really did think Master woulddo something bad when nobody has been really bad and now he isgoing to and…she just doesn’t know why. But he is. And he’s happyabout it. Evan would say it’s ‘cause Master enjoys it, that he enjoys playing with them the way he does. She should listen to Evan. Why doesn’t she listen? Why can’t she ever keep up?

‘Cause you’re a bad girl.

Master’s voice rings suddenly through the room, the noisewhere there was no noise pulling Lilah’s breath in a little too quickly and Sasha barely twitches at her side. Lilah swallows a whimper before it escapes her dry throat and just…listens to Master.

Please, let him get it over with quickly,she begs to someone, anyone.

Please let it be quick.

And, horribly, selfishly.

Please.

Let him choose someone else first.

~ ~

“Ok! First off, Merry Christmas Eve to everyone.”

A silence hovers briefly and Sasha stumbles to say “Merry Christmas, Master Galo” in sync with the rest of the group. Their chorus, fortunately, hides her stammer. Master has not seemed to mind her stumbling speech but right now? There’s no doubt it that every broken phrase would tally up in whatever pain is to be doled out now.

“Thanks! So, you’re all probably a little confused by the lack of celebrations. I know my aunt had tons of parties but…that’s just not me. I don’t love parties at the best of times and I really don’t love Christmas. But I figured, hey, I can do the holiday my way and you’ve all been a big part of changing how I feel about it. Everyone’s been awesome about decorating the house beautifully and making things feel cheerful, so, thanks so much for that. I really appreciate it.”

There is another beat of silence before Nyla, sweet, sacrificing, perfect Nyla, glides forward a couple of steps, Greyson carefully sidestepping to fill the space in front of Lilah, and kneels at Master Galo’s feet before taking up his hand to kiss it.

“Thank you, Master, for your kindness. We are all honored to serve you in whatever manner you desire.”

Sasha thinks, for the first time in a while, of how starkly largehis hand is next to Nyla’s head. Cold sweat beads on her brow as she measures those palms as though examining them for the first time, how when Nyla’s lips touch the backs of Master’s fingers, the span of his knuckles bridges her brow from temple to temple. He could crushNyla’s face with a firm squeeze, shatter her delicate little nose with one heavy slap, how could Sasha everhave forgotten that, even for a moment?

And now, the little blonde woman is deliberately putting herself at those heavy feet, pulling that meaty hand towards her lovely face, flattering and appeasing, indicating that she has chosen to go first for whatever this is. She’s so brave. She’s so good. Sasha loves her so much and she wants to save her so badly. Sasha wants to curl around Nyla’s kneeling form until Nyla is hidden away by Sasha’s arms and back and she’s safe from the pain which frightens Sasha so much and which Nyla so plainly does not deserve. But she is petrified and spineless and would only make it worse.

Oh, Nyla.

Greyson.

Lilah.

Evan.

Me.

Don’t react poorly!

Sasha blinks furiously until her tears settle behind her lids, pulsing with restrained grief.

Don’t make this worse than it’s already going to be.

~ ~

Greyson should’ve been the one to approach Master Galo first.

He has a…dialogue with Master and either way, he is older, more practiced, should be quicker to know what to do. But Nyla has caught onto being what she should be in half the time it took him and has thrown herself into the line of fire with her typical grace. It sickens Greyson that he was too slow and let her take the burden.

Currently, Master’s glee seems to have abated at Nyla’s gesture and, seemingly, was not replaced with rage. Yet. He blinks down at Nyla’s upturned, sweetly submissive, face and smiles softly at her. No smirk. No secretive glint in his eye. Nyla must have done the right thing, yet again. Master has yet to…use Nyla in that way but he clearly acknowledges the faultless state of her service and it softens him towards her.

“That’s…wonderful, Nyla. Very good! Hey, while you’re down there, can you help me pull these boxes out?”

Before Nyla has even crawled over to the bottom of the towering Christmas tree, Master has crouched beside her, scooping out brightly wrapped packages from below the swoop of the low-dangling branches and jangling the glittering ornaments. Brushing pine needles off his pants, Master piles them, gesturing Nyla to copy him, onto an armchair before swinging back towards them all to clap his hands decisively and grin once more.

“Alrighty, then. So! Nyla?”

“Yes, Master Galo?”

Soft, immediate, lilting.

“I guess since you’re, uh, right here, I’ll give you your gift first. Uh, can you hold your arms out, Nyla? This one’s a bit big.”

Greyson has barely time to blink before Master has practically dropped one of the largest packages, a box of wide, flat golden cardboard topped with plaid bows, into Nyla’s quickly outstretched arms.

What?

“Sorry! Sort of threw it at you, didn’t I? You can go back to the rest, Nyla. Greyson, you’re up, my man.”

What?

Greyson’s feet carry him forward, arms already extending, body reliably obedient even while his brain is lagging.

“Here y–, oh, no need for both arms. Heh, sorry, dude, your gift’s not Nyla-big.”

What does that mean?

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t need to understand, Greyson reminds himself harshly, he only needs to obey. So he remains blank, cups his palms as Master Galo places a little sleek black box, neatly bound in white ribbon, into Greyson’s palm. It is not professionally wrapped, Greyson absently notes, the tape was raggedly snapped off the dispenser and the bow is a bit crooked. He glides into place back at Nyla’s side, poised like emotionless pillars with their…gifts held stiffly in front of them as each person is called forth. Lilah, then Sasha, and, finally, Evan; all are handed a package, unique in size and decoration and received quietly and quickly before they are re-assembled as they were before, only now clinging to…

Most likely, the instruments of their imminent torture.

Or, as Master Galo is saying…

“Awesome. Alrighty, so, you’ve all got your gifts now. That’s good. You’ve probably noticed that they’re kind of sloppy. I wrapped them myself and…let’s just say, I wasn’t born to be a decorator. You’re just gonna have to live with it, heh. So…if you guys wanna sit down, like, on the couches or on the floor or, like, wherever you feel most comfortable opening your gifts? Just, uh, yeah. Everyone just go ahead and enjoy!”

All are silent and it is Nyla who folds elegantly to the floor and first begins to peel the wrapping back, small hands fluttering like butterflies as she unwinds the ribbon. Greyson folds alongside her, hesitating a brief moment as he catches Master’s eyes on his knees and then, slowly, sits on the ground and folds his ankles neatly in front of him. Master looks pleased when he sits this way rather than kneeling and Greyson’s jaw slightly slackens as he settles in beside Nyla. Her quick grace disguises her shaking to all but Greyson, whose arm touches her shoulder and absorbs her tremors. He leans, barely, against her, steadying her (and, honestly, himself as well) while he neatly disassembles his own package.

His box is the smallest, Greyson has noted, so he is the first to lift the lid and find…

A pair of glasses.

They are frameless at the bottom, rimmed in delicate wire that is stained redder than a ripe apple. It matches the hue of Greyson’s favored necktie. Spongy black nose pads and grips at the tips of the temples show how the eyewear would grip the face comfortably. Coiled beneath the neatly folded pair, clipped to the ends of each temple, is a fine chain, dozens of miniscule links glittering silver beneath the clear lenses.

They are…beautiful.

Greyson cannot do much more than blink. He can tell that everyone else is unwrapping slowly, glancing from the corners of their lowered eyes at his reaction and he shouldreact in some way. But he…he can’t…

What?

He finds that he is trembling as he plucks the frames from their nest of silk cleaning cloths, cradling them like they will shatter if he breaths wrong. His eyes raise almost without intent, catching Master Galo openly watching him, a soft hesitance weighing his gaze. Greyson nearly starts but Master gets ahead of a potential apology by gesturing vaguely at Greyson’s gift.

“I, uh, I peeked through B –…through your records and found your prescription. It said five years ago and I don’t know if your eyes changed since then and, well, if I’d gotten an appointment for you, this wouldn’t have been a surprise. Someone recommended I make them a tad sharper and so I did but, if you wanna adjust them or if they’re too strong just tell me… Anyways, I, uh, I really hope they see as nice as they look, heh…oh, yeah, and the chain is to keep them around your neck and the cloths are yours. Like, in case that wasn’t clear, all the stuff in the box – hell, the boxif you want it – is all yours. But, I hope you enjoy them, Greyson.”

Greyson cannot speak. He opens his mouth, moves his lips, and nothing emerges. Trembling more pronounced now, his hands pull off and fold his glasses and tuck them into his breast pocket, he does not choose to do this. He does not decide to lift the new frames to his face, unfold them, slide them into place and loop the chain behind his neck. He blinks as his body reconnects with awareness again, the missed moments of automation causing him to startle bodily with the clean, unscratched, clarity of the room before him.

There is…something inside Greyson’s chest. It is like a living thing, pressing, stretching the wall of his sternum. It takes his heart and his lungs and squeezes, mercilessly.

It hurts.

The animal is resurrected, awakened from a peaceful sleep to roar in his blood, unfamiliar with the way his insides are warm and loose and tingle like his legs after rising from hours on his knees, all the blood rushing back to the numb area. He feels and it aches and his throat is tightened by the same animal grip on his innards.

The tight, the hot, the blood-rush, the suddenness of the old tenderness is tearing at Greyson and, suddenly, all he wants to do is weep. No hollow, scraped-out loss prompting the swollen heat pounding like a pulse behind his lids. A press, inexorable as it is tender, against his sternum is cracking him from the inside and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He abandons his typical protocol of vacancy to bite his inner cheek savagely, allowing the throb to distract and dull the other strange unfamiliar anguish below his ribs.

It hurts but Greyson can take hurt. This anguish which is not anguish will be smothered too and once he allows the ache in his gnawed mouth to ebb, he is clearer again.

~ ~

Evan is pissed.

At least, he’s really trying to be. What he really feels, right now, is confused as hell. Which angers him more, ‘cause he can take his own pain and humiliation and the games that never ever end but this is, admittedly, pretty fucking weird.

He will, in his own mind, confess to being tense, if not really surprised, about his box being the biggest. But as he lifts his…gift out of its mountain of tissue paper, he can’t feel much of anything. It’s like his head is disconnected from his shoulders and his hands move on their own to unfurl a frankly enormous blanket, at least six feet in all directions, fluffy and hedgerow-green and thick and light all at the same time.

The first thing he registers is how soft it is.

He almost starts when he feels the texture of the blanket, fingers sinking into the tufts of…what is it? Evan doesn’t know, he’s never touched something this soft. He almost expects it to melt like soap-foam between his palms but it settles, barely a weight against his folded legs. It feels nice.

Evan snaps back to clarity, lowly roving a glance around to the others. They’ve all opened their own gifts and they’re all as confusing as Evan’s. They all look like gifts, but real gifts. The sort which Mistress’ “friends” would exchange during those god-awful parties. Sasha is cradling something bright and delicate in her hands, Nyla’s got something to wear perhaps, and Lilah’s unwrapping something fluffy. He can’t clearly see what Greyson got in that little box but he’s oddly silent.

Evan tries to stay sharp. He needs to be sharp, to be aware, nothing is more dangerous than getting distracted right now. Nothing is…good about getting a present. But he’s drawn like a throat to thirst by the softness in his lap and sets his jaw before cautiously lifting the blanket like a cape over his shoulders. Tufts tickle the nape of his neck, gentle bulk shielding his torso from the open air, and Evan feels more than allows his spine to relax just a fraction.

It feels so good. He likes it so much and he hates that he likes it as much as he does. Yet even as he straightens his spine and keeps his eyes down, he cannot help but turn his cheek just barely so that the tufts brush, feather-like, against the skin.

Liking this is fucking dangerous, of course it is, of course it is, it must be fucked up somehow. But Evan is tired of caring right no. And so leans further into the softness. Maybe he’ll pay later but if he really got this as a…giftthen he’s gonna damn well enjoy it like one.

~ ~

Nyla is stalling.

Yes, she’s offered herself first. Yes, she made a show of opening her package. But…she hesitates and keeps twitching away when she tries to peel back the mountain of red tissue. She smooths is back in layers, slippery as onionskin, crackling at even the littlest movement. She’s afraid of what she’s going to find and she has no excuse for her delay but that fear which keeps her fussing with the final sheet of tissue.

It is only once Greyson has lifted his gift out its box that she finally, unforgivably late, folds back the final barrier. It is in the same moment that Greyson’s gift becomes clear in her periphery, unmistakably a new pair of eyeglasses, when she comprehends what lies before her in the box.

A dress.

A dress?

It is a dress and it’s a pretty dress and it looks expensive and it’s a real gift and Nyla almost doubles over, spasming fingers gripping the edge of the box in an effort to remain grounded. She hides her tremble with busy movements, not really thinking but allowing her body to take over and carefully pull the dress from its crinkly nest.

Nyla knows little about clothing except from what Mistress Bethany and her guests wore but she knows what quality cloth feels like and this dress is certainly a cut of the finest. It has a supple, satiny feel but it isn’t silk, more like good linen in a soft blue imprinted with a pattern like white and grey stitching. It is crisp and flat and smells a little like vanilla when she moves it. Pleated skirt which could hit just below the knee, elbow-length sleeves, slimming waist. It has a wide neckline which doesn’t plunge to her breasts but instead would barely sit above the collarbones and sit halfway down the shoulder to show off their delicate swoop. It would show off the arc of her neck perfectly.

She would look so elegant in this dress, appearing so proper and almost fancy in a modest way. It is how she has dreamed of looking, sometimes, when she neatens her apron and flicks lint off her drab, black, uncomfortable uniform. In this dress, she would look as perfect as she behaves.

Absently, she strokes the along the mysterious fabric, wondering what it would feel like against all of her flesh. She nearly shivers with pleasure at the very thought of sliding that material over her head, zipping it up nice and neat. She suppresses a second, cold, shiver when a gratitude rises, unbidden, at her presence amongst the rest of the group. Mistress Bethany had never forced any of them to strip more than a shirt in front of one another but…who knew what Master Galo might command? If they had been alone when Master Galo gave her this, she would certainly assume she was meant to unclothe and slip into her giftstraight away. Display it for him. Looking pretty in it for him.

Master has paid close attention to them all, that much is abundantly clear. Nyla glances to the side and sees how Sasha is mesmerized by her gift. It is some sort of hair ornament, a flat clip to bridge the top of the head, a glorious, darkly polished wood that had been carved with an inlay of golden roses. It won’t just hold back the cascade of ebony hair, it will brighten the wavy length which Sasha combs between her fingertips, which soothes her so. Which one would notice if one watched her for long enough. Sasha’s fingers fly between hair and the ornament, sunk fully back upon her heels as she turns the clip over in her fingers like it is glass, watching the firelight catch all the petals and vines of gold.

Sasha loves her hair. She loves her gift.

It is all gift, Nyla realizes. All of her clothes are a gift. Seeing properly enough to do tasks obediently, having glasses at all, is a gift. Everything they are allowed to have is already a gift, graciously given on strict conditions. Nyla can go without her gift – her clothes – at any time Master Galo desires.

Nyla soothes her fluttering pulse with a low breath, stilling her hands so they won’t seize the fabric and scrunch that ironed hem. She is here, right now, with her family. She traces the pattern with her eyes, counting the facsimile of stitches on the bodice as she allows that thought to ease the edge of sudden anxiety. There is absolutelyno sense in torturing herself with scenarios like that, no sense at all. There was no need. Even…ifsuch an idea did come to Master Galo, Nyla would give him no reason to play it out. She was perfect, she had always been perfect, and she will continue to be perfect; it is the only thing she can control. Nobody will have any reason to hurt her. Oh, Master can hurt her, of course he can, but he won’t have a reason to do it.

She won’t evergive anyone a reason.

~ ~

Galo hears a giggle and the surprise causes him to glance up from the game he’s been pretending to play on his phone, sprawled on the armchair several feet away from the group.

Lilah has opened her gift. A little red winter hat, ear-flaps and all, topped with a cotton puff which Lilah is poking at. She has pressed a hand to her mouth but is still grinning through her fingers as she pokes and ruffles the little poofy ball on the hat, on the matching gloves, on the tassels of the matching scarf. Lilah has lost herself in an almost open delight, youth bubbling through her nerves as she bats at her gift. Her bruises have long faded, all the cuts pinked and flat with age, so her freckles are stark. The absence of wounds makes her look so much younger than her eighteen years and her glowing grin gives her a childish glow.

Tears well in his eyes and he has to press his knuckles against his lids as he tries to swallow back the ache in his throat.

“Thank you so much, Master Galo! Thank you!”

Galo hopes his eyes are clear as he glances up again and sees that Lilah is the one who spoke. The others are clearly carefully looking anywhere but at either Lilah or Galo and, to be honest, he’s a little shocked at what amounts to an outburst from Lilah. She is trembling violently but is also clutching her gift tightly to her chest, gazing at Galo with…gratitude, heavy as worship, in her eyes.

Her grins widely at her, his gesture seeming to brighten that gratitude to a feverish glow. It’s all too much for Galo all of a sudden and he has to look away again so the tears won’t betray him and leak down his face, hoping to God that his reply doesn’t sound too choked.

“You’re welcome, kiddo. I’m…really glad you like it.”

i’m gonna throw myself into a pit now! hope ya’ll liked it!

#this is a spinoff of haro-whump's genius i want ya'll to acknowledge that #haro-whumps #gw #slavery #whump #whumpee #group whump #caretaker #spinoff fic #references to non-con #trauma #writing #past abuse #references to past non-con #panic attack #healing #fear #dissociation

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duker42 · 5 years ago

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💜Cure for Insomnia💜 Part 2 of 2 Levi x Reader

💜Cure for Insomnia💜 Part 2 of 2

Part 1

Y/N’s POV:

He always looks younger than his age, but when he’s not frowning, it gives him an air of innocence. He has been asleep for the last three hours. His breathing is steady, rhythmic. I have quietly observed him since falling asleep. Not wanting to disturb him, I haven’t moved. But then again, it’s not like watching him is a hardship.

While not everyone would consider the cold, distant Captain attractive, Levi appeals to me. His ear length raven colored locks cover his face, and his undercut is alway fresh looking. The stormy grey eyes that impassively observe are hard to look away from, even when he glares at you. While he is considered short by most, I don’t understand why people comment on it. Extremely fit, his lean, muscular body screams with the results of his years of training and fighting. If he were more approachable, I would pursue a relationship with him. I scoff to myself, it more likely that the titans will suddenly stop eating humans.

I suddenly realize that those grey eyes have been watching me for Lord only knows how long. I meet his eyes steadily as I resist the urge to blush. It’s not like I wasn’t ordered by the Commander to watch him. I have no reason to feel embarrassed, even if my thoughts weren’t professional.

“Did I sleep long enough for you to leave me alone?” He asks, his voice husky from the sleep.

“You slept for about three hours. That isn’t a full night’s sleep sir.” I carefully answer, unsure of what mood he wakes up in.

“It is for me. It’s the most I’ve slept in one go in weeks.” He sits up and rotates his shoulders. Getting up, he begins to pull on his uniform.

“Sir, please don’t.” I stop him by putting a hand on his arm. Looking at me, he silently demands to know why. “Dress in casual clothes, something more comfortable that the constricting uniform. Do you have sleep pants or shorts?”

Grumbling he goes to his wardrobe and digs through it. Pulling out a pair of older grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, he holds them up to me for approval. When I nod, he quickly dresses and puts his uniform away neatly.

Marching out of his room, I see him settle himself behind his desk. Picking up a pen, he begins to work on the stacks of paperwork taking up real estate on his desk. I look at him, frowning in disapproval. “Captain, you aren’t supposed to being doing paperwork.” The stubborn man doesn’t even spare me a glance. “Y/N, I enjoyed the little massage, and I slept for a few hours. I feel better than I have in weeks. I have had issues sleeping practically my entire life, so it’s as good at it’s going to get for now. Either pick up some paperwork and help or get some sleep.”

I sighed. I knew this was going to take time. But I won’t push it the first night. Settling on his couch, I drift off to sleep, letting the sounds of the pen scratching against the paper relax me. I woke up with the sun starting to rise through the window in his office. A blanket was covering me and a steaming cup of tea sat before me on the table beside the sofa. Levi was not in the office. Sitting up and rubbing my eyes, I look around, and turn when the door to his bedroom opened and the Captain walked out, his pristine uniform in place as he finishes tying his cravet around his neck.

“Good, your awake. the tea is for you. Don’t worry, I’ve only had the one cup of tea when I got yours. Go take a shower and get ready. Breakfast is in thirty minutes.” He walks to his desk and sits down. “Meet me back here after you finish getting ready.”

**Time Skip**

After spending the day running through Captain Levi’s schedule, I am unsure how the man doesn’t sleep. From the paperwork, to cleaning, to the squad training, to his own personal three hour workout, I am ready to drop from just trying to keep up with him.

Resting my head against my propped up hand, I’m honestly too tired to eat. Lazily pushing the food around on my plate, I feel Levi nudge me. Turning my tired eyes on him, he motions down to my plate and just says, “Eat.”, and continues his own meal.

On our way back to his office, he stops in the hallway and turns to me. “Go and get something to change into.” Rolling his eyes at my bewildered expression, he explains. “You’re observing me again, right idiot? Might as well be comfortable.”

After grabbing my necessities for a shower and changing, I find myself back in the Captain’s office. Empty, I use the opportunity to browse the collection of novels on the bookshelf by the fireplace. Surprisingly, its shelves are lined with a broad range of novels, scientific journals and even how-to manuals. It seems that he either likes to appear well read, or Levi has an intense love for absorbing the written word. Choosing a book, I thumb through the well worn pages, stopping to read passages that catch my attention.

When a door opening breaks my immersion in the crime thriller, I look up to see the Captain dressed in loose lounging pants and shirt. Toweling his wet hair, he motions behind him. “Shower is free. A towel’s on the counter.” I grab my bag and towards the bedroom, when he places a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “I, uhhhh, took a longer shower tonight. So you can count it as relaxing.” Nodding, I walk past him and close the door.

As I strip and stand under the hot spray of water, a small grin crosses my face, wondering if the Captain took a longer shower than normal because he took my other advice. This would be the place for it if he did. A red tint covers my body that has nothing to do with the water temperature as my mind wanders. Images of Levi standing here leaning against the wall with water cascading down his body fill my mind. His elegant hand, roaming his body with no intention of cleaning, stopping when it reaches it’s destination and begins to stroke the ridged skin....Shaking my head, I push the thoughts away and quickly run through my showering ritual.

Dressing, I repack my bag and tidy the bathroom, going as far as wiping down the shower stall for the notoriously fastidious man. I place the dirty towel in the proper basket and walk back to his office, expecting to battle with him over working after dinner.

To my pleasant surprise, I find the Captain seated on his sofa. A tea set placed on the table before it and beside the tray, an elegantly carved chess set. Walking towards him, I cock an eyebrow at the tea set, sending him a questioning look.

“Before you start, it’s camomile” He grumbles as he pours two cups. Handing one to me, he sits back and takes a sip. “Do you play?” He questions, nodding towards the chess pieces.

“I do, but not very well I’m afraid.”

“Good, I’m tired of Eyebrows winning. Let’s play.”

We spend several hours pouring over the board, strategizing and sacrificing pawns to advance. Although most of the time is silent, Levi surprises me by randomly throwing out questions in his blunt manner.

“Are you trying to distract me?” I question after the latest question from him about my life, as I contemplate my next move.

Clicking his tongue, he moves a Bishop into position. “Idiot, I can be social.” Causing me to laugh at the rude answer.

After beating me for the third time, he stands and begins to pack away the set. Walking to the bookshelf to place it back in it’s proper place, he orders “Go get ready for bed.”

Not moving, I try to understand his reasoning behind his demand. Turning back towards me he frowns at my lack of movement. “Y/N, go get ready for bed.” His voice a bit harsher, more authoritative. Silently, I demand an explanation from him. This is my observation and I was the one in charge.

Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose as he explains. “You are exhausted. You need to sleep.” He holds a hand up to stop me before I can do more than open my mouth to argue. “I will go lay down with you on that shitty bed. I won’t leave it, I swear. I will keep track of how long I stay awake for you. Now, please go.”

Realizing he’s right, that I have to get some sleep, I get up and go to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I come out, the sheets have been turned down, ready to me to slide into them. Levi quickly preforms his own nightly ritual and comes over to bed, sitting on the edge. Turning to look at me, his eyes search mine for discomfort at the situation. Finding none, he turns back and extinguishes the lamp, throwing the room into darkness. Laying back, I feel him fold his hands behind his head and breathe slowly, relaxing his body. Drowsy, I turn to face away from him, quickly falling into a deep sleep after muttering a quiet “Goodnight.”

**Time Skip**

Slowly opening my eyes, I wake up. Confusion clouds my mind at the unfamiliar room. As I blink and the fog of sleep lifts, I remember falling asleep beside Levi. Soft light filters through the edges of the dark curtains, signifying the beginning of a new day. I wonder how many hours Levi let me sleep while he laid next to me. As I go to move, I realize there is a weight, holding me in place. Reaching down, I feel a warm arm around my stomach, fingers gripping my side. A body, radiating heat, pressed up against my backside, and a cold foot in between mine own warm feet. His face is pushed into the back of my neck, the hot air washing over me as he breathes out. Stirring slightly, he pulls me closer to him as he burrows down into my neck and innocently rubs against me in his sleep. A small contented hum comes from his chest as he settles back down.

Smiling to myself, I relax into the mattress. I can question him when he wakes. Still, being awake causes me to shift more than I would if I were asleep. Trying to stretch my back out a bit causes me to freeze. When I moved, Levi responded in his sleep, nudging a certain part of his body against my butt. Moving again to try and get comfortable, he brushed against me again with slightly more force. Red faced, I vow to lay like a statue until he wakes up, not wanting to explain why I caused him to grind his ‘morning salute’ against me if he were to wake up now.

Not too much later, a low groan comes from the raven haired man as he begins to stir. Tightening his arm around me, I feel his muscles contract with a small stretch, and his long lashes tickle my neck as he opens his eyes.

“Good morning.” I call out softly.

Humming slightly he begins to pull away from me, rolling over onto his back. Following him, I turn onto my side, facing him. He closes his eyes again and lets out a sigh.

“Damn...” is all he says.

Pushing myself up, I prop on an elbow and look at him.

“I fell asleep right after you did.”

When I didn’t respond, he looks over and snorts at my shocked expression.

“Yeah, I never would have believed it either. You said goodnight and immediately fell asleep. I remember rolling onto my side and that was it.” He continues, shooting a quick glance over to me before looking back up at the ceiling.

“Huh....that’s great! You just slept for 9 hours! How do you feel?” In my enthusiasm, I wiggle closer to him, wide eyed and smiling.

Rolling his eyes at me he grumbles. “Fine. I slept great. Now I have another damn problem.”

I tilt my head in confusion. What’s the problem? He slept for a full night! If we can repeat it tomorrow, he’s on his way to being fully rested.

Glowering at me he spits out. “Are you going to sleep next to me every night?”

“Oh.....well....ummmm” I can’t think of what to say.

“Yeah....Even if you did agree to sleep next to me, that just causes me more problems.” Levi’s voice is low, mumbling as if embarrassed.

“What’s the other problem?”

Looking at me incredulously, he shakes his head. “Really? I know you felt it.”

“Oooooohhhhhh” I blush as I realize exactly what he is referring to. Quickly waving away his concern I reply. “That’s natural. Don’t worry about that.”

Turning towards me and propping up to look me the eyes, his next words excite me. “Not for me. Especially since I ‘relaxed’ in the shower last night.”

“Well, we are adults.” I ventured, looking away from him. “I cured your insomnia, I’m sure I can cure your other issue, if you want.”

Pulling me closer to him, he rubs against me, pushing his issue against my hip. “Oh I want.”

The End.

Mobile MasterList

@emilyackerman78

#captain levi #levi ackerman #snk levi #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #levi aot #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #levi heichou #captain levi x reader #levi fanfiction #snk fanfiction

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ziracona · 5 years ago

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Pssst. What's your favorite dumb image/meme?

Aww geeze i dunno if I have just one. I love a whole bunch of classic vines. Memes though oof there so many let me think. There’s so many. “They had us in the first half” & “so that was a fkn lie” & the “wack” and “why would X do this?” Eric Andre meme, free real estate, sometimes things that are expensive are worse, “that doesn’t sound right but I don’t know enough about X to dispute it,” the conspiracy it’s always sunny thing, the blinking white guy & the judge mental/disappointed 3-part image of the same dude. “Why weren’t you at elf practice?!” The Kronk “it’s all coming together” and “by all accounts, it doesn’t make sense.” “Looks like X is BACK ON THE MENU boys!” & “Never thought I’d die side by side with an X,” Cat reaction pics, “This is beautiful. I’ve looked at this for five hours now,” “Ah shit here we go again,” the gif of that basketball player shaking his head & then being like ‘oof wait u right’ and nodding, the gif from the black bush skit where he knocks over a pitcher of water & flees a conference table, Paul Rudd going “OH SHIT” while the screen wobbles out of control then zaps back to normal & he goes “I’m fine,” “aren’t you tired of being nice(and/or tired of going ape shit—don’t you wanna be nice? Both vers good), emotional support X, act natural. “You are all so stupid,” “it’s about the cones/it’s about the X,” The list goes on. I’m just a big slut for memes. >u< I think these are my two faves I’ve ever made myself:

The Michael & Laurie & Loomis one took a while lol. But tbh I don’t have a fave reaction image or meme I’m sorry there’s too many good ones. I love Toby Maguire spider-man crying. The Ben Wyatt: Human Disaster turned into X other character Human Disaster is great. Sometimes it won’t even be a meme it’ll just be a super fun funny image one person made/drew that shoots me so dead I add it to my phone’s camera roll eternally to just have on hand—case in point, these 3:

Also shoutout to this image for capturing like no other a mood I’ve felt a lot this year lol.

So yeah I know “I don’t have one” is like the literally worst answer to “what’s your favorite” but my heart is just very full of memes I love them all—well, no—but I love so many. TuT if I have an epiphany I’ll add it later but as far as my brain will inform me, I just have like 50 faves. At least you got to be reminded of like a whole household of funny images reading this though! 💙

#ask #anonymous #thanks for asking sorry i have no real answer 😂

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fotostory6t · 4 years ago

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20 rzeczy, które powinieneś wiedzieć o fotograf warszawa

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