#that muscle is beyond broken however

[jennifersminds]

me when i’m left unsupervised

[charnelhouse]

i NEED more of predator loving the size difference between himself and you. I NEED IT.

A/N: Predator x F!Reader. Sex in a prison! Size difference. Pain kink. Semi-public smut.

From behind the steel bars of his prison, T'atha glared at the Android. He had thought it ooman until he had caught the subtle click and whir of machinery beneath its skin. 

"It'd be best if you behaved," it suggested before gesturing to his mate leaning against his arm. "We wouldn't want to introduce her to what we've captured downstairs."

T'atha did not reply but continued to stare flatly. He would not waste his energy. The thing was incapable of fear.

Though he could feel your fingers tremble around his forearm, you showed the Android not a hint of panic. You pinned it with an indifferent expression, and T'atha's chest bloomed with pride.

He had been captured, which, alone, was an embarrassment. But to add insult to injury, you had also been taken. Unthinkable. It was supposed to be a simple task. They were to slip aboard the USCSS Atlas to retrieve stolen eggs from one of his clan's Chiva locations.

However, once you and T'atha had boarded the ship and snuck to the lower level, it had become apparent that one of those eggs had hatched. There was a full-grown kiande amedha loose and very well-fed. The floors and walls were wet with blood. Ooman bodies torn to shreds. Glistening red-pink flesh and the stink of waste. T'atha had not hesitated before dragging you away from the slaughter, but it had been too late. 

The doors to all exits had been locked, and they were cornered like rats.

Several Androids had entered, and while T'atha had removed three of their heads, it had not been enough. They'd struck him with electric batons until his skin and muscle burned and smoked. He had attempted to cover you, but they'd ripped him away.

Your face still bore their marks. A hideous cut slithered across your temple, and T'atha worried it would become infected. Your kind was susceptible to contamination and you did not heal as quickly as Yautja. Last hunt, it had taken you weeks to recover from a broken wrist. He had been deeply distressed over it though he did not tell you that. He was supposed to be your strength, your pillar of courage in dire situations.

He glanced down at where you rested your face against his arm. Your body radiated heat and musky sweat. It was a very ooman flavor and one that he had begun to cherish.

He tucked you closer to him, helping you burrow into his torso as he cradled you possessively.

He had to be strong for you now.

***

A few days had passed and his brethren had not arrived. There was no doubt that his clan would have begun to look for them once their ship had failed to return. It was possible that the Atlas might have traveled too far into space, where the signal from the tracking device implanted in his neck was weak. It could take his brothers a considerable amount of time, and time was something they did not have. 

He was not optimistic about their captor's motives, but he had picked up a few things in the scattered chatter between the Androids and the remaining oomans beyond the prison door. He learned that they had managed to secure the black serpent and were going to deliver it to their superiors. In addition to the beast, the ship's crew would either offer you and T'atha to the leaders on their home planet or feed them to the serpent as incubators. 

With his enhanced hearing, he'd picked up many terms like cross-species experimentation, which did not bode well. 

"What will they do to us?" you asked, nudging his bicep with your cheek. He could smell your hair, the intense floral aroma from the oils you bathed in. It was only muddled by the sharp clash of rust due to the dried blood along your forehead. 

"Study," he replied curtly. He did not want to frighten you and was sure that he would get them out even if his brothers did not arrive in time. Failure would not be an option. 

"Study us?"

He nodded. 

"But I'm just human."

He lowered his head, grazing his jaw across your temple. "You are a mate of a Yautja."

"So?" you grumbled. "Is it because I can take a huge cock?"

Chuckling despite himself, he shook his head and pinched your hip. "Yes. Exactly, little one." He tugged you closer and felt a twinge of guilt at how clammy your skin was. He was constantly checking your temperature and it seemed like you shifted from too hot to freezing by the hour. "Only strong females can handle Yautja."

You smiled, squeezing his knee. He exhaled deeply, grateful you were in a lighter mood. He did not want to voice his true thoughts about what these Androids intended. He straightened his back against the wall, spreading his legs out to stretch his muscles. His posture was ramrod straight - fully aware of everything beyond the walls of their prison.

You had gone silent again, your eyes locked on the sealed door as you chewed on your lower lip. It was a nervous habit he could not break you from, and he worried you'd scar it. He was quite partial to that extra plush tissue around your mouth.

"You must relax," he crooned, stroking a paw down your spine. You shuddered and abruptly rolled onto your back to look up at him.

"Where are the others?" Your voice wastight in your throat. "Tahren? A'ta? A'kaand? They wouldn't leave us like this."

"It's a long journey," he explained. "We are in the Outer Veil."

You scrubbed a hand over your face and whimpered. For a moment, he was worried you would begin to cry. He did not like that. It was a disadvantage for your species. You could quickly shift from joy to terror to profound sadness. Your emotions ran you. 

He would have to remedy it.

Slowly, he crawled forward, covering your body with his own. He met your gaze, his enormous hand palming your cheek. "Rest." His tone was gentle as he spoke. He wanted to calm the heart he could hear thumping wildly beneath your breast. "You must sleep and gather your strength." You blew out a breath, lifting yourself onto your elbows until you were an inch from his face. Your expression was one that he knew too well. Stubborn. 

"I can't."

He drew back, sighing. "Why?"

"There's a fucking xenomorph on this ship, and we are stuck in a cage." Your brow creased as you regarded him with disbelief. "No weapons. No armor. We are dead."

You had fair points, but he'd never admit it. Instead, he would opt to distract you.

Huffing, he wrapped his arms around your waist and bound you to his chest. It was a cheap move on his part. He knew that. You instantly softened the second he began to purr, melting into him. He would not have you terrified or full of worry. It would not serve him. He had to focus, and he would not be able to if you fell apart. 

"The serpents won't touch you," he muttered as he stroked the crown of your skull. Compared to his own, you had such a tiny head. In his arms, it was alarmingly clear how small you were. You were formidable in a fight but against a kiande amedha? You'd be broken or worse - 

T'atha bristled at the thought of one stabbing you with its ovipositor; your chest cracked open. In the quiet darkness of their prison, he held you tighter.  

***

T'atha awoke with you still in his arms. He must have dozed off. Shame coursed through him. He could not afford to sleep, but he'd been awake for days - since they'd been thrown in here.

He blinked through the remaining dregs of his drowsiness. It clung to him like cobwebs, before his vision gradually cleared.

The room was cloaked in shadow apart from the occasional ping of light from the machinery surrounding them. He was certain this place doubled as a lab or medical facility. He studied the walls, the blinking screens, and tools. Nothing he could reach or use as a weapon.

Suddenly, T'atha felt your small hand between his legs. He startled, nearly bucking you off of him. 

"What are you doing?" he hissed, realizing that you had removed your leggings and were bare in his lap.

"Distraction," you replied as you nuzzled your face against his abdominal muscles. Your tongue's warm, damp pressure gliding against his skin before you drew away. 

He grabbed you by the upper arms, jerking you up. He could easily see you in the dark. Your eyes were heavy-lidded, and your mouth parted. He could smell that you were wet. "Now?"

"I want to feel you," you whispered, a note of desperation beneath the words. "I want to…just once…what if they kill-"

He growled - effectively cutting you off. "Do not doubt me. I will get us out and take every one of their heads for it."

"I know," you whined, clutching his neck to pull him towards you. You brushed your mouth along his mandibles before darting your tongue against his own. This was not the time for it, but he understood that your kind often required a sense of intimacy during moments of chaos or fear. He was surprised you'd even be willing to mate in a place where they were being watched. 

Unfortunately, he was not one to deny you especially when you begged as sweetly as you did. 

Perhaps, he could sate you with his tongue and fingers? Perhaps, that would be enough.

In the far corner of his mind, he knew it wouldn't be. The second he could smell you, it was over. It always was.

Without a word, he encircled an arm around your waist and forced you onto your back. You yelped, your fingers digging into his shoulders for leverage. He slid between your thighs, hooking your leg around his waist to keep you spread. Your mouth quirked, the whites of your eyes and teeth bright in the shadows. He would consider you beautiful. You were soft and strange and small. Your features pleased him just as the small ways you exuded bravery did. They were what drew him to you to begin with.

The first moment he had seen you, you had been slick with blood. Your body crouched in front of a small Yautja pup. You had had no alliance with his species. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and yet you had still protected him. 

Later, he would learn that your ship had crashed on a hunting ground. Your superiors had been experimenting on various life forms, including the young Yautja suckling. You'd used the chaos of the crash to save the child, killing whoever got in your way. His clan had offered you sanctuary in payment. 

Now, his gaze raked over you as he brushed his thumb across the plump of your cheek. Yes - you were enticing and honorable and always hungry for him. 

"T'atha," you whimpered, and he braced his arm above your head; his other hand slid beneath your thigh. He lazily scratched at the smooth skin before pushing it back so that your knee hit your chest.

"We do not have the oil," he reminded you. It was a necessary tool for them in moments like this. It allowed you to take him easier, making you hot, soaked, and slightly numb. There were a few instances that they had gone without it, and it was usually when you were loose and drunk with c'ntlip.

You curled a finger around one of his dreads, tugging it so that it sparked the sensitive nerves at his scalp. It bloomed outward before lighting down his back. He was aroused now, his cock hard and unyielding as it rubbed against the folds of your sex. At this point, he would not be able to stop if he tried.

"I don't care," you stated. "I want to feel you. 

Beneath his belt, he gripped himself, pushing his hips forward to drag the head of his cock against your cunt. "Brave one," he praised, rutting lazily between your thighs. "Such a brave girl."

You shivered at his approval, and he began to breach you inch by inch. Almost immediately, your brows met, and your lower lip sucked between your teeth as you inhaled sharply. He was barely inside you, your tight heat only beginning to stretch around him. He stopped and rubbed the side of his mandible against your face. "Relax," he murmured. "You are too tense. I will not fit."

He eased his pelvis back, the tip catching on the entrance of your cunt before he pushed halfway in. You shrieked, your nails biting into the meat of his shoulders. He paused, raising himself and glancing between them to observe where they were joined. He was barely inside you. Though his length glimmered in your wetness, it was not enough. He withdrew, and you made a frustrated noise as you reached for him.

Of course. Even though it hurt, you were determined to complete it.

Wordlessly, he knocked your hands away from him before sliding down your body, hitching your knees over his shoulders. "I will take care of you, little one." He pinned his palm to your belly to hold you still as he purred against your thigh, scraping a tusk along the soft meat of it. He could smell you - the flesh of your sex dark and dripping and swollen for him. It took every ounce of his self-control not to flip you onto your hands and knees and fuck you senseless. "You trust me?"

***

You nearly levitated off the cold, metal floor when T'atha plunged his tongue inside you. It was too much and not enough at once. The sharp edge of his jaws scraped your tender skin, but never enough to pierce it. He lapped at your pussy, sliding the muscle of it from your entrance to your clit. Gingerly, he introduced one of his fingers and then a second. They were thick, calloused and powerful and he was careful when he used them. He moved them slowly, scissoring and petting until you were stretched open. His hand on your belly held you down as he licked you to a climax. It shuddered through you, made you go temporarily blind. He could make you come in seconds with only his fingers and tongue. He'd turned it into a game, a competition of sorts, as if conquering your ooman body held the same thrall as completing his Chiva. He was a brilliant strategist in all facets of his life.

He was beautiful in the way that a giant crocodile was - a bull shark. He dwarfed you with his height and his width; the green-blue scales of his hide that dragged over your flesh.

Even if he was barely touching you, the sight of him crouched between your legs could get you off. His feral dark eyes danced over your form, raking along your tits or belly or your cunt. He loved grazing the dull tips of his claws along your nipple, marveling at the way it beaded and caused you to arch. His long tubular dreads tickled your hips and when you fisted them, he growled like a beast.

In this tiny prison, he was merely a giant in a cage. He filled your vision, wrapped himself around you until you were engulfed by him and the safety he promised. As he sat back on his heels, you forgot to breathe. He was a sight - an Apex predator that had just drank from your cunt as if it was nectar. Your juices coated the lower half os his face. The flickering green and red lights of the machinery, accentuated the rippling muscles of his torso.

You don't know why you asked for this. You were scared. Hormonal. You'd been off for weeks, and this situation felt direr than any others. You trusted him to save you, but nothing was certain. You wanted to be close to him; this was the only way you knew how. 

Lazily, he crawled up your body like an enormous cat. He grazed the side of his face against your own, a deep purr rumbling from his chest. He was molten-heat, skin like the sun, and you clung to it in the frigid, medicinal-smelling room. "The Yautja life is rubbing off on you, my female," he rasped in a rough voice. His fingers moved between your legs, teasing and dipping inside you. "You long to be fucked where they can see us. You do not care?"

"No," you whisper. You didn't. You'd allowed him to take you in front of his brothers once. The both of you drunk off the hunt, and the adrenaline and too much c'ntlip. "They'll be dead soon, anyway," you added as you nipped his jaw. 

He grunted, rutting against the tender flesh of your cunt. He was unbearably hard, and you hungered for it. The pain. The pleasure. The way he could hurt you terribly, but always straddled the line. He made you feel like a precious piece of weaponry in his hands, stroked and touched and held close.

"They will be," he agreed as he began to sink into you. You gasped, clutching at his waist. He was all muscle and unyielding flesh. Your nails bit into his ribs, and it encouraged him. "Relax," he said before lowering his chest, so it crushed your breasts. His heart thumped rhythmically as though trying to mellow out the bird-flutter of your own. He offered you soft, clicking noises - the sound soothing your agitation as he slid deeper and deeper until finally he was buried to the hilt. 

You were speechless. It felt like he was hitting the back of your throat. The pressure inside of you expanded, the tip of him nudging the curve of your womb. You swallowed, screwing your eyes shut as you bit the inside of your mouth through the ache of him. 

He gripped your chin. "No," he tutted. "Open your eyes. I want you to know that it is me who is claiming you."

You did as he asked, even though it was silly. As if it could have been anyone else nearly splitting you in half. 

He chuffed as he began to rock his hips, his thrusts shallow and cautious. "I want you to watch," he clarified further, his pupils eating away at the green of his eyes. "Your cunt will know no other than me."

You nodded, head dropping back against the ground. It hurt - pain shooting up the crown of your skull, but it was nothing compared to how he opened you up. Every snap of his hips branded you, making room for his cock in the small clutch of your heat.

You reached between your legs and felt the flesh of your pussy taut around his thick shaft. You were impaled - entirely at his mercy. He sped up his pace, one hand cupping your ass to lift you higher so he could angle himself down into the mouth of your sex. His strokes steadily became long and powerful. You felt pushed to your limit, your face burning with exertion as he pounded you against the ground. You reached above your head and clasped the steel bars of the cage to hold yourself steady. The space echoed with the squelching noises of your body wetly accepting him. You had outgrown any shame regarding your sex life with T'atha. He had bent you into nearly impossible positions. He could lift you like you weighed nothing, hold you against a wall and fuck you senseless. 

He said what he meant; there was no innuendo, no hinting. He was blunt about his desires just as he was blunt about everything else.

"Let me mount you, little one. You are tempting me."

"I want to lick you again. Get on your back."

He was especially insatiable after a hunt. Only afterward, of course, when he was full of adrenaline, his heart hammering in his throat, and both of you were cut and filthy. He'd bend you over and fuck you until you collapsed, then turn you onto your side, lift your thigh, and slide home again. During a hunt, he was still as a statue, an unshakeable force. He never lost focus of his prey even when you grew bored. He could crouch on a single tree branch for days on end as he surveyed the hunting ground.

But that was simply the Yautja way. 

"Those serpents will not touch you," he snarled into your ear, warm breath fanning over your cheek as he fucked you "I will take their skulls for you..."

You released a high-pitched noise on a fierce stroke of his cock, and it aroused him further. Abruptly, he sat back on his heels and hauled you up with him so you could straddle his lap and wrap your legs around his waist. He held you as he thrust upward, spearing into your tiny body and hitting an even softer, wetter part of you. You croaked, fingers scrambling until you threw your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest. You were a doll at this point. Helpless and limp and at his mercy.

"Do not go quiet on me now, mate," he crooned as he pawed between your legs, the pads of his fingers brushing the bead of your clit before slipping against your folds that were stretched around him. Immediately, the pleasure burst through the whole of your pelvis. Your cunt clamped down on him, your back arching in his embrace. "There," he said, trilling in a way that coaxed you, pulling you closer. "Perhaps, I will finally fuck you into exhaustion."

You could do nothing, but nod and then whine his name like a broken record. You were a mess. He teased your pleasure out, a climax followed by another—small spikes of raw sensation in your core as you flexed around him. 

He changed positions again, flipping you onto your knees, hand on your lower back as he forced your cheek to the floor. He entered you in a single stroke, his size still shocking regardless of how wet and fucked out you were. His hips rammed against your ass, his grip harsh on the nape of your neck to pin you. His cock pulsed inside the narrow channel of your cunt - thrumming with the same fury as his heartbeat - as your own. He was reaching his end; you could hear it in his grunts, the deep, unsteady breathing. 

When he came, he growled out your name and it sounded utterly primal in the way his tongue dipped over the letters. He had told you once that sex with his oomani-di had been unexpected. 

"Your body brings only pleasure as if it was made for it," he rumbled, dragging his tusks along your shoulder. "Soft and wet and tight. Yautja mating is nothing like this...nothing at all."

You glanced over your shoulder, blinked up at him, utterly spent. When he eased himself out of you, there was the rush of his spend. You slid your hand down between your legs and felt it. It was warm, and your cunt was swollen and aching. Even so your skin remained on fire, there was a strong need to be rinsed in ice. He gingerly shifted you onto your back, squeezing your hips before once more blanketing you with his body. He nuzzled your jaw, the side of your neck. You longed for him even as he bore his weight above you, his abdominal muscles tensing against your stomach.

"Did I hurt you?" he murmured as his hand found yours against your sex. His thumb grazed your folds tenderly. It was always surprising when T'atha treated you like a fine instrument, desperate to ensure you did not break. It was why he was covering you with his body now, using his hide as protection when you were at your most vulnerable.

"No," you replied though you'd be sore for days. After a second, you added mischievously: "I think we could go again-"

"You jest!" he returned, his tone rubbed in disbelief. He slapped you lightly on the ass. "Are you ill? Surely - you cannot -"

"I'm joking," you replied, and T'atha narrowed his eyes and flared his mandibles. Humor often went above Yautja heads.

"You're impossible-"

Suddenly, a siren erupted in the room. Emergency lights flared - coating them both in red. 

"Either your brothers are here, or the Xeno has escaped," you sighed as you reached for your leggings. 

A voice sounded over the intercom that you recognized. A'ta. Beneath his gravelly timbre, you could hear the dying gasp of the captors unlucky enough to have been caught by the other Yautja. You hoped they'd left some for T'atha or he'd be a nightmare for weeks.

"Brother," he greeted warmly. "Only you would waste precious time copulating with your oomani-di instead of planning your escape."

You crossed your arms over your chest. "That fuck knows my damn name."

Ignoring your remark, T'atha scowled at A'ta's insult. "He is mistaken. I had a plan."

You patted him on the bicep. "I know you did."

[vmpiires]

﹆₊ 腹‧₊˚ PISSIN' ME OFF, KINJI HAKARI

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ you purposely piss hakari off. wc, 2.65K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. this is my FIRST time writing for this man so don't beat me if this is inaccurate. ty @5kstxrz for giving me this idea (that’s twin mkay)

␥ tags. drinking, smoking, smut (omg wow), play fighting, female anatomy, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

it was evident to everyone around that your relationship with hakari was filled with passive-aggressive behavior. even though it was apparent that you both cared for each other deeply, the continuous exchange of sarcastic remarks and subtle jabs made your friends and even strangers concerned about your well-being.

the constant bickering between you two was so intense that people often wondered if you were caught in a toxic relationship that you couldn't escape from. despite the love you shared, the tension between you two was palpable and gave rise to many uncomfortable situations.

hakari was a complex individual who had a penchant for indulging in vices. he was known to be a habitual gambler, a smoker, and a drinker. within his many addictions, he had a charismatic personality that drew people towards him. one of his peculiar habits was to take bets on trivial things, such as how many times you'd would insult him before expressing affection towards him. squeezing his waist, telling him how much you love him.

"you're just full of surprises, huh?" hakari chuckles at you as he kisses your head, returning the hug you had given him. "you still got a big head, though. nothin' can change that."

"like your head isn't bigger," you sucked your teeth before flashing a smile at your boyfriend. hakari would release you and stick his middle finger up at you before plopping down onto the couch, the piece of furniture grunting as his weight pressed down onto it.

once you walked into the apartment, the sound of glass shattering caught your attention. the pungent smell of a joint filled the air, and you could see hakari holding it loosely between her fingers. as you took a few more steps, you noticed a puddle of saké on the ground, which emanated an earthy aroma. the scene appeared to be somewhat chaotic, with broken glass, the smell of cannabis and spilled alcohol adding to the disarray.

as you noticed his tan face go pale, you instinctually reached out with your hand and gently brushed your palm against his cheek, hoping to rouse him from his slumber. however, the moment your skin came into contact with his, you couldn't help but notice how icy cold he felt. you paused for a moment, your hand still resting on his cheek, as you realized that something was not quite right.

suddenly, his eyes shot open, and he stared back at you with a look of confusion and surprise, as if you had just startled him out of a deep sleep. his blonde hair was tousled and messy, and his eyes were still cloudy with sleep. nevertheless, his gaze seemed to bore into you, and you couldn't help but feel a little unnerved by his sudden awakening.

"what the hell.." hakari let out a deep groan as he pushed himself up from the couch, lightly kicking the shattered glass beneath his feet. "hey, when'd you get here?" the male asked with a hint of slurring in his speech. as he looked up at you with heavy, droopy eyes, it was clear that he had indulged in some heavy drinking. the pungent odor emanating from him was reminiscent of a dead skunk, indicating that he had gone beyond his limits.

"just now," you suddenly blinked at the male. hakari, who was sitting in front of you, noticed your sudden movement and scratched the nape of his neck before tilting his head to crack his joints. the sound of his joints echoed in the quiet room as he stretched his muscles, trying to relieve the tension from his body after sitting for so long. "are you high?"

"high off my fever," the male chuckled as you saw the vibrance come back into his magenta-colored irises before pushing himself up from the couch, running his fingers through his twisted locks. "help me clean this mess up, will ya?"

as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of Hakari shuffling towards the kitchen. he seemed to be in a hurry, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was up to. a few moments later, he emerged from the kitchen with a rag in his hand.

you could see the dampness on the rag and could smell the cleaning spray that he had used to dampen it. it was clear that he was on a mission to clean up yet another one of his spills. you decided to have a little fun with him this time and stepped back, leaving him to his own devices.

"nah, you can handle it, i'm sure," you couldn't help but smirk at the other person present in the room as hakari began to clean up the mess. as he went about the task, he paused right in the middle, his gaze fixing on you, eyebrows raised in surprise. hakari had come to expect your help whenever he made his frequent messes, and he seemed taken aback that you were not offering to help him this time. his slitted eyebrows lowered in mild irritation and let his head fall back down to the puddle of saké, continuing to clean up the mess on his own.

hakari let out a soft sigh and spoke under their breath, "okay then." his voice was barely audible as they uttered the words, almost as if they were lost in thought. it was clear that hakari was contemplating something, perhaps your sudden shift in attitude when you chose not to help him clean the saké that was spilled on the hardwood floor.

this continued for the rest of the day. you and hakari were cuddled up together in bed watching a horror movie that he suggested for the two of you to watch together before heading to sleep that night. as you both watched the film, you felt pretty and wanted to take some photos.

despite your efforts to pose for the camera, it was no secret that you struggled with it. with your phone held out in front of you at an awkward angle, you squinted at the screen and kept adjusting the position, hoping for a better shot. however, all your attempts were in vain as your little device suddenly slipped from your grasp and landed firmly in hakari's hand. with effortless ease, the male took the phone from you and began capturing a few shots, skillfully adjusting the angle and focus to create the perfect photo.

"i had it, y'know?" you furrowed your eyebrows as you snatched your phone back from him. though you were being all fussy with hakari, saying how much you didn't really need his help with posing, he couldn't help but notice how enchanting you looked with your face being illuminated by the tv while the rest of you were consumed by the darkness of the room.

"yeah, sure you did." hakari rasped before suddenly pinning you to the bed and kissing you to silence your fussing. his legs wrapped around your thighs while his hands moved up and down your sides, his grip getting tighter as the kiss grew more passionate.

his mouth traveled from your lips to your neck, and back down again, his hand roaming up your thigh. both of you had been breathing quite heavily as he held you down with his body as your lips remained locked together. hakari moved back to your neck, lightly sucking on your skin, making sure he'd leave a mark on you.

as hakari sucked on your skin, you felt him pulling down your sweatpants. once your pants had gone past your knees and down to your feet, he tossed the item onto the floor, leaving your panties exposed to him. before he could slide them down, he paused, making sure to break his pace.

"just to let you know...before this goes any further..." he began softly, his grip on your hips becoming lighter. "i don't have a condom...is that good with you?"

you nodded, "it's okay." your reply was simple and to the point. hakari seemed a bit surprised by your directness, but he had a faint grin on his lips as well.

once your panties were completely off and out of the way, he would toss them onto the floor with your pants and continue his previous process, now using his fingers to explore your sensitive area. when hakari heard your breathing picking up and your whimpering became more evident, he smirked, and his hands began moving faster.

hakari was pleasantly surprised by your response and he began to move his fingers through your gummy walls faster and more confidently after hearing your vocality. his smirk grew as he continued, his gaze locked on yours. after a few moments, he finally decided to speak to break the silence that was accompanied by the sounds of your wetness.

"you like that, huh?" he mumbled to you, keeping his digits moving at a moderate pace, but the speed at which they moved started to slow down a little. you were honestly starting to think that he would never stop.

"you know....i- can't-" you stammered as you tried to speak while simultaneously fighting off your moans of pleasure that reverberated against the walls of your bedroom. you suddenly stopped trying to talk, as you realized that it was getting harder for you to do.

hakari groaned as your sounds became louder and heavier, a blush starting to form on his cheeks. his grip tightened again, and his fingers sped up once more, as he kept his eyes locked on yours then slowing down again. "you like this...yeah?" he grunted out. "tell me how much you like it..."

his tone was a lot more flirtatious now. his hand moved in a circular motion, now adding another digit into your core.

"i like it, hakari," you said breathily, your eyebrows knitting together while you attempted to keep your composure, but it obviously hadn't been going very well for you at the moment. "i love it, actually."

hakari continued to listen to your responses, and his lips grew into a wider grin as he heard your words. his hands continued their pace as well, and after a moment of thinking, he spoke again. "mhm..." he mumbled back. "you love it, huh? good."

his grip on your waist was quite tight at this point, but he was enjoying it, judging by the wide smile that he had on his face. once again, he started to speak.

"aw, you're just so cute," he crooned, moving his hands back down between your legs. "and you're a vocal one too."

as hakari started to pick up his pace once again, enjoying the loud noises you were making. he was almost sure the neighbors heard you. he had been teasing you to the fullest, you were starting to get impatient with him.

"please, i don't want your fingers," you finally spoke up, your breath hitching as you spoke. "i want you inside." your words caught hakari off guard and he was never really expecting you to want anything more from him. in fact, it only made him grin even more as his eyes locked with yours.

"really...?" he muttered, squeezing your waist a bit with each passing moment. "you sure you don't want my fingers, you want the entire thing, huh?"

when you nodded in response to his question, he let out a grunt as he began to move his hands down to get himself in position. the male would remove his shirt and then his pants and his hands were on your waist while your legs spread far enough to accommodate him. hakari was already breathing heavily at this point, and once he got himself into the proper position, he moved your legs over your head as he prepared to enter you.

once he was inside, his grip on your hips became tight. his movement was a bit slow as well, just to start off. he grunted once again, starting to speed up with each passing moment. his breath getting heavy. your arms were wrapped around his body and when hakari decided to speed up, your grip tightened and your nails proceeded to dig into his back.

hakari groaned, digging his hand deeper into the mattress underneath him as he got into it more at this point. his grip on her hips were as tight as could be, as he looked into her eyes, a grin on his face. the feeling of your nails digging into his back and your moans from them were almost enough to make him lose it. hakari was clearly enjoying this, and so he pressed even deeper, starting to move faster with each passing moment.

“shit...” his pace continued to speed up, as he began to breathe more heavily. “moan for me...” hakari grunted in a somewhat harsh sounding tone, but still somewhat flirtatious. despite the change in his tone, he was enjoying himself as his pace continued to increase.

doing as told, you let out a soft moan as your hips started to react to his movements. hakari seemed delighted by your reaction. his smile grew even stronger. now that you were moaning for him, his fingers gripped onto the sheets of the bed and sweat beads began to form on his forehead.

the male moved closer to your face in order to see you better, his hand still moving. he grunted loudly as he moved even faster, the pace becoming almost relentless. he wanted you to feel amazing, but he also wanted himself to feel just as good, so he moved at a pace where they both felt pleasure. this went on for a while, until he eventually felt himself starting to get close.

once he felt himself get closer, he slowed down a little bit, his grip on her continuing to stay tight and his voice becoming a little raspier from all the movement. “you close?” he grunted out, his breath heavy from all of the movements, just as his voice was heavy due to the sounds you was making.

“yeah,” you breathed out, tears starting to form in your eyes from the pressure.

the movements continued on, picking up speed again, and he stayed as deeply as he could get inside of you. his hand tightened again as well, as he kept his pace the same as before, if not faster.

“fuck, i'm so close...” he murmured, grunting once again. his pace was getting faster, and the movements were becoming more repetitive as he grunted again. his hand kept its grip on your hips.

the sound of your moaning and his grunting became quite loud in the room now, as they just kept going at it. as hakari’s breath became even heavier, his hand moved from her hip up to her neck, starting to grab her a little bit to hold her in place.

“don’t fuckin’ move..." hakari mumbled out, still having his hand on her neck as he moved faster. the sounds of you and his breathing, his grunting, and your moaning were all really loud and heavy. you could barely feel his grip on her stomach anymore, as his hand had moved to her neck now.

“fuck... i'm...” he grunted, his voice becoming hoarse. this continued for a few moments more, but after enough time had passed, he finally stopped. strings of white ropes landed onto you and the bed sheets. hakari released another groan and the grip on your neck loosened finally, leaving purple marks on your skin.

hakari laid down beside you, still breathing heavily. he was dripping with sweat and so were you. both having a panting expression on your faces. although he was exhausted from the whole ordeal, a wide grin was still on his face.

"you know..." he started between breaths, still gripping your waist. his body was leaning against yours, putting pressure on you. "you still got a fat ass head...but i really enjoyed that."

"man, you don't ever let a good moment go by," you playfully roll your eyes as you finally catch your breath. hakari shrugged, giving you a goofy smile before kissing your cheek and resting his head against your chest.

"wanna watch another movie?" he mumbled against your body, lightly kissing you and rubbing your slightly bruised sides with his thumb. you put your hand on his head, running your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

"one more and then i'm going to bed." you said as you pulled the blanket over your bodies. hakari sucked his teeth as if he didn't like the idea of watching a final movie then going to sleep.

"i won't be letting you sleep, then," the male smirked as he grabbed the remote from the nightstand and began to search for another movie for the night.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

[yandere-romanticaa]

art credit. // I was greatly inspired by this post by the lovely @yanderenightmare so, I'd like to add my own little take on it, but only focusing on Dabi and Hawks because I'm just in that mood.

The good and bad cop routine is something which would take ages getting used to. The sheer amount of whiplash and pressure which is being put on you on a daily basis is too much, it's too fucking much and you have no time to process any of it as you are forced into this new life without any sort warning. On the few rare occasions in which you are graced with the rare bliss of solitude, you sit at your new home and just think. Ponder. Scheme. You allow the luxury of fantasy to take over your mind - you run out of the front door, barefoot, broken and scared. Bruises, cuts, burns and plenty of other injuries litter your body like a stained canvas, old and used. You could already feel the aching of your unused muscles as they would scream at you to stop, lungs heavy with the need to just breathe you but you cannot because if you do they would find you and drag you back however they damned pleased.

In this fantasy, you managed to escape. The soft green grass touched your toes, the warm sun felt hot but incredible against your tired skin. It felt as though it was giving you a Welcome back! greeting as you would make your way towards the train station, with nothing but a few bucks and some pathetic excuse of an outfit on you. You had nothing but you could manage. Anything was better than being forced back into that Hell.

You let out a long sigh as vivid imagery engulfed you, it felt so real. There you were, out of the country and lost to civilization somewhere far, far away. Grunt and manual labor would be beyond difficult to start with but it was the best possible option as it would give you little to no attention. Besides, it would take ages for your abused body to get used to it, which would probably dock your pay a little but you didn't mind. Oh how perfect of a life that would be, with no one around to bother you ever again. Perhaps in a few years if you felt like it, perhaps you could step foot in a crowd without the paranoid fear of someone peeling your skin off with white hot flames of fury and jealousy.

Dabi's touch became like a second nature to you and you hated it. Whenever he could he would grab you and just press you close to him, not caring at all about any personal space. He was tired and bored, behave and he'll be good to you, maybe. Keigo would proceed to reprimand him for his attitude but you knew damn well that he was no better than the villain.

He too would take you if he had the chance. Frankly, you were never sure what you were more keen on - Dabi's devilish honesty or Keigo's sweet suffocation. Neither option was good but Keigo felt like a lesser evil, something you could manage with a kind word or two.

You couldn't help but to grunt as your eyes fluttered open. Looking around, the apartment was still vacant. Damn it all, you couldn't even fantasize without even thinking of the two.

Oh how happy they would be if they knew that fact.

You could already hear Dabi's satisfied grunt as he pulled you close to his chest, his touch rough and unforgiving. That's right you should be thinking about him, you should be worried about what he might do to you because mercy is not in his vocabulary. Despite his constant teasing and bullying, Dabi was in no mood for games. Sure, he was a sadist who took genuine pleasure in watching you squirm and cry, particularly if it was caused by his hand. His awful burns would take forever to heal, he sometimes wouldn't even allow them to heal. That was his own personal way of claiming you, putting his own little stamp of ownership somewhere visible. As stated, mercy is not something he is familiar with.

A kinder touch is more up to Keigo's speed.

Despite the beautiful wings on his back, the man was no angel and he was not guiltless. He was just as bad as Dabi but his own obsession simply manifested in a completely different manner. Instead of hurting you, the pro hero preferred to be doting and kind. Oh how he ached to touch you but whenever you would flinch away hurt him so badly, but he never put the blame on you. Horrible, mean Dabi was the one who messed you up, which meant that it was Keigo's job to fix you. The blonde just loved to bathe you, his fingers gently massaging your scalp as the scent of shampoo would fill his nostrils, a scent he hand picked in hope that you would like it.

They took so much from you. He had to make it up somehow.

It was during these vulnerable moments where he tried to get you to open up to him. There were times when he managed to do just that and have a proper conversation with you. He stored those precious memories deep inside his heart and he would replay them constantly in his head as he was out on patrol.

He couldn't wait to get home. Did you start to see him as desirable? A person of safety? God he hoped so.

There was no way out of this arrangement he made with Dabi, there just wasn't. It was hard to manage but it had to be done. Keigo felt bitter about the fact that Dabi was the one who spent most of the day with you. Keigo was unfortunately tied down by his hero work and public duties, which meant that he had to be extra careful about his activities with you. He couldn't risk the public knowing about you, it was too dangerous.

As for Dabi, he danced on a strange line of being allowed to do whatever he wanted while also somehow being able to do nothing. On paper that makes no sense but Dabi is just that kind of guy. He can have you for himself for the whole entire day but if you were spotted with a nefarious criminal such as him, he would be in deep shit. He was skilled enough to take care of this whole ordeal but still.

The relationship you have with these two is rocky. It's like trying to pick a rose and trying to avoid the thorns, only to end up getting pricked by an even bigger thorn. No matter where you go, run or hide, they are always there. Not even your own mind was safe.

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 31/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 5827

A/N: This is part 31 of “His only exception”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Meanwhile, Ben was consumed by a storm of emotions, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment. As he made his way downstairs, his thoughts were a tumultuous whirlwind of regret and frustration.

When Butcher crossed his path, his snide remark pushing Ben over the edge, something inside him snapped. Without a second thought, Ben lashed out, his fist connecting with Butcher's face with a sickening crunch.

The force of the blow sent Butcher staggering backward, blood gushing from his broken nose, a few bones cracking under the impact. Ben stood there, panting heavily, his knuckles bruised and bloodied.

In that moment, the veneer of control that had kept Ben tethered to reality shattered, leaving nothing but raw, unbridled fury in its wake. The consequences of his actions mattered little as the red haze of anger clouded his vision, consuming him whole.

As Butcher's face began to heal in seconds, the shock of the rapid regeneration only fueled his fury further. With a snarl of rage, he launched himself at Ben, his own fists swinging wildly in retaliation.

The two clashed in a violent whirlwind of punches and kicks, the sound of bone against bone echoing through the hallway as they exchanged blow after blow. Each strike brought with it a symphony of pain, but neither man showed any sign of backing down.

With each passing moment, the fight grew more brutal, the intensity of their rage fueling the relentless assault. Bones cracked and blood spilled, staining the floor beneath their feet as they fought.

Annie and A-Train rounded the corner just in time to witness the brutal brawl unfolding before them. Reacting quickly, they rushed forward, attempting to pull Ben and Butcher away from each other, but their efforts were met with resistance.

"Ben, stop it!", Annie shouted, her voice laced with desperation as she struggled to break through the haze of his rage.

But Ben was beyond reason, his fists still flying as he fought against A-Train's grip. Blood streamed down his face, mingling with the sweat and grime that coated his skin, but he showed no signs of relenting.

A-Train's muscles strained against the force of Ben's resistance, his expression a mixture of frustration and concern. "Come on, man, calm down!", he urged, his voice barely audible over the din of the fight.

But Ben's fury was unyielding, his mind consumed by a single-minded determination to unleash his pent-up rage. It took all of Annie and A-Train's combined strength to finally pry him away from Butcher.

Annie's voice cut through the chaos like a beacon of clarity, her eyes searching Ben's battered face for any sign of recognition. "Ben, where's (Y/N)?", she asked, her tone gentle yet insistent, hoping to break through the haze of his rage by mentioning someone he cared about deeply.

The mention of your name seemed to pierce through the fog of anger clouding Ben's mind.

Ben tugged harshly his arms away, his frustration still evident in his movements. But Annie refused to let him retreat into himself, her grip firm as she gently tucked his wrist again, her gaze unwavering as she searched his eyes for any sign of vulnerability.

Sensing that something was amiss with you, Annie gestured for the others to leave her and Ben alone, a silent plea for privacy as she sought to unravel the mystery of your absence.

"Let go of me", Ben growled, his voice low and dangerous, a warning simmering beneath the surface. "If you want to fucking live, you'll let go of my wrist right now".

Annie held his gaze steadily, unflinching in the face of his anger. "Ben, I'm not your enemy", she said calmly, her voice soft yet firm. "But something's wrong, and I need to know what it is. Please, talk to me".

Annie maintained her grip on Ben's wrist, her expression a mix of concern and determination. "Ben, I need to know where (Y/N) is", she insisted, her voice steady despite the tension between them.

Ben’s jaw tensed as he wrestled with his emotions, the turmoil of his inner conflict written across his face. “She’s downstairs… in the hospital”, he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

Annie’s brow furrowed with worry as she processed the revelation. “What happened? Is she alright?”, she pressed, her concern for you overriding any other considerations.

Ben pulled his arm away from Annie's grasp for good, his movements sharp with frustration. "It's none of your fucking business", he snapped.

"Ben, I'm just trying to help", she pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation.

But Ben's resolve remained unyielding, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "I said it's none of your fucking business", he repeated, his voice cold and cutting.

As Ben left the building without another word, Annie wasted no time in springing into action. She hurried downstairs to the Vought hospital.

Every step felt like an eternity as she raced through the corridors, her mind racing with a thousand different possibilities.

Finally, she reached the entrance to the hospital. With a quick glance around, she spotted the reception desk and wasted no time in making her way over.

"Excuse me", she said breathlessly to the nurse behind the desk, her voice urgent. "I need to know if (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is here. Can you please tell me if she's okay?".

The nurse bit her lip, her expression filled with sympathy as she regarded Annie. "I'm sorry", she said softly, her voice tinged with regret. "But I'm not authorized to share any information about Ms. (Y/L/N) without proper clearance".

Annie's heart sank at the nurse's words, frustration bubbling up inside her like a tidal wave. "Please", she pleaded, desperation creeping into her voice. "I just need to know if she's okay".

The nurse hesitated, torn between her duty to uphold patient confidentiality and her desire to help. "I understand", she said finally, her tone gentle yet firm. "But I'm afraid I can't make any exceptions. You'll need to contact Ms. (Y/L/N)'s next of kin or legal representative for any updates on her condition".

Annie nodded, her determination unyielding despite the setback. With a subtle shift of her gaze, she scanned the surroundings, searching for any opportunity to bypass the hospital's strict protocols.

Excusing herself to use the restroom, Annie slipped away unnoticed, her footsteps quick and purposeful as she navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the hospital.

Annie began to search for your room.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of searching, Annie found your room. With a silent exhale of relief, she slipped inside.

As her eyes fell upon you sleeping peacefully on the bed, a wave of relief washed over her. You didn't seem hurt or in any immediate danger, just a bit rough around the edges and tired.

Annie approached your bedside with cautious steps, her gaze softening as she took in the sight of you. Despite the shadows of exhaustion that lingered beneath your closed eyelids, there was a sense of tranquility about you that eased the knots of worry in her chest.

Annie's heart skipped a beat as she noticed the medical report at the foot of your bed. With trembling hands, she reached out and picked it up, her eyes scanning the contents with growing horror.

As she read the words "first pregnancy with a supe baby", her breath caught in her throat, her mind struggling to comprehend the gravity of what she had just discovered. It was impossible, unthinkable, something that defied all logic and reason.

Her ears went numb as she grappled with the implications of the revelation. Never before in the history of supes had there been a documented case of someone being pregnant with a supe baby. The very idea seemed like something out of a nightmare, a cruel twist of fate that defied all understanding.

Annie's mind raced with a thousand questions, each more terrifying than the last. How was it possible? What did it mean for you and the baby? And most importantly, what would happen if anyone found out?

Thats when Ben stepped inside, a large bag from the nearby pharmacy store and a huge bouquet of roses clutched tightly in his hand, his eyes immediately landed on Annie and the medical report in her hands. His jaw clenched with a force that seemed to echo through the room, his expression darkening with a potent mix of anger and betrayal.

Annie's heart sank as she felt the weight of his gaze, the tension in the air palpable as the gravity of the situation hung heavy between them. She knew that Ben was beyond mad.

But instead of backing off, Annie's eyes also flared with intensity, her own anger matching Ben's as she held her ground. "You really knocked her up?!", she growled, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and outrage. "Are you out of your damn mind?!".

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, the weight of their accusation reverberating through the room. Annie's fists clenched at her sides, her entire body tense with frustration as she stared down Ben, daring him to deny the truth that lay before them.

Ben's jaw tightened even further, his fists trembling with restrained fury as he struggled to find the words to respond. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension, as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

Ben's muscles tensed with barely-contained rage as he slammed the bag anf the flowers onto the table. Without a word, he grabbed Annie by the throat and forcefully pulled her out of the room, his grip firm and unyielding.

Outside the room, Ben pushed Annie against the wall, his expression twisted with anger as he glared down at her. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!", he demanded, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the hallway.

His patience wearing thin as he fought to control his temper. "(Y/N) is not your fucking concern. Stay the fuck away from her", his voice louder than intended as he struggled to keep his anger in check.

Annie managed to pull herself free from Ben's grasp, her chest heaving with exertion as she stared defiantly back at him. "Do you even know how dangerous this fucking pregnancy probably is?", she hissed, her voice laced with frustration and concern.

But Ben remained unmoved, his expression hardened with resolve as he met her gaze head-on. "I said stay away from her", he growled, his tone leaving no room for argument. "This is none of your business. So stay the fuck out of it".

Annie's frustration boiled over at Ben's stubborn refusal to acknowledge the gravity of the situation. "What the fuck are you gonna do if she dies?", she demanded, her voice cracking with emotion. "You think you can just ignore the risks and pretend like everything's gonna be fine?".

Ben's jaw clenched with anger at Annie's words. Without a word, he surged forward, gripping her by the throat once more with a force that made her gasp for breath.

"Watch your fucking mouth", he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "You have no idea what you're talking about".

Annie's eyes blazed with defiance even as she struggled to break free from Ben's iron grip. "I know enough to know that you're putting her life at risk", she spat, her voice filled with righteous indignation. "And if you think I'm just gonna stand by and let that happen, then you're even more of a fucking idiot than I thought".

As Annie and Ben's argument reached a fever pitch, a low rumble echoed from within your room. Startled by the noise outside, you attempted to sit up, but the dizziness that gripped you proved too overwhelming. With a gasp, you tumbled out of the bed, your limbs weak and unsteady as you hit the ground with a soft thud.

The sound of your fall cut through the tension between Annie and Ben, their argument momentarily forgotten as they rushed to your side. "Shit", Ben muttered, his concern evident in his voice as he knelt beside you, gently helping you into a sitting position.

Annie's expression softened with worry as she hovered nearby, her hands trembling with the urge to help. "Are you okay?", she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern as she reached out to steady you.

You nodded weakly, the world still spinning around you.

As your stomach churned with nauseating intensity, you found yourself unable to utter a single word, the queasiness overwhelming your senses. By now Ben was used to this look, knowing what´s going on. He scooped you up in his arms, his movements swift and decisive as he carried you to the bathroom.

Gently setting you down beside the toilet, Ben supported you as you collapsed against it, your body wracked with involuntary heaves as you emptied the contents of your stomach. The sensation was agonizing, waves of nausea crashing over you in relentless succession as you clung to the porcelain bowl for support.

Annie hovered nearby, her hands wringing with worry as she watched the scene unfold before her. "Is she going to be okay?", she asked, her voice tinged with fear as she looked to Ben for reassurance.

Ben nodded grimly, his jaw set with determination. "She'll be fine", he replied, his tone steady despite the gravity of the situation. "We just need to get her through this".

As you leaned weakly against the bathroom wall, the concern etched deeply into Ben's features was unmistakable. Despite his attempts to reassure Annie, a nagging sense of doubt gnawed at him from within. It had only been a few weeks since the discovery of your pregnancy, but already he could see the toll it was taking on you.

You had lost a noticeable amount of weight, and now, weakened by the flu and constant vomiting, you seemed more fragile than ever. The thought of you suffering like this filled Ben with a sense of helplessness that he struggled to push aside.

To be honest, he was more than worried. The weight of responsibility bore down on him heavily as he grappled with the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The fear of losing you, of failing to protect you and the baby, threatened to consume him whole.

Annie brought you a glass of water to rinse your mouth, her expression filled with concern as she offered you a small measure of comfort. As you leaned against Ben's solid chest, seeking solace in his embrace, a sense of guilt washed over you.

"M'sorry", you mumbled weakly, your voice barely above a whisper as you buried your face against Ben's shoulder. The weight of your apology hung heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the fact that you hadn't told him about the conversation with the doctor.

Ben's arms tightened around you, his embrace offering a sense of warmth and security that you desperately needed in that moment. "It's okay", he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring against the tumult of your thoughts. "We'll figure this out".

With a deep sigh, you allowed yourself to relax into Ben's embrace, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear.

Ben held you close, his chin resting gently atop your head as he pressed you tightly against himself. His eyes stared off into the distance, a myriad of emotions flickering across his features. Concern, fear, and determination mingled in the depths of his gaze as he grappled with the weight of the situation.

Annie stood nearby, her heart heavy with concern as she watched the two of you. The sight of your weakness tugged at her heartstrings, filling her with a sense of helplessness that she struggled to shake off.

With a heavy sigh, Annie approached, her gaze filled with empathy as she reached out to gently touch your shoulder. "Is there anything I can do to help?", she offered softly, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

Ben's jaw clenched again, his frustration bubbling to the surface as he listened to Annie's offer of assistance. "Keep your fucking mouth shut", he growled, his voice low and harsh. "No one can know about the pregnancy".

Annie recoiled slightly at the force of his words, the gravity of the situation hitting her with renewed intensity. She nodded solemnly, understanding the severity of the situation. "I won't say a word", she assured him, her voice barely above a whisper. "I promise".

With a curt nod, Ben turned his attention back to you. He carefully lifted you up again, cradling you gently in his arms as he murmured, "Let's get you back in bed".

His voice was tender, filled with a quiet reassurance as he carried you back to the hospital bed.

Annie followed close behind. Despite the tension that lingered in the air, there was a sense of unity in that moment, a shared commitment to ensuring your well-being above all else.

As Ben carefully laid you back down on the bed, he tucked the blankets around you with gentle hands.

Ben watched you fall back asleep within seconds. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, the weight of exhaustion settling upon his shoulders. With a weary groan, he sank onto the couch, his muscles tense with pent-up tension and worry.

Annie observed him from across the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she studied him. "You both look beyond exhausted", she remarked softly, her voice tinged with empathy.

Ben rubbed his face with a tired hand, his movements slow and deliberate as he tried to push back the fatigue that threatened to overwhelm him.

"I'm fucking fine", Ben muttered defensively, his voice strained with exhaustion as he brushed off Annie's concern. "We're both fine".

But Annie wasn't convinced, her brow furrowing with worry as she refused to let Ben off the hook so easily. "What do the doctors say?", she pressed, her tone gentle yet insistent. "They must have some idea of what's going on".

Ben hesitated, his jaw tightening with frustration as he struggled to find the words. "They think it's the flu adding to her weakness", he admitted reluctantly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"But it´s not just that", Ben continued, his voice low and troubled.

Annie's concern deepened at Ben's cryptic words, her heart pounding with a sense of foreboding. "What do you mean?", she pressed.

Ben took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to reveal. "They're worried that (Y/N)'s body might be too weak for the baby", he confessed, his voice heavy with guilt. "No one knows if she'll be able to continue the pregnancy without… help".

"But what kind of help?", she asked, her voice trembling with fear. "Is there anything they can do?".

Ben shook his head, his expression haunted by the uncertainty of the situation. "The doctors are working on some kind of V medicine to make (Y/N) stronger", he explained, his voice barely above a whisper. "But… there are no guarantees".

Annie leaned back against the wall, her eyes fixed intently on Ben as she processed the weight of his words. "Do you love her?", she asked softly, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

Ben's eyes narrowed slightly at the question, his expression guarded as he met Annie's gaze. He rolled his eyes, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. "What kind of fucking question is that?", he grumbled, his tone defensive.

Annie sighed softly, recognizing the familiar defensiveness in Ben's response. She knew that he was not one to open up about his feelings, especially not to her. But she couldn't help but wonder about the depth of his emotions towards you, especially in light of the challenges you were facing together.

"It's just… she means a lot to you. I can tell, but.. ".

Ben's jaw tensed with frustration at Annie's probing, his walls rising higher as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "She knows how I feel", he muttered evasively, his gaze drifting away from Annie's probing stare. "That's all that matters".

"If you love her, you wouldn't allow her to suffer like this", she insisted gently, her voice tinged with sadness. "She's counting on you to protect her, Ben".

Ben's jaw clenched tighter at Annie's words, a pang of guilt twisting in his chest as he looked upon you, so fragile and vulnerable in that moment. "I'm doing everything I fucking can", he muttered defensively, his voice thick with emotion.

But Annie shook her head. "She's suffering, and you know that", she murmured.

With that, Annie left the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway as she disappeared from view. Left alone with his thoughts, Ben felt a wave of anguish wash over him, the weight of his responsibilities bearing down upon him like a leaden weight.

Ben's hands trembled slightly as he pulled the bag from the pharmacy closer to himself. He began to carefully arrange the small boxes of vitamins for pregnancy on the table, each one a beacon of hope in the midst of uncertainty.

He knew that he loved you more than anything in this world, and that his heart ached at the thought of seeing you suffer. But at the same time, he couldn't shake the overwhelming desire to protect the life growing inside of you, to ensure that your child had the chance live.

As he glanced over at you, still lost in peaceful slumber, a wave of tenderness washed over him, mingled with a fierce determination to do whatever it took to keep you both safe. His heart clenched with indecision, torn between his love for you and his desire for the baby that symbolized your love.

By midnight you were awake again, the soft shuffle of footsteps drew your attention to the doorway, where the nurse entered the room, her presence a comforting reminder of the watchful care surrounding you.

You watched from your bed as she approached, her gentle demeanor a balm to your weary soul. With a warm smile, she checked on you, her eyes filled with genuine concern as she assessed your condition.

Meanwhile, Ben lay sound asleep on the small couch nearby, his form bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, the lines of tension that had etched themselves into his features during the day softened in the gentle embrace of sleep.

"The fever seems to have gone down a bit", the nurse remarked with a gentle smile, her voice soft and reassuring as she checked your vital signs.

You offered her a weak smile in return, grateful for the small reprieve from your symptoms. She administered the new infusion. But the nurse's expression turned more serious as she turned her attention to the untouched dinner plate resting on your bedside table. "You need to eat something", she insisted firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument as she gestured towards the meal with a determined nod.

You nodded obediently, understanding the importance of nourishing your body, especially in your weakened state. With a weary sigh, you reached for the plate, determined to do whatever it took to regain your strength and vitality, if only for the sake of your unborn child.

After the nurse left the room, you turned your attention to the plate of food before you. As you ate, you found yourself sinking one hand down onto your belly. Slowly, you began to rub small circles over the swell of your abdomen.

With each gentle stroke, you felt a sense of connection to the tiny being nestled within your womb, a bond that transcended words and filled you with a profound sense of peace.

As Ben stirred from his slumber, his eyes slowly blinked open, heavy with exhaustion. His gaze drifted around the room, taking in the dimly lit surroundings before settling on you, sitting on the bed, quietly eating your vegetables.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched you, a sense of relief washing over him at the sight of you awake and seemingly feeling a bit better. Pushing himself up from the couch, he made his way over to your side, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he approached.

"Hey", he murmured softly, his voice rough with sleep as he reached out to gently touch your shoulder. "How are you feeling?".

You looked up at him, a tired yet genuine smile gracing your lips as you met his gaze. "Better", you replied softly, the words carrying a weight of gratitude for his presence by your side.

Ben's heart swelled as he looked down at you, his hand lingering on your shoulder. "I'm glad", he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and tenderness.

With a gentle squeeze of your shoulder, he settled down beside you on the bed. His arms holding you close against his chest. With a heavy sigh, he murmured softly, "I'm sorry for losing my shit… Again".

His heart still ached with the memory of seeing the fear in your eyes, a painful reminder of the impact his anger had on you. Despite his outward strength, inside, he felt a sense of guilt and regret for causing you any distress.

"I would never lay a hand on you.. Not like that", he added, his voice filled with sincerity as he held you tighter, as if seeking reassurance that you believed him.

You felt a wave of warmth wash over you at his words, knowing deep down that Ben would beat you or something. You nestled closer to him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, a comforting reminder of his love and devotion.

"I know", you whispered softly as you reached up to gently stroke his cheek. "I trust you, Ben. I always will".

Ben's heart ached with a profound sense of remorse, knowing that despite your words of reassurance, you had still flinched away from him earlier.

With a tender touch, he squeezed you even closer against his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as a silent apology for his earlier outburst.

As Ben’s hand gently guided you towards his car a week later, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of relief at the prospect of finally leaving the confines of the hospital behind. Your body still felt weak and fragile, but the promise of fresh air and freedom beckoned on the horizon.

Just as you approached the car, Annie’s voice pierced through the air, her tone filled with urgency as she called out to you. “Hey, wait up!”, she yelled, her footsteps quickening as she hurried to catch up with the two of you.

You glanced at Ben, a flicker of surprise crossing your features at Annie’s sudden appearance. It had been over a week since she found out about your pregnancy, yet she hadn’t reached out to either of you during your time in the hospital. Her sudden presence now left you feeling uncertain and apprehensive.

Ben's jaw clenched slightly as Annie's unexpected presence grated on his nerves, his annoyance palpable as he struggled to maintain his composure. Despite his irritation, he forced himself to remain outwardly calm, knowing that any outburst would only escalate the tension between them.

Annie's eyes flickered over to you, her gaze lingering on the small bump that adorned your abdomen, a mixture of curiosity and concern flashing in her eyes. "Are you feeling better?", she asked softly, her voice laced with genuine concern.

You nodded slowly, offering her a small smile of gratitude for her concern. "Yes, I am", you replied, your voice soft yet sincere. "Thank you for asking".

Ben's grip on your lower back tightened imperceptibly, a silent reminder of his protective stance. Despite his lingering annoyance, he couldn't deny the sincerity in Annie's voice, nor could he fault her for showing concern for your well-being.

Annie quickly reassured the both of you, her voice tinged with sincerity as she spoke. "I haven't said a word to anyone, and I won't", she insisted firmly, her eyes meeting yours with earnestness. "Your secret is safe with me".

You offered her a small nod of gratitude, appreciative of her commitment to keeping your pregnancy confidential.

But Ben's expression remained guarded. "Forgive me if I don't exactly fucking trust you", he muttered, his tone laced with a hint of bitterness. "Cause you've already proven that you can't be trusted".

Annie's brow furrowed with frustration. "I understand that you're upset", she replied. "But I'm telling you the truth. I haven't told anyone, and I won't".

Despite Annie's assurances, Ben remained skeptical, his distrust of her lingering like a shadow between them.

Annie's voice broke through the silence, her tone soft yet tentative as she broached the topic that had been weighing on her mind. "Do the doctors have any idea how your pregnancy will proceed?", she inquired gently, her eyes flickering between you and Ben. "Will the baby need any special treatment or care?".

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond to Annie's questions. Part of you still felt a lingering sense of resentment towards her for the role she had played in the team's actions against Ben, yet another part of you couldn't deny the longing you felt for her friendship.

"We're still waiting on some test results", you replied carefully, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "But so far, everything seems to be progressing kinda normally".

Annie's gaze shifted towards Ben as she spoke. "You need to be careful (Y/N)", she said softly, her voice tinged with urgency. "To not get hurt. You're important too, not just the baby".

Ben's jaw tensed slightly as he absorbed Annie's words, his expression guarded. "We'll be careful", he replied curtly, his voice firm with determination. "We know what's at stake".

You couldn't help but mumble under your breath, the overwhelming desire to just go home and find solace in the familiar comforts of your own space tugging at your heartstrings. "I really just want to go home", you whispered.

With a heavy sigh, you slid into the car, the worn leather seats enveloping you in a sense of familiarity and warmth. As Ben settled into the driver's seat beside you, you spared a fleeting glance towards Annie, a pang of guilt tugging at your conscience as you left her standing alone.

As the car rumbled along the familiar streets towards home, your hand found its way to your belly, instinctively seeking comfort in the gentle swell that cradled your unborn child. Despite the lingering weakness that still clung to your limbs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you as you felt a subtle vibration beneath your palm.

A weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you marveled at the tiny life growing within you.

Feeling Ben's hand squeeze your thigh, you turned to him with a curious expression, the gentle pressure of his touch anchoring you in the present moment. "What's up?", you asked softly, your voice tinged with curiosity as you met his gaze.

Ben's eyes softened as he glanced at you, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I talked to your doctor about the V medication", he explained, his voice filled with a quiet sense of optimism. "He said they're making great progress".

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a surge of hope flooding through you as you processed the implications of his statement. The prospect of a medication that could strengthen both you and your unborn child filled you with a renewed sense of optimism, easing the weight of uncertainty that had been looming over you in recent days.

"That's amazing news", you murmured, your voice filled with gratitude.

As you and Ben settled onto the couch, the aroma of the takeaway food filling the air, you snuggled up against him, seeking solace in his comforting embrace. However, as you nestled closer, a wave of pain shot through your back, causing you to tense up involuntarily.

Sensing your discomfort, Ben's expression softened with concern as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest. "You´re okay?", he murmured as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You winced slightly, the pain in your back intensifying with each passing moment. "It's just my back", you whispered, trying to downplay the discomfort. "I think I pulled something".

Without hesitation, Ben channeling his power into his hand to generate warmth. He then carefully pressed his heated hand against your lower back, the soothing heat radiating through your muscles and easing the tension.

As the warmth seeped into your aching muscles, you felt a sense of relief wash over you, the pain gradually subsiding under Ben's comforting touch. Leaning back against him, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to relax, grateful for his unwavering support and care.

When Ben's heated touch eased the pain in your back, a soft moan escaped your lips. Unbeknownst to you, the sound of your moan had a powerful effect on Ben, instantly arousing him and sending blood rushing to his groin, making him hard.

Feeling the sudden shift in his body, Ben's cheeks flushed with heat as he tried to suppress the rising desire that threatened to overwhelm him. With a shaky breath, he focused on maintaining his composure, his hand still resting gently against your lower back as he tried to ignore the growing ache between his legs.

Ben couldn't help but grumble under his breath, his voice strained with pent-up desire. "It's been a fucking while since I heard you making those sounds", he muttered, his words laced with a mixture of frustration and longing.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 32

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK

[melodiclune]

It starts eerily calm.

And he craves revenge, more than anything. It's too late to search for allies, friends- people. Only redemption for himself exists now.

Tango falls, and he feels satiated, however briefly. He goes around, person by person- trusting no one, yet communicating and trading with everyone. As is his job, of course, as an honest Trader Scars' owner.

Skizz is next. He lets him go, even though the bloodlust is there. He lets Joel take it- he's gotten a good fill of his betrayal for now.

("Scar sends his regards.")

A fond farewell, to perhaps the only place he ever called his own- Trader Scars' may be destroyed, but it lives on in him.

Bigb takes so, so many hits. It's so tempting to get him. But he lets it go- he has some cowards hiding up in the tower to deal with.

("He sounds like a wounded wild animal- I feel so bad! Let's put him out of his misery.")

Etho goes down. It's like the apocalypse all over again- this time it's permanent. The villainous behaviour once forced down his throat, now devouring him as he lets it consume all his goodwill.

Bigb falls- it's just as quick as every other death so far. Cleo is trapped- it's so easy, really, to drive the sword through her back as he watches her bleed out. ("Goodbye!")

They fall, fall, fall... and Scar is always there at the sight of the bloodshed.

(Except for the Watcher- he dies, completely away from any place Scar could influence. How odd.)

And then, it's down to two sides. Scar wonders briefly, about how he has worked with both. But he sticks with the side he's on already- after all, switching now would be too much work. There's better numbers on this side anyway.

("Who cares- we all die anyway. It's all nothing.")

Bdubs and Joel fall- all he can do is stare as they do, a small attempt at saving them not going any farther than their attempts at befriending him.

Shooting Impulse off feels good, like killing everyone else did. The bloodlust remains strong.

Pearl helps him damage Scott a hefty amount- and later Gem comes to them, tears in her eyes and blood on her hands. He knows what has happened. She looks renewed, but broken.

He drives the sword through Gem, and then there were two.

Of course, there was never a true alliance to begin with. He's too tired of everyone's half hearted promises to him anyway. Pearl falls- he barely notices, the zombie capturing his attention.

("Pearl- where are you?")

(The Watcher speaks from beyond the veil. "She's dead, Scar. You've won.")

"Well, that can't be right. How did the guy with no friends win?"

He laughs, a bitter one. The zombie is attacking him- he feels himself succumb to it, but the numb feeling is overpowering.

Out of muscle memory, he trudges his way to the beginning of it all. The end of it all. The secret keeper hands him health, like it always does. Does he need it anymore?

("Win Secret Life.")

Well. He's completed his task. Time to move on.

But he sits there, by the Secret Keeper. The sun is bright in the sky, the blood on his hands drying.

It ends, eerily calm.

[charliehoennam]

beyond the badge pt.4

pairing: david loki x f!reader

summary: his fiancée is abducted and a distraught david realizes some rules must be broken in order to save the one he loves.

warnings: 18+, dark themes such as kidnapping, language, violence, eventual smut, suicide, death, physical injuries, threats, blood and abuse of law enforcement

SHARING IS CARING, SO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

one | two | three | five

The cold autumn air has his teeth chattering as night falls.

David grabs the black jacket from the back seat. After sliding it on, his hand fishes into his pocket for his black winter hat. He holds in his hand, analyzing the accessory remembering how he had picked up that habit.

You would always leave it tucked into the pocket before leaving for work because he can be forgetful when it comes to taking care of himself.

Staring at the endless sea of cedar that stem from the banks of echoing, rushing river, he thinks back to every little you used to do for him and he wonders how much of it he took for granted. He closes his heavy eyes as he reminisces.

The rush of the waters resounding through the cold air lull him, persuading him to give in. His body aches with exhaustion as it settles in his bones.The unmarked car he's nestled in warms gradually with every steady breath.

He doesn't notice he's nodded off until he jolts awake to the sound of birds cawing in the sky, pestered by what he assumes to be some commotion.

His heavy head lifts as he searches the terrain around. His sight takes a moment to adjust the jet black outside. Although it's hard to see, it doesn't seem like there's anything out of place.

Just as the small surge of adrenaline settles, his cell phone buzzes and lights up penetrating the darkness as he squints incoming texts. They're from O'Malley reaffirming everyone's in position for the ambush. The second confirms the arrival of the suspects.

A black SUV soon rolls up behind him with it's headlights piercing through the black.

David sits up in the driver's as epinephrine reignites in his system, tensing his muscles and urging his hand to instinctively wander down to the grip of his firearm.

Not knowing what to expect, he takes the gun from its holster and tucks into the waistband of his pants behind his back. Donovan may have made a small fortune with his crimes, but he didn't associate with the brightest. However, he's not willing to take the chance of stepping out of his car without protection. Especially if it could save your life.

The vehicle stops just 30 or more yards away from his rear end, so David steps out of his vehicle cautiously, scanning the abandoned site for any possible unexpected passersby as he holds his keys in hand.

The lights shine blindingly in his eyes. He doesn't look away; he tries to keep intimidatingly calm as he stares back at whoever the drivers is.

He hears the car doors open. Black shadows move behind the lights, but he still can’t quite make them out. He listens for the doors, counting three opening and closing, or so he thinks. He just can't tell. All he knows is they're not alone and he's almost certain the driver didn't get out.

Gravel crunches under heavy footsteps as dark figures move towards the front of the car. Standing before the light, it becomes gradually easier to make out the shapes. There's particular one that seems familiar.

His stomach drops. His breathing quickens. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he struggles to stay cool. Although brief and very brief at that, relief fills his chest.

Your eyes widen as the smelly black bag is torn off your head. Taking a moment to adjust to, your vision narrows in on him.

Taking mindless, instinctive steps, you try to run to him with wide frightened eyes until one of the large man behind you pulls you back roughly with a bruising grip on your arm.

There’s not much you can do to fight him. You bite down on the cloth gag that’s tied around your head, mentally repeating the masked man's words to yourself.

Don't do anything stupid. Stay calm. Do as we say and everything will be over.

David raises his hands as if surrendering himself when he notices the gun pressing into the side of your head. Your heart pounds as if it were trying to break free from your ribcages.

“I am unarmed” he states loudly, breaking the thick silence. “The money in the trunk. I’m gonna open it slowly and you can come get it.”

The lack of reply is his signal to go on.

He slowly takes his steps toward the back of his car. Keeping one hand high and his broad frame forward, he unlocks the trunk and leaves the key in the keyhole as the trunk door springs up.

One of the masked men order him to step away from the car and keep his hands before walking over the distance towards him. David’s eyes blink nervously as they watch you. Every step seems to take a lifetime. He just wants this to be over.

Once the man reaches the vehicle, he opens the bags to inspect their contents. The longer he rummages through them looking for what David believes to be a tracker, the more he blinks nervously.

Your knees buckle from the anxiety. Your fiancée is just so close and still so far. The gun to your hand is the only that grounds you and keeps you from running into his arms.

You sigh almost relieved when you see the man lifting the bags from the trunk, seemingly satisfied with the money. Walking back to his lackeys, he orders his guard dog to ‘let the bitch go’.

Your head spins as his words sink in. A blade glides between your wrists as the silver duct tape around them is cut. The gun lowers from your head, so you rush to cross the distance as you race to David.

You almost can’t believe you finally get to go home, to finally be with the man you love more than anything. Tears stream down your stained cheeks.

You’re too stunned to even pull the tape off or the gag off; like you’re walking in a dream. None of this feels real. It’s almost too good to be true.

Halfway to your fiancée, you hear a familiar sound that freezes your heart. Your gut sinks low as if the world’s been pulled out from underneath you. Red and blue lights glow in the distance and you realize David didn’t come alone.

[synapsid-taxonomy]

On Smilodon mouth tissue

Keep in mind through this entire post that this is pretty rough and I don't specifically study sabercats. But we might as well take a closer look at the controversial Smilodon lip and gum tissue and see what it'd look like step-by-step. Let's start with a Smilodon skull (real fossil, not cast) with articulated sabers. Keep in mind the tip of this saber is broken off.

You can pretty clearly see the division between the enamel-covered portion of the teeth and the cementum. In modern felids, this cementoenamel junction is roughly where the gum line ends, and this is also what Riviere and Wheeler 2005 concluded for Smilodon. So if we take that and apply a gumline to this skull, it looks like this:

Now that looks like a pretty deep gumline! The full canines of Smilodon don't necessarily need to be covered by lips; even though they are covered by enamel, it's a very thin coating that doesn't require extensive hydration. This is also the case with the fangs of musk deer and Chinese water deer, who have their canines hanging on the outside of the mouth. These fanged deer, as well as tusked synapsids like walruses and Tiarajudens, have canines that project far beyond the bottom of the lower jaw (see below for the alternative) - and none have the massive bloodhound lips you may see around for Smilodon.

The gums, however, would need to be hydrated and covered by the lips. So that pink line could be an indicator of the minimum extent of the lip margin. But what I notice about these gumline comparisons is that we're looking only at the skull. If you bring in Smilodon's mandible and articulate it so that the mouth is closed...

The gumline doesn't go below the margin of the lower jaw. So the upper lips would not need to droop beyond the margin of the lower jaw. And as discussed above, the rest of the canines wouldn't necessarily need to be covered. Goodbye bloodhound Smilodon. This is consistent with how the lips do not droop beyond the margin of the mandible in any "saber-toothed" animal. Fanged deer and walruses have exposed canines. Clouded leopards keep their impressively-sized canines in the mouth; while the lips are relatively big, they don't droop over the lower jaw...

And saber-toothed animals that aren't smilodontines - including other true sabercats like Homotherium - don't actually have teeth that project beyond the bottom of the lower jaw (accounting for tooth slippage). Most of them have a deepened "chin" that follows the sabers. So it's possible, if not likely, that these animals simply had sabers covered by the soft tissue of the lower jaw when the mouth was closed. That would keep the teeth and gums moist regardless of how far down the gums went. Even if the teeth were exposed, the upper lips still wouldn't need to go very far down to keep the gums moist (you can see where the cementoenamel joint is on the Eusmilus skull replica in the lower right).

(top: Homotherium; bottom left, Thylacosmilus)

Now let's take the rigorous reconstruction of Smilodon from Turner et al. 2011 - and overlay it over the image above, to see if "traditional" Smilodon lips would cover all of this expanded gumline or not.

That looks like a pretty close match, I'd say! Being generous (and looking at clouded leopards as a very rough guide), I can see the margin of the upper lip maybe going like this. Lippier than usually pictured, but not shockingly so.

So not much would change.

Now, why would Smilodon need such deep gums? Simple - the longer a tooth is, the easier it is to break off. So more extensive gum tissue would help stabilize the sabers in the mouth. Which makes sense. The current model for sabercat predation is that they would subdue prey using their beefy muscled forelimbs, and only use the sabers at the end for the killing neck-puncturing bite. Don't wanna break them beforehand.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Tangled ropes

Pairing: Sailor!Bucky x reader

Summary: A new sailor arrives at the docks amongst Captain Barton’s crew. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, the way he carries himself, or perhaps it’s the way his eyes are the echo of the ocean in color and depth. But something about him makes you want to untangle the ropes that seem to choke his spirit.

Word count: 8.2k

Warnings: allusions to death, slight mentioning of illness, scared reader, a dog in distress (he’ll be fine)

Author’s note: okay so, I actually wanted this to be a one-shot, turns out that’s not gonna happen. I'm working on a second part, but I also didn’t forget about my series 'breaking chains'. So I can’t say what I'll be focusing on next. Let me know what you think, and please be kind because I love this! <3

Masterlist

The docks always held a special place in your heart. It was lively. The air hung heavy with the scent of brine and tar, a salty tang that clung to your clothes and hair long after you left, but you never really minded it - you embraced it. It was the scent of home.

Sun-bleached wooden planks groaned under the constant foot traffic. Wooden stalls lined the piers, their colors all varying and mismatching but it held an undeniable allure.

Fishmongers stood side by side, with hoarse voices from hawking their glistening displays of cod, oysters, plump lobsters, and perhaps the occasional octopus that writhed in wicker baskets. The lovely woman with the sun-kissed skin, who sold vibrant bouquets of wildflowers always greeted you with a beaming smile when you went to get some florals for your mother.

Dockworkers always bustled around, wrestling crates and barrels, their shouts punctuated by the rhythmic creak of ropes and the groan of timber under heavy loads. You held admiration for those men, watching them work all times of the day and weather, muscles sculpted and faces etched with sun and sweat.

Women in billowing skirts and sensible boots bartered with vendors or gossiped with each other, their baskets overflowing with fresh bread, glistening food, and colorful bolds of fabric; sometimes even some seashell jewelry or iron cookware.

You loved to watch the children running around and weaving through the people in glee, chasing after stray dogs or climbing rickety piles of rope, all while their laughter and shrieks echoed off the wooden planks. Seagulls cawed raucously overhead, swooping down for scraps or squabbling over morsels.

The best part, however, was the open ocean stretching before you, a cerulean expanse that mocked the limits of your vision, blurring into the hazy promise of a horizon forever beyond reach.

Your legs often guided you down to the docks on their own accord with an unbidden pull to let the untamed wind whip through your hair, nothing in its path to hold back, carrying the sharp and salty scent of the sea that would fill your lungs. You would usually close your eyes to take it in.

The rhythmic lap of the waves against the wood was a lullaby, a constant that soothed the ache in your heart. It was the closest you could feel to your father, the only connection that remained after the years of his absence.

But it was a strong connection.

Though time had dulled the edges of his memory, the warmth of his presence lingered in these salty breezes. You couldn’t recall the exact color of his eyes anymore, or the way his laughter crinkled the corners of them.

But the feeling of safety when he held you close, the love he held for you, and the endless blue expanse were etched into your soul.

Here, on the docks of your small port town, which had been a mere dot on the map for your father, a different kind of memory took root.

The sea became his domain, and so it became yours too. It was the anchor that held you fast - that vast emptiness that both echoed his absence and held the promise of a connection that could never be broken. It was a poignant yearning, a bittersweet symphony of salt and sorrow, that bound you to the rhythm of the waves and the memory of your father.

The sea held its secrets and you guessed it would hold your father's fate for eternity, ingrained into the indifference of the waves. He was a sailor even before you were born, exploring the ocean and the islands and cities that lay in their wake.

Every few months, sometimes years, he would return, his warmth and laughter filling the short gaps between his journeys. But those gaps grew longer, the laughter strained. Until the docks remained absent from his ship altogether.

Whispers and rumors had filled the void, twisting into conflicting narratives.

Some spoke of a terrible illness, a plague that had swept through his crew, claiming life after life until it finally took him too. Others muttered of a violent raid, your father perishing while defending his hard-earned goods. The most outlandish tales painted him a traitor, a man who’d abandoned his family and his life for the thrill of piracy, a black flag now his banner.

Your father was a well-respected sailor, having kissed the shores of countless countries, his name a murmur of respect in taverns across the globe. You had the evidence of that in souvenirs that cluttered your small home. A carved jade dragon from the East, a woven dreamcatcher from the West, polished seashells once laying on a beach - all from beyond the horizon.

So it was expected that people would talk and spread stories as to what might have happened to him. But no matter what they said and told you, your memories of him remained untainted.

He had shown you the art of knots, his patient hand untangling your fumbling attempts. You had practiced fiercely during the times he was gone. Perhaps he had wanted to give you a distraction. It had worked, because you one day helped him secure the ship to the dock, in recalling how to wove the ropes while he followed your instructions, since you weren’t able to do it on your own with your small and weaker hands. A triumphant grin had spread across your rosy cheeks as the ship was secured and your father had hoisted you up in the air, pride radiating from him in waves.

You would forever cherish the times he took you down to the docks, letting you wander around on his ship. You remembered his calloused hand guiding yours across the weathered deck. Your soft fingers had traced the grooves and marks in the wood, wondering how they made it there.

His voice was a blur in your mind, the cadence of his tone lost in time but you remembered how he would spin tales of adventures that made your eyes widen and laughter ring out across the open deck. He exaggerated monstrous waves, how he outsmarted the Kraken which was likely just a seagull, and described the creak of the ship as he fought a sea serpent - or so he had claimed.

All he wanted was to hear you laugh.

You had noticed how hard it was for him to leave every time, missing out on his daughter growing up. He carried around a heaviness, an ache burning in his eyes that mirrored the one in your mother's gaze whenever he set off again. It made you cling to him tighter when you could.

The image of him boarding deck and watching the ship shrink, shrink, shrink, until it was swallowed by the horizon had been a constant in your life. Unlike your mother, who couldn’t bear to watch him vanish, you had stayed until the last sliver of his ship disappeared, a tiny speck against the vast, indifferent canvas of the sea.

Those goodbyes had carved a hollow ache into your chest, a sorrow that had seemed to tear into your flesh and bones. You had felt his loss, mourned him even before the rumors of his death made their way to land. Yet, you had always wondered what really happened. Nightmares used to haunt you, showing you visions of him swallowed by unseen monsters lurking in the depths.

But as the years rolled by, a sense of peace bloomed alongside your grief.

The town itself became a living testament to your father. You had those souvenirs at home and the stories they came with. The people of the town spoke of his courage and kindness with a reverence that warmed your heart.

You even had him here, at this very moment, standing at the docks and watching the vessel of Captain Barton appear over the horizon.

Earlier, you had immediately perked up at the shouts and clanging from the lookout boy, announcing the arrival of the ship; dropping the unfinished basket you were weaving.

You had rushed down to the docks, joining the throng of merchants, ventures, dockworkers, and townsfolk already buzzing with anticipation, voices rising. The arrival of Captain Barton’s ship was an event, a chance to stock up on exotic goods your town wouldn’t otherwise see.

For years, Captain Barton’s crew had filled the void left by your father’s disappearance. While your father had ventured into the unknown, charting uncharted waters and bringing back exotic rarities, Captain Barton stuck to well-worn trade routes, providing your port town with silks, spices, tools, and trinkets.

You had never once missed the arrival of the crew, because it gave you a glimpse into the lifeline your father had sailed, even though it now was shrouded in mystery. It felt like a bridge across the endless of blue, strengthening the connection you had with him.

The ship grew closer and details came into view. It was nothing like your father’s had been, you could tell from the way it cut through the waves, a touch less weathered, a hint less daring. Captain Barton’s vessel boasted a newer sheen, the paint brighter, the sails crisper. But it carried the spirit of the open sea, the same spirit that had called to your father.

A smile spread on your face.

The wind whipped at your hair, carrying with it the tang of the sea and a thrill that danced in your stomach. You barely registered the young boy rocketing past you, your skirts billowing around your feet.

With each passing moment, the ship inched closer and your focus narrowed on the sailors scurrying about, mirroring your anticipation. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as a cannon boomed - a salute to the town.

Your heart thrummed inside your rib cage, matching the relentless pounding of the waves against the wooden piers. The shouts of the dockworkers, the excited chatter of the townsfolk, the thudding of feet on the weathered planks all became background noise for you, as you kept your stare on the ship.

Your intense focus shattered as you felt a tug on your hand. Snapping your gaze away from the approaching vessel, you looked down to see a small hand nestled in yours. “Papa is coming back!” Morgan shouted, her high-pitched voice ringing out in the din of the docks.

She tried dragging you through the sea of people, getting closer to where Captain Barton’s crew was about to dock. “Do you think he has something for me?” she asked you, blinking at you with wide eyes, laden with childish excitement.

You let out a soft laugh, squeezing her hand gently. “I’m sure he got you something, pumpkin,” you reassured her, laughing harder when she let out a delightful squeal, her eyes sparkling with pure joy as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

Morgan was like your little sister in all but blood. Her father, Tony, was amongst the crew mere feet away from the docks. He had once sailed alongside your father more than two decades ago. They grew up together, starting as cabin boys on the same vessel, and shared adventures for the years to come.

But a fickle wind that steered the course of lives had scattered them. There was an attack, one that had left Tony battered and scarred, physically and emotionally. He got away with his life, but only barely, and it was enough for him to choose calmer waters, a life under Captain Barton, away from the relentless call of the open sea. He had craved the security of a routine, in comparison to your father's love for adventures.

You never learned the exact details, never dared to asked, but your father never stopped speaking of Tony with a deep respect and a touch of melancholy, although they might have never crossed paths again.

Since your father's visits had ceased altogether and more people than not were sure he died on the open waters, Tony quickly became a second father figure to you, spreading warmth whenever he stayed on port.

Watching Morgan now mirrored your own childhood - a little girl waiting with wide-eyed wonder for a father who brought the world home with him, even if it was just for a fleeting visit.

You looked around for Pepper, Morgan’s mother, who likely stood amongst the bustling crowd. Like your own mother, she bore the weight of a sailor's wife; sharing whispered stories, anxieties calmed with the sight of a returning ship, and a love that stretched as vast as the ocean itself.

Thunderous cheers and shouts erupted around you once more and you couldn’t suppress your own cheers as they bubbled up in your stomach, watching the ship getting anchored. It loomed large now, its imposing shadow stretching across the docks. The rhythmic creaking of the ship as it settled against the pier exhilarated you, shivers running down your spine in waves.

Morgan craned her neck and you lifted her high in your arms, making sure she was able to see the spectacle. Her joyful excitement blended into the crowd.

You watched the crew on deck scurrying across the rigging, securing lines, and lowering gangplanks. The sails were being expertly furled.

You knew the process of the arrival by heart. As always, a team of dockworkers charged forward. Some were armed with thick ropes, attaching them to sturdy bollards lining the dock. Others used large hooks and secured lines flung down from the ship, ensuring it wouldn’t drift with the current.

Captain Barton stood on the quarterdeck of his vessel, waiting for the approach of the port officials, clad in crisp uniforms. They exchanged briefly, a verification of the ship's manifest - a detailed document listing the cargo and passengers onboard.

Then followed the health check. Another official, his demeanor seeming a little more gentle, stepped forward. He carried a satchel filled with vials and basic medical instruments. You didn’t hear what they said, but you knew the questions he would ask the Captain.

It were the same questions your father got asked, about any illnesses encountered during the journey, and if it were necessary to perform cursory examinations on some crew members.

Your father had always held his stoicism when talking to the officials, but you'd known him better than that. His eyes had shifted, subtly searching the crowd of onlookers for his family. His impatience was in the way his foot tapped on the wood and his hands adjusted his hat.

The curt nod of the official was the final permission for the sailors to enter the dock and once again, loud cheers went through the crowd. Captain Barton raised his hand in acknowledgment, a smile gracing his face and the gangplank was lowered, a sturdy wooden bridge connecting the ship to the dock.

The familiar crew began disembarking and you had to tighten your arms around a squeaking Morgan as her father stepped on the solid ground of the docks. You scanned the rest of the crew with a smile on your face. Years of Captain Barton’s arrivals had etched these men into your memory, their stories woven into the fabric of your life by Tony’s tales.

There was Bruce Banner, the ship's healer, always looking a little awkward at the attention they all received. He walked in the shadow of the hulking frame of Commander Odinson, who held the wisps of his long, blond hair in a red bandana. You spotted Gabe Jones, Dum Dum Dugan, and Jim Morita, who seemed to playfully wrestle with each other as to who would reach the docks first.

Other midshipmen followed, such as Steve Rogers, a gentle smile on his face as he looked out into the crowd. He looked stronger, you noticed. The shirt he wore was looser the last time you saw him, his shoulders now broader, and he carried himself in a way that made him look more masculine.

Joy bubbled within you, as you spotted the perpetually enthusiastic cabin boy, Peter Parker, bounding down the gangplank. His youthful grin was wide enough to split his face as he waved at the townsfolk.

Your smile faltered.

Behind Peter, an unfamiliar man descended to the wooden planks. He still looked younger than most men of the crew, maybe about Steve’s age, but in comparison to Steve’s gentle spirit, he carried himself with a quiet, almost stoic calmness. He didn’t seem overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of the docks, as if he was used to it by now, though he also didn’t look like he acknowledged anything around him at all, seeming indifferent. He wasn’t part of the crew the last time, you were certain.

There was a subtle tautness to his movements, a hint of a muscular build beneath the worn fabric of his shirt. You studied him as he disembarked to meet his crew. He wasn’t really smiling, you noticed. He wore more of an unreadable mask. It wasn’t a frown exactly but it looked detached, that made you wonder what burdens he might carry.

He barely even lifted his face to watch the crowd but you still caught glimpses of the sharp jawline and the contours of his nose. His hair looked a little unruly and windswept as a few brown strands fell onto his forehead.

As his worn boots met the solid ground as well, he clapped Steve on the shoulder, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. But before you could glean anything further, the throng of people surrounding you shifted, momentarily blocking your view.

A pang of disappointment burrowed in your stomach at the lost sight of the stranger. You craned your neck, hoping to catch another glimpse, but Morgan wriggled in your grasp and you managed to set her down gently before she launched herself at an approaching Tony.

He scooped her up effortlessly, her giggles muffled against the rough fabric of his slightly torn shirt as he twirled her around. With the unfamiliar sailor momentarily forgotten, you stepped forward yourself, a smile so wide on your face, it ached in your cheeks.

Tony beamed at you; shifting his daughter to one arm, her tiny fingers wrapping around his neck like a lifeline, and pulling you to his chest with the other.

“Well, well, look at you, all grown up, eh young lady?” he teased, his voice a warm rumble over the din docks. He leaned down, his salty beard tickling your hair as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

You rolled your eyes, though laughter spilled from your lips, despite yourself. “Grown up for years now, Tony,” you protested, your smile ever-present. Relief and a deep sense of contentment filled your chest and you took a deep breath so as not to let your emotions overwhelm you.

He smelled of the sea, with the hint of dust, wood, and sweat - a heady concoction that somehow felt like home.

He released you slightly, but not before holding you at arm's length for a closer look. “Still, you seem to have spouted a good inch or two since last I saw you, dear one. Are you eating properly? How fares your mother?”

“Mother is well, Tony,” you replied, your voice a gentle reassurance at the worry you read from his eyes. “And we are both well-fed. We manage to keep the food cupboard stocked.” His concern tugged at your heartstrings and you reached out to gently squeeze his arm. “No need to fret over us,” you added gently, though, with a hint of a playful drawl and it eased the lines on his face.

As Pepper joined you, hugging and kissing Tony with tear-filled eyes, you decided to let them have their moment and started pacing the docks, taking in the usual frenetic energy. Old Hughes, the gruff-looking but fair cobbler, unfurled his work canvas awnings, displaying a colorful array of boots and shoes for the sailors. Mrs. Cook, a stout woman with a booming voice, set up tables laden with fresh bread, glistening cheeses, and plump, juicy fruits.

The dockworkers had already swarmed the ship, lowering large wooden crates filled with the cargo. The gentle breeze carried the sweet perfume of exotic spices right over to you as you took another deep breath. The sailor's crew helped unload the crates. Some were hauled onto large flatbed carts pulled by dockworkers, while others, the smaller and lighter ones, were hoisted onto the shoulders of the sailors.

You watched with fascination how they all seemed to joke and tease each other while still working efficiently. Their grunts and laughter carried over the lively chatter of the townsfolk.

Your eyes swept through the crowd on their own accord, trying to find the unfamiliar sailor, not knowing exactly what made you so interested in seeing him again. But you also didn’t put much effort into trying to suppress that nagging curiosity that tugged at you.

Lost in your search for the guy, you completely missed the treacherous snag lurking beneath your feet. A thick hemp rope, used to secure a nearby crate, lay coiled and unsuspected. You were about to take a step forward but your boot promptly caught on its rough weave, sending a jolt through your leg and nearly toppling you over.

A startled gasp escaped your lips as you lurched forward, flailing for something to break your fall. Your hand quickly grasped a sturdy wooden post, one of many supporting the overhead awning of a nearby vendor. The worn leather of your boots met the worn wood of the planks with a resounding thud, echoing through the bustling dock.

You held your breath, bracing yourself for a painful collision with the ground. But luckily the post held firm, helping you regain your balance. A wave of relief swept over you, quickly followed by a pang of embarrassment.

You glanced down, wincing as your gaze fell upon the culprit. The hemp rope, still tangled around your boot, had caused a small tear in the fabric of your skirt. Taking a deep breath, you knelt down, fumbling with the coarse rope until it loosened its hold. With a sigh, you inspected the damage. The tear wasn’t major, but it was certainly noticeable, and your mother surely wouldn’t like it.

You rose to your feet and looked back up, just to meet the eyes of the brunette sailor, the unfamiliar man. You stilled in your movements, staring back at him. He still stood a little in the distance, a half-hoisted crate resting precariously on his shoulder as he was slightly turned in your direction. His gaze was pretty clear, but his expression was unreadable.

He didn’t seem to feel as uncomfortable as you, though. The way his eyes flit over your form, lingering on the part of your skirt you had just ripped wasn’t intrusive, but rather a quick assessment, as if gauging whether you were injured. He held your gaze for a beat longer than necessary and you almost could have believed he was able to hear your heart pounding over the distance. Perhaps he could see through you, watching the blood rush through your veins and up to your cheeks as they heated up.

He turned away then with a curt and subtle nod you wouldn’t have picked up if you weren’t watching him so intensely. You might even interpret it as satisfaction at seeing you regain your footing, or simply a confirmation that you were alright.

His gaze very well may have lasted for mere seconds only but you were flustered. You weren’t sure why his brief scrutiny had sent a jolt through you, or why you felt a curious mix of embarrassment and intrigue. Perhaps it was just the fact that you weren’t used to seeing a new face around here. Especially as handsome as his.

Absentmindedly, your hands brushed over your skirt as they had gotten a little clammy and you couldn’t help but steal another glance at him.

The mysterious sailor had returned to his work, carrying the crate on his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt strained across his back, revealing those broad shoulders. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick forearms, with a few veins running up and disappearing behind the fabric. Pale pink lines seemed to be marrying his left arm - scars, undoubtedly - though the details were blurred by the distance.

Your attention caught the couple rips in the fabric of his shirt, revealing skin on his shoulder and a little on his side. All your father's shirts had been adorned with similar tears. One day, you had asked about them and he had granted you with one of his gruff laughs. “Keeps the pirates at bay, my sweetheart,” he had said, with a twinkle in his eyes.

It wasn’t true of course. You always knew that, but your father's playful answer had instilled a sense of comfort back then, making you feel like he was safer out there than he actually was.

The brunette navigated the bustling docks with a practiced gait and you narrowed your eyes at him as your gaze followed him weaving between towering crates and barrels, his destination likely a designated storage area near the harbormaster's office, depending on the nature of the goods he carried. Your gaze remained fixed on him until he disappeared behind the market stands.

****

You had finished the basket you’d been weaving as the boy on lookout had announced the arrival of Captain Barton's ship - a sturdy work of woven reeds, perfect for carrying fresh bread or plump vegetables.

Your mother had insisted you could finish it tomorrow, but you still had a lot more to do and you needed the money.

The day had bled into dusk by the time you had sold it for a few coins down at the marketplace, the fiery orange of the setting sun replaced by the cool, silvery glow of the moon.

The rhythmic clatter of cobblestones beneath your worn boots echoed around the brick walls around you. The salty tang of the sea was now tinged with the smoky aroma of woodsmoke, wisping from chimneys.

Laughter, boisterous and male, spilled out from a nearby tavern - perhaps Captain Barton’s crew drowning their sorrows or celebrating their return in mugs of rum and ale. You made out raucous singing, sometimes punctuated by a heavy thump on the table. You could even glimpse a few silhouettes through the grimy windows, swaying and stomping to the tune of a jig played on a weathered fiddle.

The melody of a lone violin drifted from a brightly lit window a few steps further down the road, and you found yourself listening fondly.

You weren’t surprised to find your feet carrying you back towards the docks. The festive chaos of the arrival had subsided, leaving murmured conversations reaching your ears from people lost in the shadows.

The ache your father had left you with had dulled throughout the years, becoming a part of you. Most days, it resided peacefully in the background, a constant but manageable hum. But on these days, when the excitement of Captain Barton’s arrival ceased, your composure would usually fray at the edges.

A heavy fog rolled in, settling like a lead weight on your chest. It squeezed your heart, not with a fist, but with a thousand tiny, suffocating fingers. The air thinned in your lungs, replaced by a hollowness that echoed in your stomach. A hollowness no amount of food or water could ever fill.

So, the docks were the only place you could find a semblance of solace.

You knew better than to walk on the open docks at night, staying in the shadows of a few shops near the pier. You made out the rhythmic creak of rocking ships, the groan of a straining rope. Moonlight danced on the water, casting shimmering pathways that stretched out towards the inky blackness of the open ocean.

Gas lamps strung along the docks, casting pools of warm orange light that struggled to penetrate the bat darkness of the harbor. In their flickering glow, dust motes waltzed.

Further down the docks, you made out the rhythmic hammering of a lone shipwright, his work illuminated by a flickering torch.

A new sound pierced the night air.

It began faintly, a whimper barely audible over the creaking of ships and the distant shouts coming from taverns.

But with each passing second, the sound grew louder, a plaintive whine morphing into desperate cries.

It was a dog.

Your heart lurched. You scanned the dimly lit docks, your eyes flitting from shadowy figures to stacked crates. The whimpers and cries were frantic, leading you towards the easternmost pier, a relatively deserted area where a few neglected fishing boats lay moored.

There, half-hidden beneath the skeletal frame of an old, beached vessel, you spotted it. A dog - a scruffy mutt with a coat the color of dried mud and a desperate glint in his eyes.

It was entangled in a thick mess of rigging rope, the lines binding its legs and torso like cruel restraints. The dog's frantic struggles only tightened the knots, its whimpers turning into pained yelps.

Adrenaline surged through you. Your mother warned you enough times to stay away from the docks at night. They could be treacherous, a labyrinth of shadows and unseen hazards. Yet, the dog’s whimpers tugged at your heart, echoing the silent emptiness within you.

You pushed aside the trepidation that had coiled your gut and rushed towards the pained dog, without further thinking. The moonlight was the only glow you could lean on as you knelt beside the tangled animal.

“Hey there, fella,” you murmured, speaking in a soothing tone, probably more for your own reassurance than anything else, as you reached out a tentative hand. The dog flinched, knots tightening, a low growl rumbling in his chest. You kept your movements slow and deliberate. Your father had once told you to avoid eye contact as a sign of non-threat.

Taking a closer look, you assessed the situation. The ropes were wrapped around its front legs and middle in a haphazard manner. The knots, however, seemed more amateurish than sailor-made, a tangled mess rather than a secure bind. That’s why the poor thing must have gotten caught. This wouldn’t have happened with the right knots. You didn’t see any blood on the ropes, nor the dog, but it wouldn’t take much for the rough material to nick his skin.

So you slowly extended your hand towards the dog's head, whispering low and soothing. You avoided its gaze, aiming for the reassuring scratch behind his ear that most dogs craved. If the dog remained calm, you could assess the knots more closely and see if there was a way to loosen them without causing further distress.

The dog's whimpers grew softer, visibly settling with occasional shaky breaths. He watched your hand, as you reached behind his ear, a tentative sniff grazing your palm.

Your relief at the dog's response to your gentle approach was cut short.

A figure emerged from the shadows, tall and broad-shouldered, casting a long, distorted form across the moonlit wood as it moved in your direction. A sudden chill crawled up your spine, panic jolting through your body and you instinctively snatched your hand back, almost tumbling over in your haste.

The surprised yelp of the dog at your sudden movements pierced the air, a sharp bark that echoed like a gunshot in the stillness of the night.

The figure in the distance quickened its pace, its shadow dancing grotesquely on the pale wood of the pier.

You were frozen. Completely and utterly frozen on the ground. Your heart was pounding erratically, almost painfully, threatening to drown out the dog's frantic barking.

Broken nails clawed at the wood underneath and a whimper nearly escaped your own lips. You felt as trapped as the dog - only that the ropes binding you in place, scratching and clawing at your skin, taking your breath away the more you moved; were fear.

Each rasping breath you could take in felt like a struggle, your chest a tight cage around your rapidly inflating lungs.

The warnings your mother had ingrained in your head, that the docks were no place for a young woman at night, swirled around in your mind in sharp and mocking whispers.

The newcomer, perhaps sensing your panic, slowed his approach. He raised his hands high in the air, palms open, taking a few measured steps forward, as if taming a frightened animal. Like you had with the dog just moments before.

How ironic.

“Woah there, easy,” he called out softly, as he came to a halt at a respectful distance, hands still raised in placation. Only the moonlight helped you make him out, casting his face in an eerie half-light, revealing him only in fragments.

Yet, it was enough.

It was him - the brunette sailor that had caught your attention earlier, with the sharp angles of his jawline, the strong bridge of his nose, and a hint of a scar over his brow you hadn’t been able to see over the distance.

You didn’t know if it was relief that swept through your body since it felt numb to feeling anything anymore, but you were able to draw in a somewhat steadying breath again.

“I mean no harm. Didn’t mean to scare you, apologies for that,” he continued and it was then that his voice finally registered in your mind. It was a low rumble, rough around the edges and tinged with a hoarse weariness. Yet, there was a hint of concern and something like a soft reassurance underlying his tone and it cleared the fog around your eyes.

His gaze was solely fixed on you, somehow ignoring the barking dog beside you. There was a faint crease that furrowed his brows, his lips tugging into a frown and his fingers twitched as if wanting to reach out to you.

Your voice remained trapped in your constricted throat as you concentrated on getting the air back in your lungs. The man before you seemed to soften further.

“Heard that dog cryin' like a lost soul. Had to see what all the fuss was about. I reckon that’s what brought you out here too. Mighty brave of you, though these docks ain’t the safest place for a lady after dark.”

He cast a brief glance around, his hands slowly returning to his side as he swept the dimly lit area before returning his gaze to you. It was too dark to make out the color of his eyes but they glinted with something you couldn’t make out as he lingered on your form. He tilted his head slightly, a slow smile forming on his lips.

You might have found it charming, disarming even, if your mind hadn’t been running on scrambled eggs.

“I remember you,” he countered softly, seeming patient to wait until your voice found its way back to you. “Saw you when we docked.” His gaze drifted downwards, lingering on the still ripped section of your skirt from your earlier inattentiveness. A line etched itself deep in his brow as his gaze traveled back to your face, seeing the tear up close. “I hope you didn’t hurt yourself there.”

Maybe the calming tone of the sailor also had an effect on the dog, because his whimpers had softened, replaced by weak pants. Or perhaps his struggle had simply drained him.

Regardless, you finally managed to pry your voice loose from your throat as you cleared it, the sound a little scratchy. You brushed the dirt and dust from your hands on your skirt and rose to your feet. Your legs still felt a little wobbly, but you regained your footing.

“I-I’m fine,” you croaked out and watched the way his shoulders relaxed, relief etching the lines on his face. His own chest visibly deflated with a released breath and his posture softened further.

“Let’s see how we can help our furry friend here,” he exclaimed after a moment's pause, as if remembering what he came here for in the first place. He took a step closer and crouched down to the height of the dog, you now towering over his seated form.

It surprised you. His actions, the way he spoke to you with an easy respect and approval that wasn’t always afforded to a young woman.

Especially not to you.

Your family name took a hit after the many rumors about your father's disappearance cursed the seas. There still were people praising him and talking about his adventures, but those would throw you pitying glances whenever you walked past. Conversations would halt, in fear you might crumble under the weight of some words. Of hearing your father's name. They would treat you like a fragile child. Or perhaps a ticking time bomb ready to blow up at any second.

Some treated you as a victim, some as a ghost, and others saw you as a heavy reminder of the shadow that had overcome the town at the perceived betrayal of your father to sail under pirates.

You grew accustomed to it - the pity, the suspicion, the condescension.

It still took you by surprise as you watched that man lowering himself beside you, with you towering over his crouched frame as if it meant nothing. His gaze had lacked judgment as it lingered on the tear in your skirt you obviously hadn’t changed since you ripped it. He only held concern.

It was a respite from the heavy loads you normally had to deal with and you felt a flicker of warmth chasing away some of that chill that had settled in your bones.

You snapped back to the present as the sailor reached for a small knife tugged at his belt. The worn leather handle was dwarfed by his hand, its blade a dull silver under the moon's glow.

“Don’t,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, squatting down beside him. His head twirled in surprise, a flicker of confusion crossing his features as his gaze met yours. The dog whined softly.

“He’s moving too much,” you explained, your voice regaining steadiness. “If you cut the ropes, you might nick him.”

A slow, amused smile spread across the sailor's face. It wasn’t a mocking grin, rather a playful challenge that crinkled the corners of his eyes. They were blue, you realized. “I’ve got a steady hand, doll,” he teased, his voice low and rich with amusement. “You doubtin' my skills?”

Heat flooded your cheeks, a blush creeping up your neck and you averted your eyes. “No, of course not! I didn’t mean-”

His warm chuckle cut you off, a deep sound that seemed to vibrate from the core of his being. His chin fell to his chest, brown strands falling onto his forehead as his shoulders shook slightly.

You hadn’t expected him to laugh but a strange sense of ease settled in its wake, making you suppress a smile of your own.

“No offense taken, doll,” he softly declared. “If you’re worried about the blade, then we will find another way to help the fella out.”

His voice was calm and gentle, a stark contrast to the gruff exterior he presented and the looming figure that had scared you as he had appeared from the shadows. Your heart skipped a beat, but not out of fear this time.

You decided to focus on the task at hand, to predict him recognizing the blush scorching your cheeks. “The knots are messy,” you assessed again, tracing the ropes with careful fingers. “We can untangle them if we find an opening.”

Scanning for any frayed ends, any loose thread that could serve as a starting point, your peripheral vision picked up on the sailor doing the same thing right beside you, letting his hands trace over the ropes. You worked in silence, the only sounds being the rhythmic creaking of the nearby ship, the gentle lapping of the waves, and a lone seagull's piercing squawk.

A smile grazed your face as you made out a frayed end peeking out from beneath a few knots. Deftly, you began to untangle the ropes, working with the kind of ease that came with years of weaving. You wound the excess rope around itself, creating a loose coil that wouldn’t snag on anything. The dog grew still as you neared his legs, whimpers replaced by shallow breaths.

As you worked the ropes against each other to loosen their hold, you felt your skin prickle with the gaze of the sailor on you. He had stilled his own movements, now watching you quietly, with an intensity that made it hard for you to focus. Perhaps it was some form of astonishment that radiated from him, you couldn’t tell, but it felt warm on your skin.

The brown mutt barely flinched as you unwound his legs, being exhausted by its ordeal. You worked your way to his middle, careful not to touch the sore parts of his body that had been squeezed. With a final tug, the last knot yielded, and the dog was free.

You breathed a sigh of relief, a soft smile curving your lips. “There you go,” you whispered, barely audible over the noises of the docks.

The little fella remained motionless for a moment, probably still in shock. But he quickly seemed to regain sense of his freedom and bolted away with a sudden yelp, disappearing into the shadows.

You were relieved he hadn’t gotten hurt in the process, still being able to run, but the sudden departure of the small dog left you a little disappointed.

Another comforting chuckle from the sailor, with a name you still had to learn, echoed beside you. “Consider him grateful,” he said, a lightness in his voice that made you laugh softly, tension easing from your shoulders.

You turned back to the discarded ropes, silence stretching for a few moments until you spoke up again. “He wouldn’t have gotten tangled up in those if they were secured properly,” you declared, your voice a quiet murmur, underlying a hint of resentment at the person who didn’t take his job very seriously.

The sailor looked at you for a few beats, then nodded to the heap of ropes. “And you know how to knot them correctly?” It wasn’t a challenge, nor was it laced with doubt or disbelief. There was a genuine curiosity in his tone, a spark of something deeper that caught you off guard.

Perhaps it was the way he had watched you work with that kind of amazement as your nimble fingers unraveled the knots. Or the way he looked at you with that glint in his eyes as if he already knew you would say yes. Maybe it was the satisfaction of helping a helpless dog in distress, or the intrigue this man had ignited within you, but a surge of confidence, unexpected and exhilarating, coursed through you.

“Are you doubtin' my skills?” You countered, mirroring his question from earlier, teasing in your voice.

A flicker of surprise, a delightful surprise, crossed his features, eyebrows shooting up. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, and he bit his bottom lip to prevent it from spreading. He looked away from you for a few beats, schooling his expression into a semblance of composure, but the amusement still danced in the corners of his eyes as he met yours again.

You turned your attention back to the ropes, beginning to feel that heat creep up your neck again at the way he looked at you. Starting to weave the rope in the familiar motions your father had taught you so many years ago, calmed the jitters that had taken root over you.

Moments passed in a contemplative silence until he broke it.

“I’m Bucky.”

You momentarily stilled in your movements, lifting your head to look at him. A touch of bashfulness colored his features and he lifted his hand to brush against the shadow on his chin.

“Should have introduced myself before. Rude of me not to.” He huffed out a breath, wincing at himself and you found his sudden shyness endearing, a soft smile on your lips.

“Don’t worry about it,” you replied sweetly, “it’s nice to meet you, Bucky.”

You liked the way his name rolled off your tongue, testing its weight on the night air. Your focus returned to the knots you were weaving, contemplating to tell him your own name, when he interrupted the silence again.

“Who taught you that?”

You hadn’t noticed how intensely he was watching you, gaze following the movements of your fingers as you secured another knot, your hands seemingly working on their own.

Mastering the skills of knotting was never really a necessity for you, though you remembered that broad smile, that had split your fathers face as you’d told him you wanted to learn more than the simple basics he’d shown you. It had been like a game, a simple way to impress your father and make him proud.

It felt like a gift tonight.

The way Bucky asked the question, so intimate and soft, as if he was as concentrated as you, mesmerized by the way your fingers moved.

“My father,” you answered him, voice laced with a fondness that always appeared when you got the chance to talk about him.

Bucky’s gaze lifted, his eyes searching your face. Perhaps he heard the glimmer of grief in your voice, or maybe the quiet pride that intrigued him to study your expression.

“He a sailor too?”

You took a second to answer. “He was.”

Silence settled over you both once more, it was heavier than before. Out of the corner of your eye, you made out that Bucky dipped his head slightly, perhaps as a silent gesture of respect, or he was simply lost in thought.

“I’m sorry,” he then countered, the words sounding clear in the night air. His voice was gruff, however, laced with something else, something like understanding.

You met his gaze again, with a small smile grazing your lips. You couldn’t quite read his expression, but it was captivating, the depths of his blue orbs drawing you in. Blue, like the rich, inky tones of the ocean you had looked upon so many times already and never could grow tired of.

Your hands had stilled as the intensity with which he looked at you was the only thing you could focus on. You felt both exposed and strangely safe under his gaze. There seemed to be so much hidden behind those eyes, as there was behind the horizon.

“What’s your name?” The question was barely a whisper as if he was just as lost in this moment as you were.

“Y/n.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed slightly. “Y/n? As in Y/n L/n? So, your father…he is…”

You let out a sigh, the sound heavy with a burden you’d carried for far too long. It wasn’t a secret, not exactly, but the whispers that followed your name became a constant itch you couldn’t scratch.

Not noticing how he used the present form at referring to your father, you confirmed his suspicion with a curt nod. “Yes, that’s him.”

A shadow crossed over his eyes. The softness his gaze held just seconds before had vanished, replaced by something unreadable, something dark. A shudder ran over your spine, a chill settling in your bones as if your body only now became aware of the nightly breeze that swept by.

His features were hardened over, as his gaze left you, staring beyond your shoulder. His jaw was clenched, as if in silent contemplation. There was a war brewing behind his eyes, a storm beneath the surface that mirrored the exaggerated tales of your father.

There was a tension that crackled in the air and you knew now that the chill you felt had nothing to do with the night air.

Uneasiness squirmed your stomach, but before you could act on it, Bucky’s gaze softened again, the storm clouds parting to reveal the azure depths. He cleared his throat with a subtle shake of his head, ridding himself of whatever had plagued his mind.

“It’s a nice name,” he stated, voice as gentle as before, but something lingered and you couldn’t put a name on it. “Now let me help you finish that.”

He reached for a length of rope, his calloused fingers moving with an ease that indicated he had done this a thousand times already, knotting them alongside you.

You finished in silence, the earlier tension easing a little but it still remained a faint echo in the air. You suddenly felt incredibly aware of his presence beside you, almost watching his movements more than your own.

Questions swirled in your mind, you didn’t dare to voice. Somehow Bucky’s shift in demeanor hadn’t scared you off as you believed it would have. It spurred the intrigue that had already simmered beneath the surface, a new layer to a man who was already an enigma.

Earlier the day, as you had watched him walk down the gangplank to meet his crew on the wooden plank you had glimpsed it already. The guarded detachment in which he had carried himself, an unvoiced burden that seemed to have a tight grip on him.

Maybe he was as tangled as the dog had been, invisible ropes wounding around his body - binding him, squeezing him, choking the warmth that had glimmered in his eyes moments before.

Thankfully, your father had taught you how to untangle them.

“We learn the rope of life by untying its knots”

- Jean Toomer

[eggyboyoart]

SAGAU Winged Creator

A/N: Two writings in one day?? Can be read as platonic or romantic, just a silly, goofy idea I has a while back.

Sagau, winged creator and Xiao being messengers. Like, Ninguang needed a letter sent to Beidou and The Creator just jumping at the opportunity to really stretch their wings. Of course, Xiao - ever the protector - naturally worries about their safety. So in a cheeky tone, The Creator suggests that Xiao spread his wings and fly with them to deliver the letters.

Now, The Creator's wings are similar to an Albatrosses, meaning they can lock their wings and float along wind currents - however, our dearest Xiao cannot. Meaning halfway through the journey, while The Creator hasn't even broken a sweat, Xiao is almost, basically falling out of the sky.

Xiao is in complete denial about this however- insisting that he is fine and not to worry about him. The Creator- the all knowing little bastard, just kind of- plucks him out of the air and just starts carrying him.

Xiao proceeds to flip out, telling The Creator not to waste their energy, and that he doesn't need to be carried. The Creator smugly says "I haven't broken a single swear while you are basically falling out of the sky. Besides- you're seriously telling me that you don't want me to hold you oh so closely?".

One peak down at Xiao's face reveals that even though his face is turned away, his ears are a violent shade of red. One angsty huff of breath later and a timid voice says "...I suppose carrying me for a short while would be beneficial...".

After carrying Xiao the rest of the way (despite his insistent protests-) and delivering the letters, you notice that Xiao seems to be experiencing some back pains! Which are most likely due to him straining himself back in the air.

As the gracious and kind Creator you are, you strongly encourage basically force him to let you give him a back/wing massage. He strongly resists at first- "such menial labour is beyond you, Youe Grave!".

However, no one can resist the chance to get a massage by the one and only Creator for long and soon enough, Xiao has melted into the bed, making the most heavenly noises while you massage his back muscles and the muscles in his wings.

[psychedelic-ink]

if youre looking for horny joel requests what about joel after surviving a life or death fight and dealing w how horny he got either by himself, with reader, or w tess (if youre down for that!!!)

sweaty, out of breath, and looking for release in whatever decrepit building hes in 👀

I love you anon (I went with reader since I wasn't sure which one you preferred more but for future reference, I'm def open to taking Tess requests too)

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

genre: smut, hurt/comfort

word count: 827

summary: joel survives and finds life deep inside of you.

warnings: blood mention, rough sex, feral!joel, choking, creampie, breeding kink

The sound of the rain hitting the windows is deafening. The heavy downpour makes it impossible to see outside as if the world beyond your windows has been erased. The darkness is only broken by the occasional flash of lightning, illuminating the room with a ghostly light. The street lamps are nothing more than blurred halos through the rain, casting a hazy glow on the walls. Droplets of water slide down the glass panes, creating a mesmerizing pattern. The world outside has been shut out and you are cocooned in your own little sanctuary.

However, you can’t focus on any of that—the rain, the earthy smell of the earth, the chaos. None of it. 

Instead, your moans and heavy breathing fill the dusty space, it mixes with the sound of rain, masking it from anyone else that might hear. Joel slams into you again and again, pressing you up the wall, his one hand nestled under your breasts as the other holds your naked hip, nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on your skin. 

It’s been ten minutes since he arrived home, bleeding and bruised. You came out of the room and the second thing you feel is the tip of his cock slipping into you. 

Both your bodies are slick with sweat and sex, his probably more so. His hand moves up and pinches your perked nipple, with a gasp, you press the flush of your ass into him, the stretch of his shaft sending a thrill of pleasure down your spine. Looking down, you notice dark prints lingering above your skin, it’s warm and stick— when lightning strikes you see a violent red following Joel’s fingertips. 

Your breath hitches, cunt clenching around him, he stifles a groan into your skin, teeth sinking into the slope of your shoulder. 

“J–Joel–” you moan, bracing yourself against the wall. “You’re—fuck—you’re bleeding,”

“I am,” he ushers out, his breath fans over the back of your neck. “But that doesn't matter right now,” 

Right as you’re about to protest he fucks the words right out of you, only his name dropping from your chapped lips. You smell iron. 

He stops and a sharp whine rips from your throat, you feel his lips kissing the skin behind your ear, his cock twitches inside you. “I just need you to take me,” he mutters, you can barely hear him. “I need to fuck you—’need to come inside you. Let me have this, please—” 

His voice cracks at the end, reminding you how truly broken he is. Biting your lips, you slowly nod— there’s only one thing left to say. 

“Fuck me, Joel. Fuck me however you want, I’m yours,” 

He lets it out as he exhales, “Shiiit, you’re gonna kill me with that tongue of yours.” 

Joel is thrusting into you again, his pacing fact and hard. You feel the rippling of your muscle, the room loud with the sound of skin hitting skin. He splits you in half, his shaft drenched with your slick. The air is blissfully knocked from your lungs each time he rocks his hips deeper into you, he drags his cock over your most sensitive spots, drawing moan after moan out of you. 

Your legs shake, arousal washing over you again and again. You feel the pressure building up between your legs, a pleasant warm tingle spreading from your sex to the pits of your stomach. Joel runs his hands over the blood marks, spreading it more and groaning as he sinks himself into your heat. 

You shatter when he tightly wraps his fingers around your neck, the cut of airflow makes you dizzy, a buzz settling behind your eyes. You choke and he tightens his hold. He buries himself into your heat as if it’s a means of survival, a way to breathe again, even for a brief moment. Your cunt throbs, insides fluttering as you gush around him. 

The inside of your thighs slick with arousal, the sounds of him fucking his hurt into you now louder. 

Joel’s hand drops to your hip, holding your thigh, his thrust shallow. You nearly collapse with a sudden breath of oxygen but he holds you, pushing you further into the wall. 

He spills into you with a guttural groan, he comes—and comes, comes, comes. It’s so much, he fills you with his seed to the brim, some of it trickling down around the length of him and adding to the wetness of your thighs. 

Joel holds you for a while, the rain now registering to the both of you. He drags his lips down the column of your neck, tongue tracing the skin above your pulse. You shudder. 

“I need to get you cleaned up,” he rasps. “Sorry,” 

“You need to get cleaned up too,” you tease, your fingers finding refuge above his forearm. “But how about I clean your wounds first.” 

When the hints of a grumble reach your hears, you click your tongue. 

“Please, Joel.” 

He sighs, “Fine.” 

[duhnova]

valley of broken dreams (and lilies) | lee jihoon

paring: producer!jihoon x daycare worker!fem!reader 

genre: angst, some fluff, more hurt than comfort (but there’s comfort i swear)

word count: ~3.8k

synopsis: you met jihoon when you were both young and dumb — a promise you two made to become big in the music industry laid shattered years later when you lost your ability to sing, and now you have to live in the shadow of your boyfriend while you struggle to come to terms with your broken dreams. 

warning(s): mention of food, mentions of illness/being sick/unknown disease, angst, some fluff, hurt comfort (kind of), let me know if i forgot anything! - don't mind grammatical errors/typos (me and @lovelyhan tried to catch them all, ily kai <3)

garden collab masterlist 

The rain splattered against your apartment window softly as you ate dinner alone, for the third night in a row. Your boyfriend's plate sat cold across from you in the dimly lit dining room as you pushed the food around on yours. 

Jihoon has been working non stop on music for the past few weeks, three different artists deciding they wanted to drop their albums within days of each other – leaving him to spend days on end in his studio. It was hard for you sometimes, to sit at home by yourself while he got to live out the dream the both of you had built together. 

Shortly after you two had graduated from high school you had fallen violently sick and the doctors were unable to figure out what was wrong. After months of antibiotics and surgeries to remove infected tissue, the disease seemed to go away but not without damaging your vocal cords beyond repair. The strain of singing was dwindling your ability to speak and so with much heartache you gave up your future as a singer, opting to go to university to become a school teacher instead. 

Jihoon, however never gave up his end of your dreams – not that you would ever ask him too but watching him grow big in the music industry made you feel like a shadow of your former self. No one knows your name and no one outside your inner circles ever will because of some twisted fate that left you broken. 

Becoming lost in your thoughts of what could’ve been you missed the way a tear slipped down your cheek, only noticing when a quiet sob shakes your body. You feel pathetic as you let your vision blur, the mantra of your broken dream ringing in your ears while your emotions flow out your eyes. 

The night continued to run silent as you put Jihoons untouched dinner in the fridge, saving it for later knowing he wouldn’t be home when you woke up. It was a vicious cycle you played. Every night you made enough dinner for the both of you only for him to spend the night in his studio and it would repeat until he showed up apologizing and promising to be home more for dinner only for him to break the promise a couple days later. 

But you never learned. 

“Y/N?” Jihoons tired voice called out into the silence of your shared apartment. It was Saturday so you should’ve been home at nine in the morning. Yet you were nowhere to be seen as he wandered around calling your name. 

Exhausted Jihoon doesn’t try too hard to figure out where you went as he goes to take a shower. He speculates that you’ve just gone to the store as he lets the warm water run over his aching muscles, all his stress washing away with the suds of his soap. 

While in the midst  of cleaning himself he starts to hum his newest work in progress. The soft melody echoed off the walls of the shower, completely drowning out the sound of you entering the apartment. 

“Jihoon?” You call out softly, excitement bubbling in your voice as you saw his shoes kicked haphazardly off to the side of the shoe rack you had set up the other night. You go to set the bag full of fresh produce on the counter while you grab a vase to put the bouquet of flowers you bought yourself in. 

You weren’t worried about the lack of response as you could hear the distant sound of the shower running, figuring he couldn’t hear you over the water. After a couple minutes of organizing the fridge you finally shrug your jacket off so you could wander deeper into the apartment. 

Freezing just outside the bathroom door you freeze, Jihoon’s soft voice was muffled by the door but you could make out his gentle singing. The song was soft and sweet, it reminded you of spring as you let his voice envelope you. 

No matter how long you’ve known each other you could never get over how beautiful his voice was and it pained you a little that he chose to hide it and stay behind the scenes. You got so lost in the song and the memories that you didn’t notice that the shower had turned off until a towel-clad Jihoon opened the bathroom door, yelping quietly. 

“Y/N!” He huffs quietly when his heart stops racing from being scared. “I didn’t hear you come… home..” His voice trailed off when your surprised, tear soaked eyes looked up at  him. “Are you ok?” He was gentle when he reached to wipe your tears. 

“Yeah.. That song..” He hummed quietly as he finished wiping off your tears. “It’s really pretty… Who’s it for?”

“Oh.. It’s for no one.” His hand falls from your face as his eyes flicker from yours to the wall behind you. “It’s just something I’ve been working on on my own.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head as you try to catch his eyes. “Maybe when you finish it you could play it for me one day.” One thing that Jihoon rarely does is invite you to his studio, and even though you two had a grand piano set up in the living room it hasn’t been touched in almost a year. A part of you knew it was because Jihoon didn’t like singing in front of you since you lost your ability to do so, but another part of you hoped that it was just because he was too busy or tired to do it. 

“Maybe..” He hums quietly, finally looking you in the eyes again. A pained smile graces his face when he notices the hopeful glimmer in your eyes, he knew if he stared too long he’d cave and sing it for you right then and there. Willing himself to gently push past you, your boyfriend makes his way to your guys’ room so  he could get dressed.

It was that awkward time of the year where summer was turning into fall and all the trees were dying while the air got chillier. You hated it. 

All the couples around you stood close together, basking in each other's warmth while you walked alone and cold. Jihoon was supposed to meet you an hour ago but you figured he got caught up with his work, like he always does. 

“Why am I even still here freezing my ass off?” You mumble to yourself as you glare at the fifth couple you’ve seen stop in front of where you were sitting so they could take a cute picture under the fairy lights that were set up in the trees that surrounded the little shopping district you were in. Just as you began to wallow a little too much in your self pity, your phone began to ring. 

“Hello?” You sounded a little bitter, not even bothering to check who it was that called you. 

“Ouch,” Seokmins' voice came through the other end of the phone. “You don’t sound too happy to hear my voice.” He laughs quietly when you curse and apologizes in a happier tone. 

“Sorry min, I didn’t realize it was you.” You pushed down all your sadness as you sat up a little straighter. 

“It’s ok,” He sounded tired but still chipper as ever. “What’s got you down sunshine?” Growing up with Jihoon you happened to befriend all of his friends, and Seokmin in particular became one of your closest friends as well and you two always fought over who was the real sunshine. 

“Nothing got me down,” You’ve always been a horrible liar and the scoff the Seokmin let out proved that to be true. “Fine.. Jihoon blew me off for work again.” You grumble bitterly. 

“See, now it makes sense why you answered the phone the way you did.” You could hear him moving around through the speaker. “Where are you right now?”

“I'm just outside loveity’s cafe, why?” 

“Well I called originally to see if my two best friends were free to have dinner tonight since I’m finally home from being overseas.”

“What!? You weren’t supposed to be home for another two weeks!”

“Surprise shawty.” He mumbles while laughing to himself, only to flinch when you yell out an exasperated call of his name. “Well the last two games got canceled due to the head coach landing himself in the hospital with a concussion so I decided to just come home while the rest of my team is spending their last weeks exploring.” 

“Well I’d love to have dinner with you min, but Jihoon hasn’t even answered my texts yet so I don’t know if that’ll happen tonight.” You sigh quietly.

“He didn’t answer my calls either, that's why I called you.”

“Oh gee thanks, glad to know I’m the second choice.” You joke before laughing at how dramatic his gasps sounded. 

“Well if you wanted, me and you could still go out. Ditch the workaholic and catch up since me and you haven’t seen each other since your birthday last year.”

“Has it really been that long?” 

“It has, I’ve been so busy transitioning into the big leagues I kind of forgot about everyone for a second.”

“As long as you don’t forget us forever.”

“I could never.” You could hear the smile in his voice and it was contagious. “So how about you stay right where you’re at and I’ll come meet you and we can do some catching up?” 

“Sounds good, however I will be inside Loveity’s when you get here because I’m pretty sure I can’t feel my toes anymore… I might even be missing one, I don't really know.” You both laugh as you stand up and stretch, the bench having made your back sore. 

“As long as it’s not the big one I’m sure you’ll live,” You shake your head as you head towards the entrance of the cafe. “I’ll see you in twenty though, ok?”

“See you in twenty.” You sigh constantly as you hang up the phone, the warmth of the cafe enveloping you as you go to order a hot chocolate while you wait.

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” Jihoon followed you around the kitchen as you cooked silently. You had been giving him the silent treatment for the past thirty minutes or so since he walked through the door. “Y/N please, just look at me for two goddamn seconds!” 

That finally made your head snap in his direction, your eyes glassy as you fought with every ounce of your body to not start crying right then and there. You could feel the anger and tears shake through your body as Jihoon stood like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” Your voice shook but it didn’t crack, much to your appreciation. 

“I- '' he swallowed the lump in his throat because he knows there's a million things he could be apologizing for but at that moment he doesn’t know exactly what he did wrong. 

“I constantly feel like a fool,” You mumble, you were never one to express when you felt things like this but it finally felt like you had enough. “I don’t even know if you're blowing our plans off because of work anymore.”

“What?” He sounded genuinely confused. 

“We were supposed to have lunch today, I even texted you to remind you because I knew if I didn’t you weren’t going to remember… But I guess that didn’t work anyways.” 

“You didn’t text me..” Jihoon pulled his phone out with a frown only to see in the midst of a million other notifications there was indeed a text from you at eleven a.m reminding him about your reservations. “Fuck..” He sighs quietly. 

“Normally I’d be fine with it but it's as if you were just blowing me off because of work but you went to have lunch with some other girl..”

“It’s not like that and you know that.” He took a step towards you but stopped when you turned back around to focus on the broth of your soup that was finally boiling.

“I do know that, but the media doesn’t.. To them famous Producer Lee Jihoon was spotted on a date with some stupid singer who they speculate he left his girlfriend for.” You very aggressively stirred the contents of your pot, only calming down when Jihoon gingerly wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. 

“It’s just a stupid rumor,” He mumbles as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “You know that, because obviously I didn’t leave you.. I’m just a dumbass.” He sighed as he squeezed your waist tighter. 

“I just…” You stop stirring as you slump back against his body a little. “I know music is your dream but.. I’m starting to feel like I don’t fit in with that dream anymore.” You whisper. 

‘What? Are you stupid?” You flinch when he pulls away, grabbing your shoulders so he can spin you around to face him. “This dream wouldn’t have even happened if it weren’t for you, I built everything I have because of you, so don’t even think that you don’t belong.” 

“This dream…” You swallow quietly. “This dream of ours, isn’t what it used to be… I can’t sing anymore Ji.” You watch the way he flinches, his eyes filling with sorrow and you want nothing more than to scream. You were sick and tired of the same battles that always ended with someone pitying or wallowing in what could’ve been. 

“This dream of ours can still work though.” He tried to reason as his fingers squeezed your shoulders tighter. 

“How!” You were getting fed up with the conversation already, the wound of the past ripped open enough. “The only way it can work is if I magically get my ability to sing back, but news flash Jihoon, we don’t live in some disney movie where the writers can just make us a happy fucking ending!”

“You just have to let me try!” His voice began to raise with yours, how it escalated so quickly was beyond you but the frustration was high in both of you. 

“Try? You won’t even sing your own songs out of fear of rejection from the music industry so how the hell are you supposed to ‘try’ Jihoon?”

“I don’t sing! You know this, it’s why you have always performed whatever I wrote!”

“You do sing though! I hear you in the bathroom or while you're working out! You can sing Ji, you’re just too scared too!”

“I’m not scared either! I’ve never been a singer though, it was always you.”

“Well I’m not a singer anymore and I will never become one again.. You have to give up that image of the past and move on.” 

“I’m not moving on from this dream or from you.” His voice still dripped with anger but it wasn’t as loud anymore. He didn’t even give you a second to respond before he was stepping backwards away from you and turning around to leave the kitchen. 

You stood there silently and listened to him walk down to what you assumed was your bedroom. You didn’t question him as you heard his keys jingle as he walked back down the hallway and haphazardly put his shoes on before aggressively opening and closing the door to your apartment. 

“Why’re you letting me hold back your dream.” You finally let a tear slip from your eyes as you turn back to your soup that you were pretty sure was burning a little bit.

“Look! Look!” Your niece aggressively shoved her crayon drawing in your face as you laughed quietly at the way she was describing the scene she made. “It’s you, Uncle Ji, and me at the park! And we had a duck.”

“A duck?” You smile adoringly, it wasn’t often you got to spend time with her as your sister lives out of town but you cherished the days she dropped her off while she ran errands in the area. 

“Yes, we found it.” She puts the drawing down to go back to coloring.

“Where did we find the duck?” You lean over to watch as she draws a little pond.

“At the pond silly!” She giggles and draws even more ducks in the water. 

“We can’t keep it forever though.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s family will miss it, see.” She pointed at all the little baby ducklings. “It's the daddy with the babies.”

“Oh? We have the mommy duck then?”

“We do.” She nods as she stares intensely while she draws more flowers around the water. In the midst of her finishing her masterpiece your niece asks you a question that floors you. “Can we sing when I’m finished?”

“Sing?” You look at her wide eyed, she’s never heard you sing before.

“Yeah.. Mommy says you and uncle Ji used to sing all the time.”

“We did when we were younger, I’m not like I used to be.” You smile gently at her. 

“What does that mean?” She looks up at you curiously. 

“Well.. I got sick and so I don’t sing anymore.”

“Sick?” She tilts her head.

“It’s a long story my love,” You pat her head gently. “But I’ll tell you what. If you clean up everything we can sing one song and that's it, ok?” She nods her head quickly, and excitedly squeals, leaving her as she hurriedly cleans up her mess.

You have never seen a kid move so quickly before when it came to cleaning up. All your kids at the daycare would rather sing along with you as you sang the clean up song to get them to hopefully clean up faster. 

“Done!” She jumps in front of you after returning from putting the crayons back where they went. 

“You're eager aren’t you.” You smile as you stand up and lead her towards the giant white piano that sat in the corner of the room atop a raised platform. 

“Mommy says your voice is beautiful.”

“Well, hopefully she’s still right.” You sit down at the piano, a pit forming in your stomach as you brushed your fingers over the freshly cleaned keys. “What shall I sing?”

“The last song you sang.” You shake your head, the last song you technically sang was the wheels on the bus and that was for the kids at your work. “Favorite song?” You hum quietly as you think hard about what your favorite song is.

“I can do that.” You took a second to refresh your memory on how it went but once you hit the first key it was like a river flowing out of you. The words rang flawlessly, as if you hadn't quit singing like that years ago. 

The loudness of the piano mixed with the adrenaline running through your ears. You didn’t notice the front door open and Jihoon walked in. He stood frozen at the front door, staring at the way your niece looked at you with stars in her eyes as you sang just as beautifully as he remembered. He almost started crying because he hadn’t heard your voice in so long, and the warmth it brought him almost made him fall to his knees. When you finally finished the song his clapping startled you and your niece as she stopped mid clap to yell in surprise. 

“Ji!” You stand from the piano nervously, you weren’t supposed to be singing, the activity of straining your vocal cords. “You're home early.” You look at the clock to see it was only one in the afternoon.

“I finally finished the last album..” He took his backpack off and gently set it on the table by the front door before he's taking his shoes off to swap them for his house slippers as he sets them on the shoe rack. 

“Uncle Ji!” Your niece giggles as she finally runs up to him and jumps in his arms. He laughs quietly and spins her around, asking her about her day. You felt a small pang in your chest as you watched them interact with each other, the longing for a family hitting you full swing for the first time in months. 

“Y/N?” Jihoon mumbled worriedly, startling you out of your little daydream. He was standing right in front of you now, your niece having ran off to grab something you assumed. 

“Yes?” You whisper quietly, looking into his eyes before jerking to cough into your sleeve. “Sorry..”

“You’re not supposed to be singing like that..” His voice was filled with worry as he gently rested his hand on the side of your neck.

“I know, but it’s the first time I really sang in years and I couldn’t say no to her..” You give him a sheepish smile. “Besides, she’s never heard me sing before.” 

“I just don’t want you to ruin your voice for good..” He rests his forehead against yours, the urge to tell you he’d miss the way you said ‘I love you’ on the tip of his tongue but before he could say anything else your niece comes running back into the room with a build-a-bear that she had made to look like him.

“Uncle Ji look! It’s you!” She giggles as she forces her way between you too to show him the cat up close. Jihoon laughs quietly as he picks her back up to look at it more closely.

“This isn’t me!” He laughs louder when she clicks the paw so that a voice recording of him talking plays. “Ok maybe it’s close to being me.” 

Days like this made you realize that maybe this dream you built with Jihoon really was perfect in its own way. Even if you couldn’t sing like you used too, you still had each other and the necklaces that you wore signified that – the old lily of the valley flowers that hung from the chains were unique to their creator, the both of you having made them for one another back when you had made the promise to become big stars one day.

feedback + reblogs greatly appreciated!

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. / chapter seven.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F!Reader (Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin)

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: Day 160 - also known as the day Levi found you in the middle of the night.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Eventual Romance, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Flashbacks, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Touch Starved Idiots, Masturbation

( Read on AO3 )

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CHAPTER SEVEN.

She’s borderline insane.

As days past, day into night and night into day, that is all Levi can think about. Even when he knocks you down, you're still getting back up. Even when he bests you, you ask for another round. You’re still putting your fists up like you can take him, like you’ve got an ace up your sleeve for his eventual downfall.

Except that card was played long before you got fucked in the head.

(You were always fucked in the head, in an ironic way, since the day he met you.)

Truth is, he likes sparring with you. You'll proudly sport a bruise, two, five. You'll hold your chin high as you limp into the mess hall, undeterred by a pulled muscle in your leg.

In a way, there's a sliver here that feels like nothing ever went wrong.

You're still you.

And because you're still you, he won’t go easy on your daily training — can’t, not when he can feel you judging from across the dirt circle, waiting for the second he'll go soft and let you crack a decent uppercut or a surprise kick.

You’re right to assume such; there's no reason to bruise your ego on top of the bluish-green patches on your body. He finds himself holding back only when you stumble.

(The spineless higher-ups really should come out here for just a day see how determined you are to stay on your feet.)

Levi says up — you’re already standing. Levi says don’t think — you’re already acting.

He doesn’t need to urge you to fight harder, because you do it all on your own.

You don’t need him.

You’ve never needed him.

Yet you seek him out anyway, with every free moment you have. Levi Ackerman has to stay poised, controlled, distant.

God forbid you get the wrong idea, like somehow he’s going to buckle at the knee and cave with all of his sins at your altar. 

He’s never been one to pray, so why would he feel the need to confess?

He doesn’t need the questions. You don’t need the judgment from the rest of the team. The arrangement works for what it is:

Compromise.

Except he can’t fucking sleep when you’re here under the same roof. He incessantly fidgets in his captain’s quarters, pacing back and forth over and over in a broken-record loop.

Why is he so agitated all the time? Why is he so restless?

Every time he thinks about knocking on your door after hours, Levi drags on his chickenshit pants and turns the other way.

Every time he considers asking you to join him on a walk around the grounds for a patrol, he shoves his mouth with soup and leaves the mess hall hungry.

Every time he so much as thinks about you, he wants to bash his fucking head through the wall.

You’re right there.

You’re right goddamn there, and he can’t do a thing about it.

Tonight, however, is different — because his late-night pacing gets interrupted. Through an open window, he sees it play out in real time: a person with an emerald cloak and a lantern leading their way to the… stables?

No. Levi side-steps the billowing curtains at his bedroom window to watch the person below feel their way through the dark, clearly looking for something, until their fingers catch onto a thick patch of vines that lovingly caress the side of the supply building to…

Climb it?

Squinting, the captain shifts off the heel of his boot to lean beyond the window's edge.

The person outdoors struggles to climb one handed, yet they eventually manage to get to the top. They drop the lantern on the stone roof, resting on all fours to catch their breath.

When their hood flicks off of their head as their chin lifts to the sky, his eyes abruptly widen.

It’s you.

He’d know that hair anywhere.

Like a bat out of hell, Levi grabs his own cloak and rushes out of his bedroom before he can stop to think about what the fuck he’s doing.

If you’re in trouble, then he needs to know. If there’s something wrong, he has to ask—

(Why is he so fucking frazzled all the goddamn time anymore?)

By the time he reaches the supply building, he can see it: the faint glow of your lantern fading in and out from view, expanding and contracting. Levi swiftly uses both hands to climb the veins, popping his head over the roof’s edge.

You’re sitting cross-legged, staring up at the sky.

His chest constricts as the flame of the lantern wavers.

“Hey.”

It’s almost cute, how much you jump in the air with a chortle of frightened surprise. You fumble for the lantern like it’s about to topple over before snapping your attention back at him, wide-eyed and startled. Levi keeps his expression neutral no matter how bad he wants to laugh.

Then you melt, like he is no danger to you.

That recognition.

Shit, he’s missed you remembering who he is.

“Captain.”

He doesn’t enjoy, however, how formal you get around him.

“No one’s here, shithead,” he replies, climbing the last two rings of the vines before dropping his knee to the roof. “You don’t have to do the Captain crap.”

Call me by my name, is what he quietly begs.

You answer, like he really has stumbled into your church at the midnight hour.

“Levi.”

He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose.

“The hell’re you doing up here?” he asks, keeping his voice monotone as he stands tall on the rooftop. 

Your eyes follow, still confused and nervous.

“I’m—” Are you sweating? “—I couldn’t sleep.”

Levi’s brow ticks. “Gunther snoring or something?”

You quickly shake your head, and immediately he can sense it: something is wrong.

Are you going to let him in? Is he going to get to hear about what the hell is going on in that cloudy head of yours?

(He could iron everything out so neatly, like a soft pressed shirt, if he lost his resolve.)

Cautious not to slip on the roof’s slant, Levi makes a slow descent to the reclined space you have yourself situated upon. You’re generous enough to move the lantern to the other side of you, allowing him space to sit beside you.

“Then what is it?” he asks carefully.

At first you don’t respond. The look in your eye is… new. Hazy. Like you’re caught between a dream and reality.

He squeezes his fists together at his sides so as not to reach out and shake your shoulder back to where he sits.

He shouldn’t.

He really shouldn’t.

“You can—”

Too late. Two words spill out, and you whip your attention so fast to him that his throat constricts like he’s got a severe case of allergies on the horizon.

Be brave, Ackerman, you dumbass.

“You can… talk to me, if you need an ear,” he grits out, wishing he had the tact like Erwin or the generosity like Hange right now. They’d softly lead you into the conversation, create a cushioned security blanket to fall back on.

All Levi’s ever had is his arms and the clothes on his back.

Your loop your wrist between a finger and a thumb, lost in the consideration of his offer, and when he open his mouth to dispel it — forget I asked, you don’t have to say shit to me — you let out a sharp breath and croak:

“I think I dreamed about what happened.”

His blood runs colder than the night sky.

“What do you mean?” Levi asks, unwilling to assume for himself.

You drop your arms to your butterfly-laid knees and sigh heavily, distantly. “I really have enjoyed sparring with you, you know.”

Oh.

So you’re going to switch the subject.

It’s that memory, and Levi fights — struggles — not to press harder.

“Have a thing for getting your ass kicked or something?” he brushes off, and you smile with your chin to your chest.

His jaw goes slack just watching it from his peripheral.

“We used to spar all the time in the Underground,” you reply. “I think… I think it just feels like home to me, y’know?”

You look too fast, catching the slack-jawed expression on his face, and scramble for a better explanation.

“Because we grew up there! That’s home.”

“The Underground City wasn’t home for us,” Levi tells you instead, shaking his head.

(That’s home — fuck, why do you have to say shit like that?)

“No?” you ask, and he shakes his head despite himself. “Sparring feels like it, though.”

Levi stretches his legs out on the roof, mindful not to touch the dirty surface with the palms of his hands. “Kicking the shit out of you every day just so you can remember yourself is one hell of a fucked-up plan, you know that, right?”

You snort, nodding. “Yeah, I’m aware it’s a little unorthodox.”

“A little?”

“A lot,” you correct, grinning. He has to press his tongue to the roof of his mouth not to smile back. “And it makes sense, since we used to work together before the Scouts.”

You say it with such conviction that he doesn’t even notice you’re setting up a trap.

“You remember that now, huh?” Levi asks.

You rest your chin on your shoulder, eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“Nope, but you confirmed it for me.”

Levi scowls at the dirty trick, rolling his eyes. “Little shit…”

“Well? Too late now, it’s in the open,” you urge, eyes rounding. “Right?”

He could kill you himself.

Metaphorically. Metaphysically. Spiritually.

So long as you’re physically still here, flesh and blood and beating heart.

“...if I give you this, then you’re never gonna quit asking.” But he’s feeling generous, especially now that you actually look sorry. You open your mouth, and he decides to beat you to the punch. “We were in a gang. Nothing glamorous.”

“With Isa?”

Levi can feel his face smoothing in surprise faster than he can look away.

The disbelief crawls and etches onto his expression, his body shivering from something colder than the night.

Isa.

A wave of sadness crashes at his shore and dissipates just as fast.

“Do you remember her?” Levi asks, softer than intended. "Isabel?"

He hopes you remember her. He hopes you remember all of them.

Even if he’s the last one that makes it to the roster, Levi wants you to have the good times in your back pocket so you remember why you’re fighting for humanity.

“The tomato thing,” you clarify with a softness that rivals his own. “The memory I had. You said I started sounding like Isa, wanting to go up to the surface. That we’d be happy up here. And it… yeah, I mean I can’t see Isabel's face, but I know there was a girl. And a guy, right?”

Is this really happening to him right now?

“Yeah,” he coughs to mask the strain in his vocal chords. “There was a guy.”

“Furlong.”

Levi couldn’t stop it even if he tried: the corner of his lip ticks upward. “Furlan.”

“Furlan…” You trail off, nodding to yourself. “That’s what his name was. Fuck, I kept saying Furlong, Furlong… but Furlan. Yeah. Isabel and Furlan. We all worked together?”

Speechless, all he can do is nod.

You don’t seem to notice the gravity of him, lost in your own orbit as you begin to ramble.

“We didn’t spar with them. That’s why all of my memories come from only us fighting. Not because they didn’t exist, but because they couldn’t keep up with us.”

You snort, shaking your head. Levi’s tongue is full of lead.

“There wouldn’t be a fair fight in sight. I mean, I think Furlan tried his best, but Isabel didn’t even try. She was too young, or at least I get the feeling she was younger than the rest of us. Sparring was only between us. We made it our thing.”

“Our secret language.”

Levi doesn’t know what the fuck possesses him to say that, but it’s out and open in the night air before he can stop himself from falling clear off the fucking roof.

He’s numb, his fingers frostbitten despite there being no breeze.

He isn’t brave enough to see your reaction.

His chin lifts to the moon.

“I fell, didn’t I?”

Your voice rips him clear from his stubbornness, forcing him to blink back at you. Your eyes are glossy, and his chest feels tight after forcing himself not to feel a damn thing at all.

“What?”

“The day I lost my memory. The day you… when I had my accident, or whatever.”

From such fond memories to the worst moment of his life, Levi has nothing to keep him afloat in this whiplash.

He can’t look away. He can’t even blink.

He’s fifteen all over again looking back at you, speechless and blank.

“My dream was bleak, to say the least,” you continue. He’s grateful for your voice overriding his racing thoughts. “But I don’t really know if it was a dream or reality. It all felt like a dream… but I can’t trust my dreams anymore, because half of the time they’re just memories.”

When Levi says nothing, you continue with a softer voice.

“I was flying through the trees. There were… screams, just… everywhere.” His teeth clench together, but he refuses to look away. Levi deserves this — to watch you tell boomerang his very own nightmares back to him. “I was trying to save this one person from getting eaten by a titan. Ten meters? Maybe thirteen? I couldn't tell. We were getting slaughtered out there by two abnormals that just wouldn’t quit.”

Levi doesn’t have the heart to say it.

If he could ease your pain, then he could lie.

He could say it’s just a dream.

(He was always so bad at lying to you.)

“There was one Scout half-eaten, hanging off a tree like he was… like he was just a leaf in the wind. I remember his cloak billowing. And — and I tried to recon with my ODM gear to go back for them. I tried saving them. I know the orders were to keep moving, and I…”

You look so haunted. Grief stricken.

This was the exact thing he was dreading, bringing you out here.

It’s too close to where it all went to shit.

Levi has to squeeze his fist from reaching for your shoulder.

“Go ahead, James,” he quietly reassures. “I’m listening.”

“I disobeyed your direct order, didn’t I?”

The way your eyes snap to his has him feeling cornered — it’s a rhetorical question that you want answered, verbally, here and now.

He can’t.

Levi merely nods once, and the devastation etched across your brow makes his stomach ache.

“You knew we couldn’t go back for you if you tried to save them,” Levi tells you, flat yet unsteady. “You knew.”

“And I did it anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“By myself.”

“Yeah.”

“And you came back for me anyway.”

(How vivid was this dream of yours?)

Levi sucks on his tongue, debating. Your eyes narrow in suspicion.

“Because you did come back for me, Levi.”

“James, how much do you remember about this?” he finally blurts, cutting straight through the hedge maze you’re formulating through storytelling to get to the point.

He has to know.

He has to hear it.

His bark makes you blink, recoiling with uncertainty, and he hates that — hates knowing he can’t let this play out when the guilt festers like a parasite in his stomach.

“A titan grabbed me,” you cautiously recall, the blood draining from your face. “I tried saving someone and a titan grabbed me out of mid-air. I fought it. I cut myself free, but it jammed my ODM gear.”

Levi frowns, ignoring the trembling in his right fist. “And how do you know I came back for you?”

At first you don’t reply. Your eyes round, as if surprised by the challenge.

The raven-haired man’s eyes narrow into slits, and he waits with a meanness that comforts him like a protective shield.

“How do you know?”

“Levi—”

“Because your not telling me—”

“I fell!”

That is not what Levi was waiting to hear.

“My fucking... ODM gear got jammed because I stupidly got caught by a titan, and I fought with it, then panicked and sliced my own… my own line. I fell.”

Your eyes get glossy again, voice nothing short of a whimper, and you look back to the moon with a trembling lower lip.

Levi hates that he has to push you, that he has to do this, but he’s a glutton for punishment.

Maybe you’ll understand.

Maybe this is the time where the illusions dissolve and you see him for what he is.

“Broken ribs.” 

You turn your attention back to him, a tear accidentally falling from your momentum.

“Bruised spine. Internal bleeding. Lacerations on the torso, neck, and right leg.” 

Again and again, Levi tortures himself with his own account of what you’re retelling. 

“The cherry on top being the major concussion. Those were the injuries you sustained for saving five out of eight Scouts that day.”

Your eyes watch in horror as he adds the little detail you would have never, and could have never, recalled—

Because you hadn’t been awake to hear for yourself.

“Miro Squad should have been a lost cause that day. You didn’t let that happen.”

His breath grows short. Yours doesn’t seem to exist at all.

His eyes drop to your chest, pleading for your lungs to work.

“Almost all of those injuries you sustained were before the—”

Shit.

Levi can’t do this.

He glances away, pressing his palms into the dirtied surface to focus on something other than the bile climbing up his esophagus.

“James, why did you say I came back for you?”

He has to hear it.

From your lips, because he won’t believe it elsewhere.

“...because I saw you diving after me.”

Your voice is soft, appreciative.

Like he’s a fucking savior.

Levi clenches his teeth, speaking through a modicum of restraint:

“James, I’m the reason you don’t remember anything.”

Finally.

Forehead to the fucking stairs of your altar, he confesses.

A sinner in front of a deity, laid bare.

Telling you feels as horrible as he always imagined. Levi doesn’t wait to catch how you look at him, because he doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t need to see that wide-eyed stare, that panic, the fear, over the edges of your face again.

He couldn’t stand it then, and he surely doesn't have the courage to stand it now.

“That’s…” His eyes close as he awaits the impending explosion, but you don’t sound angry. You sound… in denial. “That’s impossible, Levi, you dove after me—”

“It’s not impossible,” he reassures, wallowing in the hatred he feels in every vein of his body, "because it's true. It’s my fault that you’re like this. That you barely remember shit.”

“No, it—”

“James, I was there. I know what happened, I saw it happen, so fucking listen to me, alright?”

It’s harsh, cruel, and for some stupid reason he expects you to simply take his words at face value.

He starts to push himself up from the rooftop’s surface, but something heavy catches on his sleeve.

Despite his better judgment, Levi glances down.

You stare up at him, arm outstretched, tethering him to you. Your fingers crawl up his arm, encasing his forearm. He sees it: how you suck in your breath, sharp and surprised, as if the touch brings a fire to the pit of your stomach. And if he didn't know any better, then he'd think that's your thumb running along the bone.

Reassurance.

Want.

Starvation.

He could really drive it home, shove you away, then maybe you’ll reconsider the Scouts.

He can say that he wishes he hadn’t come back for you, but he doesn’t have the guts.

You’re offering forgiveness he doesn’t deserve.

“Don’t,” he warns.

Your fingers shift and he knows exactly what you’re doing. You’re trying to pull him back down.

Levi rips his arm away like your touch burns.

“Don’t what, Levi?” you ask, and it’s sickeningly sweet.

He wants to drop to his knees.

He wants to bow his head.

He wants to beg, over and over, until he’s cleansed in the midnight sun where you both belong.

For a second he falters, leaning like he’s going to hover over you.

Your eyes are so large, so hopeful, that he almost feels hopeful, too.

“Forgive me,” he croaks, finding his sanity in the nick of time. “Don’t ever forgive me.”

He hears your pleas to come back, his name so sweet on your tongue — Levi, wait! Levi, come back. Levi, please! — but Levi walks straight to the edge of the roof, climbs back down, and beelines straight to his quarters before he can break out into a cold sweat.

By the time he’s shut the door behind him, he’s ripping off his clothes.

His shirt, thrown messily to the ground.

His pants, unbuckled and dropped somewhere close behind.

He'll care in ten minutes. He doesn't care right now.

His skin is on fire. He falls to the bed, and the freezing sheets sting him.

This is hell.

Throwing his forearm over his eyes, the forearm you grabbed, Levi reaches shamefully for the bulge in his black briefs and squeezes, sputtering at euphoric relief.

His teeth grit when he drags his cock out, pumping furiously. Desperate. Needy.

He has to bite his tongue not to whimper when his brain poisons him with the way you say his name.

Levi. His fist squeezes the tip. Levi, please. He tenses, bowstring tight, and knows he’s already close.

Don’t what, Levi?

He gasps, the back of his head slamming into his pillow when the orgasm hits him like a ton of bricks.

He spills over his hand, legs trembling, before slumping with regret.

Forgive me.

.

Author's Note: ...told u this fic was gonna be 18+ for a reason, oop

TAG LIST:

@lazylizzy3 @notgoodforlife @sad-darksoul

[worldseer]

Indulgence of Sweetness (Kar'niss x AFAB!Tav)

Warnings/Content: AFAB! Tav, Spoilers for BG3, NSFW, monster fucking, oral (female receiving), breeding kink, detailed description of genitalia, detailed kissing, Kar'niss is a giant spider person, OOC(?)

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist: Coming soon! Author's Note: Caved and decided to put this on here to show that I can in fact make good content. I wrote this for fun mostly on a Discord server. And I spent too much time thinking what it would look like, if you catch my drift. I also tweaked a few things about it so it's easier to read and more cohesive. Enjoy the filth! Tags: @oharahive (comment to be added to taglist)

~

The darkness of this place was suffocating, dreary, and unkind. From what you heard, just beyond the darkness lied monsters eager to kill, maim and eat. Kar'niss, the strange and broken man he was, was able to be convinced to come with your party with the protection of his lantern. He unnerved you at first, the exoskeleton and long thin legs that carried his drider body. It was uncomfortable to look at them for too long. His speech and personality was also concerning, since he spoke in a broken sort of form and rarely referred to himself. It revealed his mental state, how he was. . . not all there. But he was still definitely there. He was. . . strange. But you had to admit, a part of you was curious about him. You had heard of driders, what they did and how they came to be. A part of you wanted to know more, but you kept your prodding questions to yourself. There's no easy way to suddenly ask all about a creature's culture and anatomy after all. . . especially when they seemed like touchy subjects.

Time still passed in this dark place, and shadows grew darker as a form of night swallowed the lands. With his lantern to protect, Kar'niss thought it best to settle for a makeshift camp. The others didn't seem too enthused, but there was a difference between sleeping on rough dirt and being torn apart by terrible creatures. Besides, who was going to argue with the drider who had lived most of his life in this place and remained unscathed?

Stress left you frustrated, naturally. With how this whole quest was going, it was no wonder that you needed some form of relief. Seeking sleep was of no use, your mind was far too active. Tiring yourself out wasn't useful either, considering that most of your muscles throbbed with pain and soreness. No, nothing was working. You needed something to help calm your mind. . . and your gaze moved down to the sleep trousers you wore. "Fuck. . . maybe just one will help," you mutter to yourself, pulling your pants off and shivering as you were exposed to the chill in the air. You were already getting wet, as if your body agreed that this was the best form of stress relief you could perform at this time. Or maybe your body was trying to give you a sign that you needed to find someone to take care of your needs. Your fingers circled your clit slowly, your breath catching. Gods. . . it had been a while since you last got off. And you were too cowardly to ask anyone in your party for a "favor". . . especially now. They'd all likely complain that in the middle of a dark land was definitely not the time and place to get it on. Your hand would do for now. It worked before. . .

A shuffling outside of your small tent snapped you away from the daze of pleasure, and a familiar hissing voice moved in the air. "A sweet scent. . . a sweet, succulent scent in the air. . . is it a gift, your Majesty? A gift for us?" Kar'niss quietly whispers. A clawed hand touched the tarp of your tent, and you scrambled to pull the blankets of your bedroll over yourself. The same clawed hand moved the tarp, and the hungry expression of Kar'niss came into view. However, his expression dropped as soon as his many eyes trained on you. "Oh. . . True Soul. . . Apologies, to you and her Majesty- I smelled a sweetness. . . Have you smelled it?" he says, his voice quiet and tentative now. You blinked a few times, "Uhm. . . Not that I know of." If he was referring to what you thought he was, then this turned into a much more awkward situation that you first thought.

Kar'niss turned his head, his long spider legs moving him forward as he sniffed the air. A shaky sigh left him as he closed his eyes, his form trembling. "The scent. . . it lingers most here. . . fills the air. . . so so sweet, just like her Majesty. . . oh so sweet. . ." he whispers, almost looking to be drooling now. His pedipalps twitched with what looked to be excitement. Kar'niss seems to disregard the invasion of privacy, seeking with his nose the source of the "sweet scent" he speaks of. His legs lower himself, moving closer to the ground. . . and closer to you. He inhales deeply, his face close to the blanket that was covering your indecency. His eyes finally open, and they move to be trained on your face. "It comes from you. . . True Soul. . . The scent. . . oh please, show me what smells so delicious, so sweet and pure~. . ." he purrs, almost begging with a pleading expression. It's. . . oddly cute, and alluring. You figure it's time to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. Perhaps this was best to never tell anyone. . . take it to the grave, so to speak.

With a shy tone, you say, "I was. . . tending to some self relief and. . ." You move the blanket, exposing your still wet pussy. Kar'niss looks absolutely stunned, eyes now zeroed in on the slick folds and your clit peeking out. A growling sort of exhale leaves him. ". . . True Soul . . . you. . . smell. . . so. . ." he says, lips twitching and hands reaching out for you. However he stops himself. "What am I. . . what is. . . what is happening to me? I feel. . . hungry. . . but. . . not for food or blood. . ." he asks himself. Rarely he had ever referred to himself til now. It was as if his mind was clearing, or perhaps some long lost instinct brought back some sanity. How funny, that exposure to a wet cunt could bring back sanity to a man. "Forgive me- I shouldn't be here. . . you seek rest, True Soul. . ." But before he leaves, you find yourself grasping his arm, an arm that is defended and tough with a grey exoskeleton. He pauses, looking at you with surprise. ". . . You can stay, Kar'niss. . ." you whisper, and you see Kar'niss' eyes move over you. He swallows, and finally rests his spider body on the ground of the small tent. He takes up half of the space, but you don't seem to mind his proximity. Kar'niss looks at you with cautious eyes, silently asking permission and confirmation. It was almost cute, and you just nodded to reassure him again.

Maybe it was lust, a need for touch and attention. Or maybe you were curious of the drow drider. What ever the reason, you wanted him here and wanted see what he would do. Kar'niss let out a sigh as his eyes move to look at your pussy again. "It has been. . . long since. . . I've seen. . . such a quim like yours. . ." he admits, his hands reaching for you again. Warm, tough exoskeleton presses against your calves as Kar'niss gently grasps you, as though he was hesitant to touch, like he could corrupt and taint you. He continues, "So long since I . . . felt the wetness. . . the warmth. . ." He leans closer, clawed hands almost pulling you towards him and his eyes moving to look at your face. The many eyes of Kar'niss are dark, but you can see his irises are a rich brown in color. He stares for a moment, then his gaze moves down to your lips. His lips part, scarred and dry, "So long since I have. . . tasted another. . . Can I. . . May I taste you, True Soul?" His breath is warm against your skin, a stark contrast to the chill outside. His eyes move to yours again, and he looks as though he may beg and plead just to kiss you.

Curiosity mixed with need and loneliness was a cocktail of emotions that you never expected to feel, especially now with Kar'niss. But hey, you live life once, right? You wordlessly nod, and a shuddering breath leaves Kar'niss. "Forgive me-" he whispers, then presses his lips against yours. It's. . . surprisingly nice. His lips were a bit dry, but he was careful. Tentative, even. As though he didn't want to overwhelm you with his neediness. His hands moved to your shoulders now, pedipalps grazing the skin of your legs. After a moment, he pulled away but not far. His nose bumped against yours as he whispered again, "More. . . please let me have more. . ." A slick, blackened tongue moves from the inside of his mouth, wetting his lips. In a moment of boldness, you flick your tongue against his. Kar'niss growls lowly, but you know it's not to threaten. It's want. He takes it as an invitation (which it was), and pushed his tongue past your lips. He tastes bittersweet, like the darkest sort of chocolate or cranberries. A lingering taste of iron could be tasted as well. What surprised you most was that his tongue was dexterous. . . and long. It swirls around your own, making your mouth feel full as he seems to try all he can to navigate your mouth and taste every flavor it had to offer. The mingling taste of your spit and his was dizzying. He barely let your tongue move into his mouth, likely to make sure he didn't accidentally bite or cut you with his sharp teeth. When he finally moves away, a "Hah~. . . " sort of sound left him as he exhaled. His tongue was still slick with saliva, and hung low slightly past his chin. Something that could only be described as lust filled his many eyes. His tongue moved again, licking a stripe up your throat. "More. . . I want more. . ." he purrs, and trails down your body. Wet saliva created a sheen on your body as he tongue moved over your warm skin.

You didn't stop him, especially when he hoisted your thighs over his shoulders, and pressed his face into your folds. He inhales deeply and groans loudly. He stays there a moment, inhaling your scent over and over as if he can't get enough of it. "Oh yes. . . So perfect and sweet. . . I need this pussy-" he growls, and you nearly scream from the feeling of his warm, wet tongue pushing right into you. He laps and devours, claws careful not to break the skin as he holds you still. His tongue explores and fills your greedy and wanting warmth, soft and whining moans leaving Kar'niss as he tastes you. It's as if you're the best thing he's ever tasted. . . His tongue eventually pulls back so he can lick through your folds. Kar'niss pauses, clawed thumb pulling the hood of your puffy clit back and grinning. "Ah. . . So pretty. . . wonder what this will make you do if I just. . ." he whispers, and begins to suckle on your clit. His eyes close and he moans with you, cycling between licking and sucking on the tender bud. The sounds of slurping and moaning are so lewd and loud that you're surprised that no one has woken up or heard it. But then, he suddenly pulls away when you're about to cum and looks ashamed. You would've complained, had you not noticed his expression first. ". . . Why. . . why do I feel so. . ." he whispers, and then grunts. Kar'niss covers his face with his hands as he pulls back, and you notice a slickness between two plates slightly above where his pedipalps were. A hidden slit, as it were, where a heavy slick bubbled and leaked. Was that. . . precum? Kar'niss suddenly looks embarrassed. "Don't look at me! Don't look at my shame! I didn't mean to-" You move forward, pulling Kar'niss' hands away from his face. "Whoa- hey! It's alright. . . what's going on?" you ask. Kar'niss looks away, one of his hands moving to attempt to hide his face once again, "I'm. . . aroused. . . I want to. . . I want to breed. I need to. . ." "Breed?" "Yes. . . breed. . . My kind gets very. . . excited when we are uhm. . . Sorry, True Soul . . . I do not mean to overwhelm you, especially with. . . carnal desires." "Oh . . Are you holding yourself back?" "Quite literally. . . I. . . know my anatomy. . . intimidates those who are. . . not my kind. . ." " . . . Show me." Kar'niss looks startled, "W-what?" "Show me how aroused you are. . ." With a shaky inhale, there's a squelching noise and you look down. From the hidden slit, what you can only assume is his cock moves out at a sluggish pace and stands proud. It's almost sticky looking, with precum beading and running down the shaft. The head is pointed, and the shaft curves with slight differences in thickness. It's long, just like his tongue. . . and grey in color. It's pretty, in an odd way. For a moment, you wonder how it tastes . . . and if it would all fit. It twitches in the cold air, seeking attention from you. Kar'niss looks away, his hands covering his face in shame. Before he says anything bad about himself again, you grasp his cock. A choked gasp leaves him as you experimentally pump him. Precum dribbles continuously from the tip, coating your hand in mere seconds. It's stickier than whatever is keeping his cock lubricated, like warm caramel. You lift your fingers to your mouth and taste it, and Kar'niss looks like he may implode from the sight in front of him. Sweet. Like pure melted sugar. You look at Kar'niss, deciding it would be too cruel if you didn't allow him to indulge his desires and leave him hard. He doesn't seem like the type to just- go and deal with this himself. . .

"Do you want me?" you ask, and Kar'niss nods silently with a great eagerness. You move closer to Kar'niss, and his arms wrap around you. He's warm to the touch, warmer than you expected. His pedipalps guide your legs to wrap around his "hips" as he "sits" on the ground, his cock touching the inside of your thigh. Another shaking breath leaves Kar'niss, "Let me breed you, True Soul. . . please. . . I can't hold myself back. . . I promise to be gentle, to be good, just please. . ." Oh he was too cute. . . You move so the tip presses against your opening, and Kar'niss lets out a strained noise. It's a slow stretch, but due to the lubrication on his cock, it feels nothing but natural and painless. Smooth, the entire way down. You take him, and his cockhead hits perfectly against your cervix. He moans, "Oh Gods- oh my-" He gasps before speaking again, "MMMMmmmm. . . I need to-" Kar'niss holds you like a vice, and his pedipalps act like another set of arms, guiding your hips as he thrusts at a slow pace. It's like he's afraid to pull out and be too far away from being buried in your warmth, almost grinding instead of actually thrusting back and forth. He huffs and puffs, his face pressed against your neck. "So. . . warm. . . so. . . tight. . . Hah~! Mmm . . . Forgive me, True Soul, forgive my selfishness. . . I don't deserve such a perfect pussy to breed-" he whispers against your skin, his pedipalps guiding your hips faster. Your orgasm washes over you with surprising timing, but he doesn't stop. Instead, he growls lowly as you clamp down on him. "More- more- gotta prepare-" he mumbles, his sharp teeth brushing over your neck. His grip tightens as he thrusts faster, gritting his teeth now. You're surprised he's going so fast and not yet cum, especially since he seemed to have been going through a very long dry spell.. He whines, growls, gasps, every kind of erotic noise tumbling out his throat. It's primal, instinctual, and natural for him.

His sounds mix with yours, and he shakes as he continues to fuck you hard. A second orgasm comes and goes quickly, and you're overstimulated as he brings you a third. It's only then as you clamp and gush on him for a third time that his hips finally stutter. "Have to. . . make sure. . . your quim. . . takes me well. . . must. . . satisfy. . . my love. . ." he groans, then thrusts harder. You're too far gone to understand what exactly he means by that. All you want is him, nothing else mattered. His sharp teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, keeping a grip on you. After a moment he pulls away and licks over the mark he made, looking proud of himself. "Yes. . . mate. . . finally. . . mate. . ." he coos, the words quiet as he nears his climax. It's overwhelming, but all the more rewarding when he finally cums. It triggers your fourth orgasm once he cums, and it only seems to intensify his own orgasm. His mouth opens in a silent scream at first, then an almost broken, crying sound leaves him as his cock throbs inside of you. It throbs several times, each time filling you with a rush of hot cum that definitely needed to be spent. A satisfying and comfortable warmth fills you, so much so that you fear it will leak out. It feels thick inside you, slightly heavy; it's oddly satisfying to feel inside you. One of Kar'niss' hands moves behind him as he gently pulls you off of his cock and down on your bedroll once more. A sticky, white and gooey substance covers Kar'niss' hand once it's back in view, and he spreads it over your spent pussy. "Don't worry . . . it's only my webbing," he mutteres, taking note of your confused face. You twitch as Kar'niss pushes the strong webbing slightly into your core, plugging his cum inside of you. He lathers the rest over the opening of your pussy and looks satisfied. "There. . . Now it's sure to take. . ." Take . . . wait a minute! Take?! You didn't even think about that. . . was it possible? You couldn't ask now! You'd have to ask Gale later- Your thoughts were interrupted as Kar'niss tenderly kissed your forehead. "Thank you, my love . . . Rest easy, you're tired. . . I will protect you from harm, as your mate. . ." he whispers, and quietly leaves your tent. You momentarily wonder if now Kar'niss would keep you here forever. You knew what "mate" implied. . . Hopefully you didn't end up breaking his heart by the end of all this. . .

~ Bonus: "So first you lick a spider, and now you fucked one? . . . I'm starting to think you have some spider kink." "I was horny and stressed, Gale! And he was very endearing!" "You slept with a drider. A horny. . . drider. That is something that happened. . . Look, I know we're friends, but know that I am extremely worried about your decision making." ". . . Also I think he made me his mate-" "I- What- TAV!"

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

Colonel's orders!

Summary: Quaritch contends with his crush on Lyle's partner. Meanwhile they struggle with their work load.

Gn!reader x Quaritch, Gn!reader x lyle

No warnings yet, though there will likely be some in future chapters.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Exhausted was an understatement. You were beyond that now. As far as you were concerned it had been 72 hours since you'd last slept. The brief nap the day prior barley counted, you slept for less then an hour. You'd been overworked before but this was a whole new level of stress. Without the constant stream of broken equipment you'd have passed out where you stood.

Currently you found yourself staring blankly at a broken data pad. Hardware was more your specialty but you were available so it fell to you. The irritated scientist hovered close by. Talking angrily about the importance of their work. Like it was somehow your fault they'd broken the damn thing.

To your relief Lyle popped his head in. His imposing wall of muscle cast a shadow over the scientist. They swallowed thickly before scuttling off, mumbling about getting the pad back soon.

"Aw buttercup, you're working too hard. Take a break with me." He smiled down at you. You tried to return the smile but your mouth just twitched. You groaned, suppressing a yawn as you gazed up at him. He shone in the artificial lighting, a fluorescent halo.

You'd been jittery, dropping tools and getting confused all afternoon. You'd been glad to do a more screen based task at first but now the numbers shifted and danced on the screen. Your body refusing to sit still kept flinching and kicking.

"Promise, I'm almost done. I'll come find you when I'm free." You managed to smile properly this time. Lyle looked skeptical but agreed. Leaving you with a kiss on the cheek before he strode out, causing the scientist to flinch out of his path.

More hours passed and you found yourself needed on several more jobs. Currently you were under the link unit, pulling out wires and circuit boards. Something was catastrophically wrong and you'd need to remove and reinstall the lot to even begin to solve the problem.

Dr Augestine had requested, well more demanded that you be the one to fix it. She didn't have much faith in anyone else and you'd proven reliable so it had to be you. The scientists had cleared out since you'd arrived. You think your irritable attitude had sent them scurrying off.

Though you found yourself floating outside your body now. Unable to feel the exhaustion or anger of before. You watched your hands fumble to complete the task on autopilot. You remained that way until you heard someone calling your name. You moved to pop up but misjudged the distance. Your head whacking the machine with a loud thud.

"Y/n?" Miles rounded the side, looking down at you with a frown.

"Sir?" You weakly saluted, struggling to focus on him. He tripled in your vision, wobbling and blurring. It honestly made you rather queasy.

"Lyle says you've not called up. Or back to the dorms for that matter." He looked at you, expecting some kind of answer you supposed. You didn't catch a question however so you just continued to stare blankly at him.

He sighed heavily before squatting down to your level. You'd forgotten how handsome he was up close. Sun kissed skin, icy blue eyes and all muscle. His hard features set in a worried line as he stared back at you. Your eyes could hardly keep focus on him, any of the hims for that matter.

"When was the last time you slept?" He looked deep into your eyes. You could only imagine how puffy and ringed they'd look now. They certainly felt heavy, it took so much effort to just keep open.

"Yesterday." You responded after a long hesitation. It was technically true, you'd had that 'nap'.

He scoffed at that, shaking his head lightly.

"Liar." You gaped, opening your mouth to object. He held his hand up to you, silencing your outrage. You snapped your mouth closed as he looked back to you. A playful expression crossed his face.

"Alright then, you'll do fine at my little game then." He smirked. Your furrowed your brows in confusion. A game?

"I want you to close your eyes, for a whole minute." He grinned.

"That's stupid." You responded, frowning back to him.

"Then should be easy. Close your eyes, that's an order." The humour left his face then. He held the stern expression. You sighed, rolling your eyes but followed his instruction.

You sat there slumped against the machinery, eyes closed as he counted. He'd barely made it to 15 before Miles noticed you'd nodded off. He knew you would, though maybe you'd be stubborn enough to hold off longer.

You looked so peaceful now. Eyes still puffy and almost bruised looking. Your expression was serene though. Miles hadn't thought the next part through however. He'd gotten you sleeping but what was he to do with you now.

Augestine wouldn't be a problem. He outranked her on pretty much everything these days. Her attitude with Parker had seen to that. So it'd been easy to move you off her order and onto his and he'd ordered you off duty. From his system he could tell how long it'd been since you'd actually slept.

He couldn't leave you slumped on the lab floor, no matter how content you looked. You'd be rather sore once you'd awaken and if the scientists returned and woke you before you'd fully rested? Well he wasn't going to let them find put what he'd do.

Only option left seemed to be removing you himself. You barely stirred as he leaned forward. Gently maneuvering your legs over one arm and pulling you close to his chest. In one quick motion he stood, cradling you to him.

He paused a moment but your breathing remained steady. You were so deep in sleep now, even his steps didn't cause you to stir. He wouldn't deny it to himself, he was enjoying this. Your form pressed up against him, hand splayed on his chest. You were so warm and soft, he felt like he was short circuiting.

He wanted to avoid people, scared the noise would wake you. Although seeing people eyeing the two of you did amuse him. They were so blatant in their stares, although they scattered when he looked. You looked like his like this and the idea that they'd think that made him giddy. Though the reality of things soured his mood. You weren't his, you were Lyle's and he'd likely not enjoy the rumors that were bound to spread.

He passed by the windows, bright beams of light shone through as dusk approached. It was beautiful and soon the stars would be out. Miles thoughts were back to your 'date'. God he wished he'd just kissed you, claimed you then before Wainfleet had the chance.

The last weeks he'd seen the two of you together were torturous. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in. Playful kisses shared whenever you both had time. Hell he'd had the misfortune of coming into the mess hall when you were sat in Lyle's lap infront of your friends. He'd deliberately been changing Wainfleet's schedule since then. It was petty and it didn't work well anyway but he'd felt vindicated.

He hated overhearing the other marines talking about you. Zdog and Ja were especially egregious. Constantly teasing him about his pretty new partner. Making lewd remarks about your appearance or sexual jokes. Hell even ever stoic Mansk had got in on it.

It was only made worse when you actually met them. You'd come up to meet him and the whole squad had been there. You'd greeted Miles first, smiling so sweetly it made him ache. Then off you strutted to Lyle's side. He'd had the audacity to kiss you right there. Plastering you onto his body while he lent against the table. You'd flushed hearing his friends whistle, burying yourself in his bicep as you two left.

You wriggled in Miles arms, pulling him back to the moment. Grumbling you shifted, nuzzling your face deeper into his chest. The light rays made your skin glow. He relished the feeling, you pressing yourself in closer to him.

All too soon you were at your dorm room. He knocked but your roommate was out. Miles let himself in and carried you over the threshold to your messy bed. Crouching low to lay you down as gently as he could. You groaned again at the loss of heat, he could sympathize, not wanting to let you go yet himself. You tugged the arm still over you down and to your own chest. Your arms wrapped round his thick bicep. pinning him there.

Miles wanted to stay, to let you cuddle up to him. God just imaging you curled up on his chest was too much. It was wrong, you were spoken for and he was your boss, not to mention how much older he was. This wasn't just disrespectful to Lyle, it was disrespectful to you. If you had your senses you'd never have let him do this much. He had to leave before he made things any worse.

Untangling himself from your grip proved a struggle. Your eyes fluttering open a little as he finally managed to pull away.

"Miles?" Your spoke dreamily. Not quite awake as you looked dazed up at him.

"Shh, back to sleep." He whispered down to you, taking the last chance to tuck hair off your face.

"mmm... yes sir..." Your murmured, burying deeper into your pillows and tugging a pillow into a hug.

The heat rushed to Quaritch's face. He was jealous of a god damn bit of fabric. His heart quickened at your words though, he liked hearing you call him that.

[thatdehydratedmedic]

How I wish I had studied during my A levels

I want to start by saying this is NOT a guide. If anything, it is closest to being a vent or rant. Its basically what I would tell myself if I could go back in time. I wrote down that I’d also slap my past self. But my better judgement suggests I should be kinder to myself. I’d give her a hug. She did the best with what she had when she finally tried, and I applaud and thank her for that. She was so brave and so, so, kind. I truly appreciate her effort. If not for her strength I would not be here today. Here’s a kiss to her forehead. I celebrate the immense trust she had in God and her love for me. My love, past self, you were so strong, I love you. You feel more and more distant from me every day, and yet you burn bright, scarlet red. You truly were a teenager full of rage.

1. Past papers

Past papers are arguably the BEST resource for scoring good marks at A-Level. They provide a great insight into the question types as well as prepares you to answer questions in the way that examiners expect you to answer for them to give you a good grade. Doing past papers will help familiarize yourself with patterns and will make you less likely to suffer from exam anxiety later on. Regretfully, I barely did any past papers, especially at A2 level. For each subject I did, I can count on one hand the papers I have done. I wouldn’t even need one hand to be completely honest. I did do quite a few Dhivehi HSC papers. (SSC papers also help for Dhivehi HSC btw)

2. YouTube videos

YouTube videos is an amazing resource if you are looking to improve your understanding of a specific concept. This is especially helpful fur biology and math. Personally, I did not use YouTube at all for chemistry, however, I am inclined to believe many would find it helpful and really urge everyone to make good use of it. When I was cramming for my A2 exams and had only about 2 weeks left I realized the sheer amount of content I had missed as I had skipped so many classes. I do wish I had at least started watching YouTube videos to catch up on the syllabus a bit earlier.

3. Skimming through textbooks

I do not have much to say regarding textbooks except that when I thought it would be useful, it wasn’t – and when I thought it would not be useful, it was. I assume that’s just my misassumption. I most likely some of you will be more perceptive of when you should reach out for it. However, I did find that at times when I had missed many classes it certainly did help to go through the textbook after attempting a past paper to no avail. I mostly suggest just reading through the contents, learning outcomes and processes, as I found that reading the processes did indeed help grasp them better, such as the Kreb’s cycle and all the neuron and muscle processes. (I forgot them all, can you tell? Let this be a reminder to you to NOT procrastinate, get off TikTok and Genshin impact and start grinding)

4. Anki Cards

If you’re an aspiring medical student like me, I’m sure you would’ve heard of Anki cards already. If not, Anki is basically a flashcard app, like Quizlet but better. I would get into the details but everyone always says the same thing and I do not want to sound like a broken record. You should look it up and when you do, you’ll see what I mean. Regardless, I found Anki especially helpful for Biology and Islam. These 2 subjects are memorization heavy, and although people do say you should not use Anki to learn but should use it for recall, I digress. Use it however you want, and besides – I was way beyond saving at this point. When I was cramming for Islam just 3 days in advance, Anki was the way to go. Took 2 days to make the cards and memorized them all on the last day. Don’t do that though. Halfway through and I’ve forgotten what the title was. What I would’ve done differently. How silly. I would’ve made cards early and actually used the cards as I should have. But if you’re like me and procrastinate like a little bitch, don’t fret. You’ve still got this.

5. Paying attention in class and not being late

I’m not going to pretend I regret missing math class. Maybe a little because I ended up failing (getting a B) but not enough to make me cry. (Lies.) But anyways, for a class that was 45 minutes long, I showed up 30 minutes late. Math was always first for the entire year. And for a night owl like me, this meant that there was nothing you could do to make me get to school on time. I am a changed person. I promise I go to work on time no matter what now. But back then I only had 2 things in mind. Have fun and get rest. That was not a good mindset. I was spaced out the entire class. I do regret this. Everyday, every week, every month, for 2 years, I paid almost 0 attention in class. On the rare occasions which I did, I learnt so much, unless I was scrambling to understand because I hadn’t paid attention on earlier days. For the lessons which days I did the classwork and participated during lessons, I found that I had an easier time understanding them later on. Genuinely, if anyone reads this, I’m sure you’re laughing at this paragraph because who even states such an obvious thing right? Well, back at you, my friend. Sometimes we do need the obvious to be stated in bold and highlighted in yellow.

6. More religious – focus on what matters (SKIP THIS IF YOU’RE NOT MUSLIM!!)

As you can already tell, I was a very irresponsible little bitch during my A levels. Too With 0 discipline, I was not as religious as I wish I had been. Albeit I did pray Tahajjud almost daily, I was very lost in the worldly life. I was not focused on my Akhira at all. This led me to living very freely and without regret. However, the numerous distractions couldn’t put a will to live inside me. Although I had been outwardly very happy and outgoing, it was a depressing time. Only a few levels above rock bottom, but that’s a story for another day. I did reconnect with Allah close to A levels. Not because I wanted good grades but because I had gone too far away. In the end, my closeness with Allah helped me to regain my motivation to study, and was the driving force to start cramming, even in the little time I had. If I could go back in time, I would recite Quran for an hour every day, and do my dhikr in addition to Tahajjud.

7. Wearing less makeup

As you might have already guessed, I was a pretty shallow person during that time and made sure to have a full face of makeup every day. This is not to say that you become a shallow person if you wear a full face of makeup every day. It is only my personal experience that when I wear makeup, it’s usually for shallow reasons. I would spend hours every day getting ready even after waking up late. In essence, my priorities were all jumbled up. It’s not that I would wear less makeup, but I would not place such high importance for my looks, especially over my studies. Studies would come first, looking good will come after. Besides, who cares if I’m pretty if I fail my finals? As a young girl, I cared too much.

8. Quality over quantity in friendships and leave the romantic pursuits for later

As someone who had been bullied almost my whole life, I was thrilled to finally learn how to get along. I made many friends during A levels. This new found sense of belonging did not translate well in my academics. I was distracted. I prioritized my friends more than my studies. I became more confident in my romantic pursuits as well. In the end, I lost sight of what mattered the most and ruined my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to change my life. I failed my parents and my family. I failed myself.

9. Believe in myself

I used to loath myself terribly. I guess to an extent I still do. This is entirely my own fault I suppose, and it wouldn’t matter if it did not affect anyone else. Unfortunately, my lack of self esteem has disappointed my family and teachers. Everyone except me believes in me. This is not a blessing but a curse. Because this has only led to me disappointing them all. At the end of the day, I am despised for being lazy. I avoided attending classes, self-studying, doing any form of practice or revision for months because I was terrified of failure. Insecurity turned to self-sabotage. The humiliation I failed in the end was greater than what I would have if I had been honest with myself to begin with. I will admit, a lot of these issues came from the fact that my teachers and parents called me a gifted child. Without offering any guidance or support, this so-called ‘love’ suffocated me. I was afraid of not meeting their expectations. They couldn’t possibly know I was not the brightest child ever if I never tried. Their comments always seemed to swing between two opposites. Sometimes it was, “It’s okay. You’re doing so well and you’re barely trying.” And when they would decide to no longer look at me through their eyes of mercy they’d say, “You’re arrogant. You’ll never make it. You think you can do it but we know with that little effort you can’t.” How ignorant. I believed I would never make it, regardless of whatever effort I made. To this day I do not know what life would be like if I had worked hard with confidence. Do me a favor, dear, reader, and let me know. The alternative is turning out like me, btw.

10. Maintain a healthy lifestyle

I’ve never been to a psychiatrist, but I can confidently say I have mental issues. I assume its depression but what would I know, I’m no psychiatrist. I am always tired, dehydrated, sleep deprived and starving. Oftentimes I shiver and I am constantly cold. I shake with anxiety in the face of people. Nothing seems worth spending my time on. I never exercise, I am always in bed, rotting. That is until I go to work. Have I mentioned I work at a hospital? Although I work shift duties, this work has given me a sense of routine. I enjoy speaking to patients. Even on my worst days, I find that helping people gives me a sense of accomplishment and goal. I lose track of time. I am so engrossed I don’t even realize when the day passes by. That said, I believe a healthy life style would greatly benefit anyone. Get enough sleep, drink enough water, eat well, rest and move. My caffeine-addicted-back-broken-ass with no sense of day or night anymore won’t. But you definitely should. I won’t, obviously, but if you do it will only be for your own good.

As I've already mentioned, this is not a guide in any way, and is not meant to be used as such. This is merely myself reflections and what I wish I had done differently. These are my flaws I wish to change going forward. That said, it would make me happy if this ended up helping someone out, somehow.