#the question is who is going to be holding onto the bridge

[swan2swan]

Anyway, CampFam, are we ready for Season 2 Chaos Theory Yasammy?

[sexlapis]

[◉°] … toji & y/n being a couple for 10 minutes straight pt.3

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡˚ 𓂋 ❄﹒✦﹒✿ ˚

꩜ actor!toji x actress!reader

⤷ synopsis : just toji & reader being idiots in luv…

꩜ content : crazy fans, very mild physical violence (toji pushing ppl lol), toji being a little ooc again. this is really not as wack as the warnings are making it sound.

- a/n : loads of people seem to be enjoying this & i enjoy making them, so here you go! :D

. . . part 1, part 2, part 4

masterlists

౨ৎ first clip

(recorded by your fansite) - you & toji are at the airport and it is packed. there are fans swarming you, practically suffocating you & toji, along with paparazzi taking pictures of you, flashing lights in your face. your bodyguards are literally at war trying to guard you and you have to cling onto toji’s arm to even get past the sea of people.

all of a sudden one fan somehow gets way too close, and grabs a hold of your shirt, trying to drag you towards him. you jerk forward and without even hesitating, toji just grabs the face of the crazy fan and pushes him away like it’s nothing, causing a domino effect having other fans falling over as well.

toji puts an arm around you and guides you to check your tickets, ignoring all the chaos he caused behind him.

(this got a lot of mixed reactions, some people siding with toji saying he was just protecting you & others criticising him for his rash actions that could’ve caused people to get injured 💀)

౨ৎ second clip

you & toji were doing a video for WIRED, taking part in their popular series, “Web’s Most Searched Questions” about yourselves.

“okay third question..” you say, and peel off the paper. “are _____ and toji..dating?”

you & toji look at the camera and then at each other, faces hot and you’re both awkwardly smiling before looking at the camera again. you & toji speak. “yeah, i dunno.” “nooo idea.” “literally no clue whatsoever.” “why even ask that like-like we’d know the answer?”

you peel the next question and it’s even worse. “are _____ and toji having- A BABY?!” you shout and cover your face laughing, both in shock and amusement. “what?!”

toji just facepalms, hiding his pink cheeks and sighs tiredly. “christ…”

౨ৎ third clip

you’re at a press conference for the series you and toji are in, all the cast members are gathered on a long table with microphones but it’s a pretty informal gathering and the fans are being very interactive with the cast!

a crew members hands the microphone to a fan who has a question. “hi! hi, i’m sarah and uhm..i have a question for toji. and _____ too! do you think that your characters have a chance of..like..getting together? like romantically-?”

“yeah we’re getting together,” toji responds bluntly, reeling in the loud cheers from the crowd & he decides to add fuel to the fire. “and we’re gonna have a make-out scene too.”

the audiences goes crazy with applause and whistles, while you pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head in embarrassment as the cast look to see your reaction.

then the director of the show pitches in, holding her finger up. “just to clarify, we did not discuss this..”

there’s a chorus of laughs and sad ‘awws’ among the pool of fans which only makes you giggle. you didn’t even know what to say to toji’s brashness.

gojo chimes in with his loud mouth while everyone is still buzzing from toji’s unexpected words. “talking about kisses and stuff like. this guy’s just saying what he wants to hear!”

everyone starts creasing up again and you & toji lean your heads to look at each other on opposing ends of the table, and he just smirks at you while you just shake your head and try not to look so obvious..

౨ৎ fourth clip

vogue did a video with you getting ready for a fashion show you were invited to, by the designer herself.

the makeup artists had just finished your shimmery, fairy-like makeup and now the stylists were accessorising you with jewellery and fixing your hair.

“yeah i really like how the hair is done,” you say, referring to the baby pink ribbon tied cutely around your bun. “it’s really cute! and the dress is just so-”

the door to the dressing room opens and toji pokes his head in, the camera zooming in on him. “‘ya done yet?”

“toji?” you ask, exasperated. “toji get out! we’re not finished yet..”

toji looks you up and down in confusion. “ya look done to me. we gotta leave in like-”

“toji i am clearly not finished. we have to go through which jewellery looks the best with the neckline of the dress and..my whole look altogether so it doesn’t drown me out! and then we have to pick the correct shoes and make sure i’m comfortable with them and that they look pretty but also don’t take attention away from the dress. and then for the perfume-”

“yeah, yeah, alright, i get it.” toji totes. “but we have to be there in 30 minutes so-”

“oh toji’.” you sigh, looking in the mirror while the stylist fuss around you. “it’s okay if we’re late. i’m the main event. the designer invented me personally. they won’t even start the show if i’m not there. it’ll be fine, trust me.”

toji looks at you for a moment and then simply shrugs, nodding and accepting your words.

౨ৎ fifth clip

“so yeah, this is the book i’m reading.” you hold up ‘pride & prejudice’ to the camera for your fans to see. you were on a livestream, which you don’t usually do, and many fans were watching. “i just love this book. the characters are-”

loud, thudding footsteps can be heard in the background and you pause. a deep, clearly a man’s voice can be heard and then a shirtless toji walks into frame (as identified by his tattoos bc his face is not on camera). he reaches out of frame.

“sorry, jus’ forgot my shirt.”

he puts his shirt on, not even realising what he just did in front of 50,000 people and walks out of the room

it all happened so fast, you sit with your jaw open like a fish, holding your now forgotten book in your hand while the chat goes wild, spamming questions of “who is that?” “is that toji?” “you and toji are together?” in a frantic, chaotic fashion.

you just look at the camera and reach forward, abruptly ending the live. fans did not stop talking about this moment for months and they most certainly did not believe you when you said toji was just at your house for a little ‘visit’.

౨ৎ

tag list: @tiredslepz | @hayatslife | @shxyxyxxxx | @snowprincesa1 | @laylasbunbunny | @mimiemie

a/n: yk how hard it is to think of ideas for this omg 😭💔

[kaybug88]

Simon “Ghost”  Riley x Wife!Reader

December 15th: “Mom! Dad! I know what I want for Christmas. . . A sibling!”

Note: You and Simon have a six year old daughter named Bellatrix; nickname Trixy

TW: suggestive towards end WC: 692

Requested: Nope!

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

“No.”

Simon says as Bellatrix suggests that she wants a pony for Christmas. A pony, really?! Neither of you are made of money, let alone have the money to buy land for said pony, the pony itself, nor the necessities! 

You stifle a laugh as Trixy stomps her little foot as she angrily crosses messy writing off her Santa list.

“Maybe Santa will get it for you.”

You suggest, trying to lighten the mood of your angry daughter. She shakes her head as she scans through her list. Her deep chocolate brown eyes going up and down her paper before her eyes sparkle and widen. 

“Mom! Dad! I want a sibling for Christmas!”

Bellatrix exclaims excitedly, proudly showing you her list with the word ‘sibling’ in all caps with bolded letters. Jeez, she must really want a sibling.

Simon snorts before biting back a smile. 

“Bloody hell. . . You want a sibling?”

Simon asks, kneeling down to be eye level with your excited daughter. She eagerly nods, shoving the paper into her dad’s hands which he takes, clearing his throat; preparing to read off every item.

“Let's see. Pony; not happening. Bluey car; might happen. Oranges? Why in the world do you want oranges?”

He lists off with a laugh upon reading ‘oranges’. Bellatrix has always liked oranges, and gets one in every lunch she takes to school. 

“I like oranges.”

Is all she says with her six-year old sass before Simon continues down the list with you peeking over his shoulder.

“Sibling, now that, that I can make that happen, but you'll have to talk to mom ‘bout that one.”

You feel your face heat up upon seeing him look up at you with a wolfish grin and wink. You shake your head before putting in your own input.

“Trixy, that's not quite how that works.”

You chuckle as you get down to her eye level with Simon, who's clearly biting back laughter.

“Why not?”

Your daughter asks, clearly confused on why you can't just get her a sibling. Seriously, don't they just kinda’. . . Appear? That's how it works to a six year old mind at least.

“Well. . . Think of It like making cookies. You have to make the dough, form the cookie dough, bake them, and then you have to wait for them to cool off.”

Bellatrix seems to understand that you can't just get a child from the multiple emotions running over her face. Then once you and Simon stand back up, Trixy speaks up.

“So how do we make one?”

She asks excitedly, earning a laugh from your husband who's laughing so hard he's got tears lining his eyes. You can't help but chuckle to yourself and rub the bridge of your nose. Simon walks away, little chuckles pushing past his lips.

“How about you think really hard about what you want, and we can come back to this later. Alright?”

You suggest with a smile as you guide her back to the table to write what she wants for Christmas, leaving the Amazon catalog you get each year next to her. 

You walk away and to your bedroom, chucking to yourself at the face Beatrix made when you and Simon laughed at question.

“How do we make one. . .”

You giggle to yourself as you walk inside your room, Simon sitting on your bed, scrolling on his phone.

“I can answer that, and I'd be more than happy to show you.”

Simon says from his spot on the bed, which you quickly shut down.

“You sure you don't wanna’ make Trixy a big sister?”

He asks after tackling, leaving you a giggling mess as you try to get him off. Eventually, Simon flips the two of you over, him laying on his back with his large calloused hands surprisingly gentle as they hold you in place. You're straddling him now with your softer hands pressed onto his sculpted chest.

“Would you look at that? We're already halfway there. Would be a shame if we wasted such an opportunity, no?”

He chuckles deeply as he massages your sides.

“I guess it would.”

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

A/N: so, I'm taking a shot at shorter fics and not forcing myself to make fics longer 🥲

Anyway, would You guys want a part 2 to this? Because I'd be more than happy to write one!

[deathbxnny]

Whenever you're feeling up to it could I pls have headcanons (or scenario if you think it'd work better) for ekko where his s/o decided to go with ekko when he and heimerdinger met with jayce [maybe she refused to let him leave alone after what happened to him on the bridge when he fought jinx] and she ends up getting sucked in by the arcane with them into the alt universe. [And perhaps his s/o is gifted in chemistry like he is with inventing so maybe you can include that in how they find each other again]

If this I too long just pick and choose what pieces you like. Thanks!🙏

Ekko finding his Fem!s/o again in the alternative universe.

I actually love this idea, Anon! Thank you for your request, and please enjoy!<3

Content: Slight angst, Spoilers for season 2, established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns.

((Not proofread))

The moment Ekko regained consciousness, he immideatly started looking for you everywhere. According to Heimerdinger, you had to have been here too, considering you were holding onto the boy's hand when things went south... but knowing that you were there was different from actually seeing you there.

And he really tried his best to find you. Everyone, however, seemed unfamiliar with you, something that stressed him out more as time went on. What if you died in this universe, too? What if you never even came to existence? What if you ended up in a different world all alone after all? The possibilities and questions were endless, but he was never the type to give up, so he ventured further every day until that competition came up. He honestly didn't care about it, as his mind was only focused on you, but things changed when he saw a familiar name on the competitor list.

Was it really you? Or just a different person who was coincidentally named the same? He didn't know, but he had to find out now, unless he went mad due to your absence. Ekko was quick to put together something with Powder and Heimerdinger before finally arriving at the competition site. It was busy and crowded, people pushing each other to see the latest and newest inventions with sparkling eyes. And amidst it all was you, calmly swirling your vials of colorful chemicals in your hands, as you spoke with impressed onlookers.

You were always so intelligent and gifted in the art of chemistry and science. It was therefore no surprise to see you here. It all finally made sense, and there was little to stop Ekko from approaching your stand. His heart was beating against his ribcage, body trembling in fear that it wasn't really you and just a different version of yourself.

But when your eyes met and you gave him a sly grin accompanied with a knowing wink, he knew that he had found you at last.

[fluffylino]

Slow Down Bugboy

you're watching the news when you hear someone outside your window. is it a burgler? is it a ghost? oh wait, its spiderman?!

-contains soft themes (some injuries)

heavily inspired by that one scene from the amazing spiderman.

jisung is so spider coded🕸❤️‍🩹

enjoy~

keyboard clacking while you glued your eyes to the laptop screen. trying to make sense of the words and phrases you needed to write for an english assignment.

for some reason, you just couldn't focus.

maybe it was because jisung hadn't texted you since afternoon. glancing up at the clock to see it was an hour past 10pm.

your eyes now plastered onto the tv screen. the news flashing vividly. headlines popping up one after the other.

<Spider Man was seen fighting the giant reptilian>

<Who is this SpiderMan?>

the news anchor only raised more questions. dwelling into the details of this commotion.

you had mixed opinions on this so called 'man', who shoots webs out of his wrists. you'd rather call him

'weird insect man who crawls up buildings'.

was he a hero? i mean, he seemed like one. do you think you'd ever want to come face to face with him?

maybe? spiderman seemed chill.

anyways jisung!

right. where the hell was he?!

<ji, are you alive?>

.

<message me rn>

.

<are you okay? just mssg me if you're okay>

.

<JISUNG. HAN JISUNG>

.

looking away from your phone. you gulped down the lump in your throat.

was he accidently caught in the whole 'lizard incident' at the school...?

you didn't want to lose your friend. your bestfriend.

<i love you man, please tell me you're fine...>

"spiderman please...im really begging you to protect him if he's hurt" praying under your breath. heart pumping slower than usual while you took deep breaths.

the smell of your mom cooking a late night snack downstairs travelled up to your room. on any other occasion you wouldve eaten like a hog. but right now, you couldn't.

knock knock

soft thud

body taking a screenshot in fright. someone's outside your window. with how dark it is at this time of the night and only the moonlight, you think its a burgler.

That is until you see the silhoette of a masked man. the suit he wears is webbed, with colours of dark blue and red.

knock.

this time he presses his palm flat onto the glass, body slumping.

you throw your laptop on the bed, running to slam your door shut before making your way to the window.

"s-spiderman?" you mumble under your breath.

gasping as the man falls right into your arms. legs still dangling out. a catch a whiff of perfume that instantly makes your brain shortcircuit.

raising an arm to help him get the mask off. the mop of hair gives away his identity.

"sung..."

"han jisung! what the fuck happened to you?!" you exclaim, heart dropping when he rests his head on your shoulder. limply trying to hold onto you.

"i'm...uh s-shit" he mutters, grunting as you hold him up.

he plops onto the couch with a pained groan. you stand there dumbly. too much was happening. 

A heavy scent of blood filling the air. quickly shutting the window before kneeling down by his side.

"are you okay? what happened ji...please tell me"

cupping his face. his eyes widening briefly. shakily bringing his hand up to hold your wrist.

"lizard man VS bugboy...i hurt him more than he h-hurt me..."

even in this state, he finds the time to joke. laughing weakly until he notices the pain in your eyes. not just from seeing him bleed but also from the fact that you weren't aware that he was THE spiderman.

"i'm sorry for coming uninvited...t-there was no where else i'd feel safe"

jisung whispers, nuzzling his cheek apologetically into the warmth of your palm. you can't control your body or your thoughts.

carefully pushing his damp hair away from his eyes. theres a small cut over the bridge of his nose. his bottom lip is busted harshly. he's sweating as you caress him.

clean up his wounds. yes.

right now, what mattered most was stopping the bleeding.

"where are you going..." his voice trails off. puppy like eyes locked onto every little movement.

"sit up....as much as you can"

a soaked towel and disinfectant in your hands. jisung does sit up quietly. its surprising.

"baby it r-really hurts...mh" the boy whispers, staring at you with slight fear.

'baby' was a nickname he often used. but right now, it made your heart do a summersalt. without asking, he begins to take the suit off.

revealing his battered torso. bruises and cuts from the 'battle' he was in.

silence fills the room, apart from the soft hisses leaving his mouth.

hands weakly grabbing at your wrists to pry your hands away from the slash across his abdomen.  stomach muscles rhythmically tightening in discomfort everytime you applied a layer of medicine.

without much thought, you inch closer. feeling his heavy breath right next to your ear. along with a choked out grunt.

lifting your head up slowly, only to meet his gaze.

"i'm sorry for s-showing up like...this"

jisung whispers, scooching closer. your noses nearly touching. lips grazing against eachothers. you hum. far too out of it, to even get mad at him.

knowing he was spiderman put you at peace. knowing that he was safe was all that mattered.

injuries or not, you would take care of him regardless.

"say its okay" he whines softly, pressing his lips innocently onto yours. its too gentle to even be considered a kiss. you can't stop the grin that grows on your face.

realising how much your acceptance of him, mattered to him. sucking in a sharp breath when you peck him with more feeling. the subtle tangy taste of blood flooding your senses. his lip was still sensitive.

butterflies erupting in your stomach when he gently cradles the base of your neck. pulling you in for a deeper kiss.

"easy there bugboy..."

you tease, not letting him have his way. revelling in the toothy grin he lets out. laughing against you.

"i'm not going anywhere"

you reassure, threading your fingers through his hair. moving into his embrace.

"i want chocolate." he blurts out in a hushed tone.

"what-"

pecking you once more. and another time until he doesn't pull away. kissing you slow and passionately. pouring all his emotions out.

maybe spiderman wasn't so bad afterall...

.

.

.

.

.

teehee

[hiddenlife-manager]

Luffy smut under the table using his stretchy arms from the other side. Also can’t help but imagine him stretching his fingers or cock inside of u to see how much u can take

Luffy x Fem Reader

cw... fingering, squirting, needy luffy, slightly mean reader, under the table, innocent luffy, etc...

notepad... NUMBER TWO OF THE DAY! I think I might get another one today because I want to widdle down this list a bit. Who knows what I will pick. I have two fandoms I have to decide from.

“Luffy, I can’t cuddle; I have to get this done.” You muttered, and you leaned over the table with Luffy next to you. Hugging your shoulders, he wants to get your attention. You sighed, looking at your work. You promised Nami to budget the financing well, but there was a weird anomaly you had to fix. You were stressed.

“Unfair!” You heard him whine, and your hands went to the bridge of your nose, pinching it. You needed peace and quiet. You looked at him frustrated by all means. 

“I don’t care. Just sit in front of me and be quiet, please!” You begged, and he sighed, pouting at you and sticking his tongue to you. You rolled your eyes and went back to writing and doing a bit of math. He sat down in front of you, unaware he was about to do something that would make you lose focus. 

While you worked, he was staring at your pretty face. He hated how your attention wasn’t on him. He slowly began to stretch his hands under the table. He knew how flustered you get when he puts his fingers inside you; then you will get his attention, and that was the only way. He slowly raised your skirt up, not even allowing you to notice until you felt him move your underwear to the side. 

“Luffy! Oh-” You moaned, trying to cover it with your hands. You took your hands off your lips, trying to scold him, but your hands flung to the table, gripping it and moaning. You were bent over, moaning, holding onto the table. His fingers are going in and out of you. 

“I want your attention!” He pouted, and he knew he had it. Your hands let go of the table, and you look at him, trying to hold back the moans. You could not let him win; you had to get your work done.

“You don’t have it yet. Do what you want.” You rolled your eyes and grabbed your pencil with shaky hands. The feeling of his fingers pumping inside you felt so good. He stretched them to reach the right spot, and it annoyed and pleased you. As you tried to work, your thighs pushed against each other, trying to get him out of you. But you could not stop the low moaning coming from you. His head was on the desk, smiling innocently. You wondered if he knew what he was doing. 

“Do I have it now?” You were about to question why he asked that until you felt his fingers get thicker and pump into you like a cock would. You moaned loudly and hunched over, trying to get away from the pleasure but couldn’t. He smiled at you, and he knew you were so close. Your cunt is clenching onto his fingers, and moans are spewing from your lips, unable to work. 

“Fuck Luffy! You’re about to make me cum.” He smiled innocently and continued going faster, and that was when you screamed out a moan. Liquid was spewing out of your pussycat as you squirted onto his fingers. You were gasping for air. 

"Now, can we cuddle?” He asked, watching you pant for air. You got up from your chair and noticed how it was soaking wet on your skirt. While he stretched back his hand and licked at his fingers.

[ak319]

(AN: Reader is 13-15, Arthur, 23-24)

Warnings: Not incest, strictly platonic, angst, fluff

You watched Arthur’s every move as he settled in, his face weary yet hardened, scrubbing off remnants of dirt and whatever else he’d encountered in the washing barrel. You lowered the clothes you were folding, feeling the slight twinge of nerves as you reached for his stew.

He liked it hot, which meant you had to reheat the pot. You realized you hadn’t eaten all day, but you brushed the thought aside. Taking the bowl in hand, you crossed over to him as he finally sat down, visibly exhausted.

“Here, Arthur." You said softly, extending the bowl to him.

He grunted in response, the closest thing to a “thank you” he would offer, and took it from you, his gaze giving you a quick once-over before returning to his meal. Routine checkup as you called it.

Trying to bridge the silence, you ventured, “So...how was it?”

Arthur barely looked up. “Was what?”

“The job…” You tried not to sound too eager, but the truth was, you were starved for any scrap of conversation, any glimpse into the part of his life that stayed cloaked in secrecy.

“Went well.” He replied curtly, still focused on his food.

A brief silence followed as you fiddled with a strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. You felt a familiar ache bloom at the base of your skull and then another one at the abdomen, a dreadful sensation. Just then, it hit you, your period was due.

You froze, holding the empty tray as the realization dawned. Arthur looked up, stew mid-bite, and raised a brow at your sudden stillness, your gaze into space.

“What’s got you standin’ there like a ghost?” he muttered.

“Huh? Oh… nothing,” you managed to reply, trying to appear casual, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint flush that had spread across your face.

“Need... anything?”

"Um..." You started pondering which perhaps went on for a minute.

Arthur’s gruff voice interrupted your thoughts. He reached into his pocket and, with a casual flick, tossed a few crumpled bills onto the tray. “Your pocket money. Now, go brew the coffee.”

The whole thing felt like a bad joke. Arthur tossed you a few bucks every so often, calling it "pocket money," like you could waltz into town and buy whatever you wanted. But he was always right there with you whenever you went to the market, keeping a close eye on everything. Or you had to give him the list.

“Uh? Um... th-thanks.”

Arthur's brow furrowed, his gaze sharpening. "What’s wrong with you today? Why are you actin’ weird?”

You forced a chuckle, shaking your head. “I’m fine, actually. You’re the one who is wei-, um looks tired. I’ll get on with the coffee.”

Before he could question you further, you hurried off, trying to shake the unease settling in your stomach. As you set the coffee pot on, you remembered the stew you’d set aside for yourself and turned toward the wagon, only to see Pearson ladling out the last bowl for himself.

A pang of frustration mixed with the ache of hunger, you’d been so careful, setting everything up, and now even that small comfort had slipped through your fingers.

First, the looming sense of dread that seemed to haunt your every step, and now this, a missed meal because Pearson snatched up the last bowl of stew without a second thought. Emotions churned, thick and heavy, clouding your mind as you went about your tasks in a haze.

You delivered Arthur’s damn coffee, scrubbed his dishes clean, and finished up the rest of your chores, all while running on nothing more than stale biscuits and the last dregs of (tea/coffee). Asking others for food? You didn’t want to be seen as Arthur’s sister, the one mooching off his work, asking for scraps, felt cheap, when he practically carried the camp on his shoulders. The thought made your stomach churn with resentment and embarrassment. Yeah, not something a Morgan does. Although in your opinion, you shouldn't be doing anything if he earns the most...but whatever. Asking from your brother? If he found out you skipped lunch. He’d be livid, calling you reckless or worse for not managing the basics, you couldn't handle a scolding at the moment.

Frustration gnawed at you. It wasn't just the hunger, it was the constant grind of chores, endless and thankless, all because you were one of the few women in the camp. Susan wielded her age like a shield, always finding ways to rest while you and Annabelle picked up the slack. But even Annabelle was too busy, neck-deep in whatever business kept her hands clean of the daily tasks. And so, it fell to you.

You flopped onto your cot, hiding your face in the pillow as the pains of hunger and period mixed with a deeper ache, one of loneliness, exhaustion, and memories you could almost taste. You remembered your mother’s gentle hand on your forehead when you were ill, the comforting smell of warm food she’d bring, and the luxury of rest she allowed you. It felt like a distant, lost dream now. Here, rest wasn’t an option, it was a rare privilege you couldn’t afford. Great, now your pillow is also wet with tears.

⋆⋆⋆

You were knee-deep in a mountain of laundry, your temper simmering with each aggressive scrub against the washboard. The clothes bore the brunt of your pent-up frustration, wrung and scrubbed with a vengeance. Suddenly, something light and obnoxious hit the basket, a boy’s underwear. You knew immediately who the culprit was.

"How. Dare. You?" you snapped, eyes narrowing.

John, already a few steps away, stopped and turned, a lazy smirk creeping across his face. "What? You’re the one washing."

"Yes, I am the one washing, you jerk." You grabbed the offending article and chucked it back at him, hitting him square in the face. His eyes widened, and he gasped, genuinely taken aback.

"But I am not washing that!" you said, pointing at the ragged underwear as if it were a symbol of all your grievances. "Those are for you to wash, understand?"

John held the underwear in his hands, clearly bewildered. "What? Why? Is it not… a cloth? And why would I wash it? I’ve got way more important things to do." His voice grated against your headache, every word echoing like a drumbeat in your skull.

"Important huh? Okay. Then let's solve this problem another way."

You could feel your patience unraveling, and, without thinking, you yanked a pair of scissors from your belt and snipped through the fabric with one swift motion.

"Hey! That was one of my two pairs! What the hell is wrong with you?!" he yelped, clutching the scraps as if they were made of gold.

"Then maybe you should think twice before tossing them my way! Now go and cry." you shot back, but the anger and heat were taking their toll. Your vision blurred slightly, the world beginning to spin.

John’s voice rose in protest, but it sounded muffled, distant. You took a step back, steadying yourself on the edge of the wash basin, blinking rapidly to try and clear your head. "Damn heat… and damn you, John…" you muttered, but the words seemed to tangle and drift as darkness crept in at the corners of your vision.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first sight that met you was Ms. Grimshaw, her familiar face creased with concern as she fanned you gently with a worn-out piece of fabric.

"Ah! You are awake, quite the theatrics you put on out there..." Her voice was both exasperated and relieved. You let out a soft groan in response, turning onto your side, trying to escape the brightness of the day that felt too harsh against your feverish skin. Your throat felt like sandpaper, and the heavy weight of your head pressed down against the pillow.

"T-time...?" you managed to croak, the words feeling foreign in your mouth.

"It's four," she replied, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

Your eyes shot open wide in panic. "T-the clothes? I-"

Susan rolled her eyes, cutting you off. "I washed them, don't worry. But tomorrow you gotta do them, got it? And what’s with you tearing that boy’s underwear?"

"Huh...? What?" Confusion clouded your thoughts as you reached for your canteen, the bitter taste in your mouth only worsening your discomfort.

"Forget it," she huffed, shaking her head. "Oh, I hear him. I think Arthur's back."

Panic surged through you as you struggled to focus, the realization hitting hard. Arthur. You had to see him, make his coffee, bring him his food, and make sure he knew you were at the camp and doing your part in the camp. But every instinct in you rebelled against the idea, your muscles weak and senses dulled as if they’d given up the fight.

Your vision blurred, and you sank deeper into the cot, eyelids heavy, your body refusing to cooperate. You barely registered Susan’s faint, dismissive muttering as she left the tent, her words blending into a haze of disapproval. For now, making sure Arthur was taken care of was the least of your worries.

Meanwhile, Susan spotted Arthur sitting by his cot, his irritation palpable. Freshly cleaned up from his last job, he seemed expectant, perhaps wondering where you were with his usual meal or coffee. Sensing an opportunity to stir up trouble, she approached him, her tone casual but dripping with judgment.

"Mr. Morgan," she began with a sly look, "your sister did nothing today. Not a damn thing. And right now? She’s sleeping in, like she's royalty or something."

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Why would she do that?”

“Who knows?” Susan shrugged with exaggerated indifference. “She had some spat with John, then just sulked off and refused to lift a finger.”

The moment the words left her lips, Arthur was on his feet, his expression hardening. Without a word to Susan, he strode to your tent and pushed open the flap, not bothering to knock. His gaze swept over you, expecting to find you feigning sleep, or maybe just ignoring the day’s tasks.

"What the hell is you-"

But the sight of you, lying pale and motionless beneath the blanket, immediately stopped him in his tracks. A faint flush tinged your face, and your breathing was shallow. His agitation shifted to alarm in an instant.

Arthur knelt beside you, his hand reaching to press gently against your forehead, feeling the unmistakable heat of fever radiating through his palm. “Damn it,” he muttered, guilt and worry flooding his face. He’d been ready to scold you for shirking camp duties, and instead, here you were, worn down to the bone.

Your eyes fluttered open, barely focusing as you tried to mumble something. “Arthur... I meant... to get your food… just…”

His jaw tightened, frustration directed inward. “You’ve been pushin’ yourself too hard,” he said, his voice low but edged with anger, at himself, at Susan, at anyone who’d failed to notice what you were going through. “You’re coming with me to the clinic, no arguments.”

You nodded weakly, relief and exhaustion settling over you. Without another word, he slipped his arms beneath you, lifting you up with a gentleness that made your heart ache.

As he carried you to the stables, he did not forget to throw a bloodthirsty look at Susan making her gulp. It clearly stated.

'You are dead if something happens to her.'

The air in the clinic was thick with the smell of antiseptic and the soft rustle of the doctor’s coat as he examined you. Arthur sat beside you, his brow furrowed with concern, his hand clenched into a fist resting on his thigh. You lay on the cot, shivering despite the blanket wrapped around you, your pallor alarming him even more than before. The doctor’s voice was a distant murmur, but the words echoed in your ears.

“She’s suffering from dehydration fever. It’s left her weak, but with proper treatment, she should recover. Make sure she stays hydrated, and she’ll need rest, here's the prescription and you can go home if you want once the drip is finished..” The doctor turned to you one last time with a gentle smile. "Rest well, alright? Lots of it."

As soon as the door clicked shut behind the doctor, Arthur turned to you, his expression shifting from worry to something sharper, more intense. “What the hell were you thinking?!” he snapped, his voice low but edged with anger. “You could have told me you weren’t feeling well. Instead, you’ve been pushing yourself like this?”

You flinched at his tone, the weight of his words mixing with the guilt that already gnawed at you. “I--but you said...that I gotta...work...” you started, but the words caught in your throat, and instead of explanations, tears began to prick at your eyes.

"FUCK WHAT I SAID!- "He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I also said to take care of yourself, I am not always around! And just--look at you..."

“I--I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, your voice trembling. “I thought I could manage...”

“Thought!?” he echoed, incredulous. “You can’t just think you can handle it all when you’re this sick! You’ve been working yourself to the bone! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you ask for help?” His voice rose with each word, frustration spilling over as he paced the floor, refusing to meet your gaze.

"And what did you just tell the doctor, huh? That this wasn't the first time it happened?! Are you kidding me?! Are you tryin' to waste yourself?!"

The harshness of his tone cut through you, and you couldn’t help the tears that began to spill down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your throat tightening. As you looked into his furious eyes, the dam broke. The tears spilt over, hot and unrelenting as you remembered all the times, you put him and others first, in fear.

In fear of being left with strangers while Arthur is away and thinking that they might say or do something to you if you don't do the work properly.

"Damn it,” he murmured, his voice softening. “I didn’t mean to-”

“I was...scared and I-I--miss her,” you sobbed, clutching the blanket tightly around you as if it could shield you from the pain. “I miss Mama. She would know what to do. She would take care of me…please take me to Mama...” Your voice cracked, the memories of her soothing presence and the comfort she always provided weighing heavily on your heart.

Arthur’s anger faltered as he watched you break down. hearing you call for Mama again and again was agonizing. He felt his heart twist painfully at your words, the memories of your mother hanging heavy in the air. “I know,” he said quietly, his voice losing its edge. He reached out, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks, his own frustration melting away in the face of your grief. “I miss her too. But you can’t go on like this. You need to take care of yourself for her, for both of us. And why the hell are you scared, you are my sis' and as long as I am alive, no one can touch a strand of yours,” He pulled you in a side hug carefully.

"And listen here, from now on, you only do my chores. Fuck the camp." You pulled away slightly, in shock.

"W-what?"

He nodded with a playful smile. "Damn right. You get better and you do my work only. Susan can surely handle the others, right?"

You blinked up at him, your surprise turning into disbelief. “Arthur, you can’t just tell me to ignore everything else... I can’t put that on Susan. She-”

He interrupted you with a firm squeeze of your hand, his eyes softening. “I can and I will. You need to rest, and if that means I have to play the tyrant for a bit, so be it. Besides, Susan can manage. She’s been slacking off more than you realize. And if someone has a problem with it then they can come to me. Anytime.”

A small laugh, almost devilish, bubbled up despite your exhaustion, the tension easing slightly. You snuggled back into the hug to calm your shivering.

“That's...that would be fun to watch."

He nodded and you decided to press your advantage. “Um…so tell her to do your chores too-”

"Don't get too ahead of yourself now."

I hate you.

“Get well soon, and you better take your meds and all when I ain’t around.” Arthur’s voice held a rough tenderness, though he masked it with a gruff tone. Beneath his impatience, you sensed a genuine worry, a hint of eagerness for you to recover, not that he’d admit it, of course. His true motive, or so he told himself, was purely practical.

Pearson’s stew lacked the warmth and care you added to every meal, and coffee was never quite right unless you made it.

He groaned inwardly, imagining another week of choking down meals without your touch. But the look he shot you as he spoke was more protective than he probably intended, softening just enough that you knew he was looking out for you.

“Did ye’ even hear me, missy?” he muttered, noticing your eyelids drooping, his words somewhere between annoyed and fond.

You jumped, startled out of the drowsiness that was starting to creep over you, and gave a hum of acknowledgement.

⋆⋆⋆

John rushed up to Arthur as he emerged from your tent, having just ensured you were well-fed and rested.

"What is it, you rascal?" Arthur asked, turning to face him with a mix of curiosity and annoyance.

“Um... I was looking forward to a compensation…” John trailed off, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“For?” Arthur raised an eyebrow amused, the impatience creeping into his tone.

“(Y/N), tore... she... tore my underwear, which is not fair...I only asked her to wash it...I mean....”

A smirk crept across Arthur's face. “She did the right thing, I am proud of her.” He grabbed John by the back of his neck, pulling him close with a playful yet threatening grin.

"My sis ain't your maid, boy, got it? In fact, nobody's maid here. Wash your shit yourself.” The playful banter vanished, replaced by a weighty silence as Arthur's gaze hardened. He gave John a firm shove, sending him stumbling back and casually walking back to his own tent, chuckling at the boy's foolish request.

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; soap earns himself the silent treatment. meanwhile, you prepare for your confrontation with makarov, summoning back an old friend under the half-moon.

⚠️ warnings; none

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

The drive back to their shared home was long, tense and quiet, each second stretching painfully over the old car’s steady rumble. Johnny sat in the passenger seat, shoulders hunched, gaze fixed on the passing scenery rather than risk another glance at Price’s set jaw and narrowed eyes. 

When they pulled into the driveway, the late afternoon light painted their home bright. The front door creaked as Price pushed it open, his silence as heavy as a reprimand. Johnny followed, his head down.

Inside, the atmosphere was stifling. 

Gaz leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed, his mouth pressed into a tight line. Ghost stood near the window, hands shoved into his pockets, staring out as if he expected to see something—someone—materialize on the empty street. Neither of them acknowledged Johnny’s return.

Price took off his jacket, tossed it over a chair, and let out a weary sigh. He moved to join Gaz at the island. Laswell’s reports and notes lay scattered on the table: printed documents, scribbled post-its, and a few articles of speculation. They’d been working through the little information Leah had given them—threads of truth knotted with curses and creatures—trying to find something solid to hold onto.

Johnny dared not speak first. The weight of what he had done—going after you alone, risking everything—clung to him like a bad scent. He accepted their silent punishment. He deserved it. Instead, he busied himself in his room with his laptop, firing it up and tapping into old forums, messaging a few trusted contacts. If you wouldn’t return to them, perhaps they could come to you. But how?

He opened a private browser and typed out careful inquiries on niche forums and subreddits dedicated to the occult and magical communities. He knew from experience that if any place could confirm whether outsiders were welcome in the territory the Le Fay line looked after, it would be one of these hidden corners of the internet. He kept his questions vague, professional, and patient. After all, desperation would only draw suspicion.

Johnny’s typing slowed. Magical territory and old coven lands. His search queries grew more specific, more desperate. He tapped into old friend groups—people he’d worked small jobs with before—and sent cautious feelers out. Was the Le Fay territory open to outsiders? Could one simply visit, no matter their magical alignment?

It was a long shot. But after all that had happened, long shots were all they had left.

In the meantime, Gaz’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and frowned slightly. Casting a look toward Price, then Ghost—who didn’t meet his eyes—Gaz spoke quietly, his voice subdued but deliberate. “My mum texted back.” 

Gaz scrolled through the message with quick, flicks of his thumb, his brow furrowed deeply. After a moment, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before setting his phone down.

“She says the parasite’s nature looks vampiric,” he began, tone heavy with reluctant focus. “Something like a succubus—feeding off essence, corrupting bonds. Apparently, it’s rare.”

Silence fell again, each man processing the update. Ghost’s gaze remained fixed out the window, jaw tight beneath his balaclava. Price leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple as if to summon some revelation. Gaz, meanwhile, fiddled with his phone, the screen lighting up intermittently as he switched between texts and notes.

“Anything else?” Price asked after a long moment, his voice subdued but probing.

Gaz hesitated, then groaned as if the answer physically pained him. “Yeah…another essay from Mum. Not just about the parasite—she’s scolding me again.” He paused, his tone dipping into annoyed disbelief. “And she’s got a suggestion. One I really wish she didn’t.”

“What kind of suggestion?” Price asked, leaning forward.

Gaz shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not doing it.”

“Why not?” Price pressed, his eyes narrowing.

Gaz hesitated again, his fingers tapping anxiously against the edge of his phone. “Because it’s invasive. Dangerous. And honestly? Pretty desperate.” His voice grew quieter, more strained. “Besides… we’re past the point where it could help. She knows that.”

“Let us decide that,” Price countered firmly. “What’s she suggesting?”

Gaz didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed somewhere on the table in front of him. He sighed deeply, as if bracing himself, and muttered, “It’s a procedure. Something to… extract her current whereabouts.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Ghost turned his head slightly, his gaze sharp but unreadable. Price’s expression darkened, his voice dropping into a near-growl.

“Explain.”

. . .

The air was thick with the scent of herbs and damp earth as you pushed open the heavy glass door to your Mom’s greenhouse. Inside, the warm glow of lanterns lit rows of pots and planters arranged with meticulous care. Rich, loamy scents mingled with floral notes, and your Mom—ever careful and nurturing—sat in her wheelchair at the far end of the main aisle, a soft shawl draped over her shoulders. Horangi stood nearby, his watchful eyes drifting between you and the delicate seedlings he’d been tending to.

“There you are, my darling,” your Mom said, her voice carrying easily through the hush of growing things. She maneuvered forward, the hand-like appendages of her enchanted chair adapting seamlessly to the uneven floor. “I’ve set aside the moon-bloom petals and dried bloodberry leaves you’ll need. They’re potent wards against vampiric auras.”

“Thank you,” you replied, your voice quieter than intended. Sybil sneezed at your side, her nose twitching at the array of scents. From overhead, the lanternlight flickered, sending shadows dancing across your Mom’s features as she passed you a small wooden box. “Use these wisely. The petals especially—you know they react best under moonlight. One whiff of these and even the slyest vampire should think twice before approaching.”

You nodded, slipping the box into your satchel. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you promised, lips pressed into a determined line.

Horangi stepped forward, extending a vial of something oily and dark. “For your dagger,” he said simply, his voice low and respectful. “Coat it before the fight. If he tries to heal, this will slow him down.”

You accepted it with a murmured thanks, meeting both his gaze and your Mom’s. They nodded, and you caught a glimmer in her eyes—something tender, something that might have been regret or remorse if she knew how to let it show. She extended her hand, placing it softly over yours. 

“You’re stronger than you know,” your Mom said, her tone quieter than usual, more personal. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

You realized, with a sudden ache, that this was her way of apologizing, of acknowledging the cost of everything that had come before. She wouldn’t say it outright—she never would. But in this subtle gesture, in this show of faith and support, she was offering something close to atonement. It wasn’t enough, not for all the scars you carried, but it was more than you’d ever expected.

The silence that followed felt heavy, not with tension, but with the weight of understanding. You nodded, not trusting your voice to remain steady if you spoke.

“I know” you managed at last, your words thin but sincere.

She let her hand slip away gently, and you stepped back from the table. With that, you turned and made your way out of the greenhouse, back into the manor’s long corridors. The transition was stark: from warm, humid air scented with vegetation to cooler hallways lit by candles in their sconces. The old wood floors creaked softly underfoot, each step echoing back. Sybil padded silently beside you, the gentle click of her nails on the floor the only constant sound.

König appeared at the end of the corridor, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearly waiting for you. Since your confrontation, his demeanor had shifted in subtle ways—you caught a glimpse of regret in how he carried himself, uncertainty in how he set his shoulders.

He approached, inclining his head. “Need help with anything else?” he asked, voice lower than usual, as if not to startle you. “I could fetch more supplies, or…..”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a once-over. “So helpful today, aren’t we?” The words came out sharper than you intended. 

His shoulders tensed, but he managed a nod, contrite. “….I know you don’t trust me fully. But I’m with you on this. Whatever you need.”

You let a moment pass, watching him, gauging his sincerity. “Fine.” A sigh escaped your lips as you led him down the hallway. “I need to pick up a few texts from the library. Spells for binding, wards that might hold a vampire if I can’t kill him outright.” You spoke matter-of-factly, as if discussing a grocery list rather than tools for murder.

König followed you to the library, a vast room lined with shelves so tall that rolling ladders were needed to reach the uppermost volumes. The scent of old parchment and leather bindings wrapped around you, comforting in its familiarity.

“I’ve never seen so many books on curses and wards,” König murmured, craning his neck to read spines bearing cryptic symbols. His tone was less guarded now, genuinely curious. “When you were away… with the pack, did you manage to study much magic, or were you more focused on…”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, not missing his subtle attempt to pry more about your life with the pack. Still, you needed him cooperative. You pulled out a thick tome with a silver clasp, setting it on a nearby table. “I studied what I could, here and there,” you replied vaguely. “Different priorities back then. Different goals.”

He nodded, accepting the non-answer without protest. “I see. Just… trying to understand.”

You snorted softly, flipping through the pages until you found the section on vampiric wards. “Don’t try too hard,” you said, but not unkindly. “Just make sure you’re ready to hold your own if things get messy.”

König cleared his throat. “I’ll go check on our transport. Make sure it's ready.”

You inclined your head, watching him depart with measured steps. At least he was trying, in his own way. Turning back to the shelf, you selected another slim volume and tucked it under your arm. 

Gathering a few other volumes, you adjusted the weighty satchel on your shoulder and stepped back out into the hallway. The manor’s corridors were quiet, Sybil following close, her tail brushing against your leg as you walked.

A young maid passed by, balancing a small tray of linens in her arms. You raised a hand, catching her eye, and she immediately dipped her head in a respectful nod, coming to a halt. Her posture was wary but attentive, her gaze flicking briefly toward Sybil before settling on you.

“I need you to take these, please,” you said, your tone even, gesturing to the satchel and the extra texts tucked under your arm, “and deliver them to my room. After that, find Fiona—tell her I want her to bring all necessary things to the pond behind the property.”

You paused, making sure the maid understood. “She’ll know what I mean.”

The maid blinked, curiosity dancing behind her lowered gaze. She hesitated only a moment before carefully accepting the offered items. “Yes, miss,” she replied softly, her voice steady if subdued. Then, adjusting her hold on the bundle, she hurried down the corridor, her footsteps echoing faintly as she went.

You then set off once again, the next steps of your plan falling quietly into place.

. . .

The moon was half, casting a silver-blue sheen over the property’s secluded pond. It's still surface reflected the stars and the faint outline of trees, painting a quiet, sacred picture. Barefoot, and dressed only in a light robe-like garment that fell loosely around your frame, you could feel every blade of grass, every pebble beneath your feet. Wearing nothing underneath was your way of showing humility and respect, a tradition you had failed to fulfill during your previous attempt at this ritual.

Sybil trotted beside you, her soft white fur catching the half-moon’s glow. She stayed close but unobtrusive. The scent of damp earth and evening blooms filled your lungs as you approached the pond’s edge, each step slow and deliberate.

Fiona awaited you there, her posture calm and reverent. She wore a simple veil draped over her hair and eyes, a gesture of respect for what was to come. At her feet lay a small bundle of ingredients wrapped in clean linen. When you reached her, she inclined her head wordlessly.

“Everything is here, as you requested,” Fiona said softly, lifting the linen to reveal sprigs of rosemary, thyme, and lavender. She placed a small pouch of salt at the edge of the cloth, and then bowed her head again.

You nodded, acknowledging her with a quiet “Thank you,” and Fiona departed, her footsteps fading into the hush of the night. You and Sybil were left alone with the whispering wind and the faint chorus of crickets.

Kneeling by the pond, you carefully mixed the herbs—rosemary for protection, thyme for courage, lavender for clarity. The handful of salt followed, grounding the mixture and purifying it. All that remained was a drop of your blood. You pressed the tip of a small, clean blade against your thumb and let a single red bead drip onto the mixture. The herbs and salt seemed to hush even further, as if waiting for the next step.

Sybil watched on, ears perked, as you swirled the mixture gently in the water at the pond’s edge. The night air seemed to still, and you could almost feel the veil between worlds thinning once again. The soft glow of the moon on the water’s surface danced as you murmured her name under your breath:

“Nimue,” you whispered, voice steady despite the thudding of your heart. “Lady of the Lake.”

At first, there was nothing but silence and the gentle lap of water against the shore. Then the surface of the pond began to shimmer, the reflection of the moonlight twisting, bending, as though disturbed from beneath. Slowly, Nimue emerged, her dark, damp hair clinging to her neck. She rose until her shoulders were visible, her arms folded softly over the edge of the water as if resting on an invisible ledge.

Nimue tilted her head, her eyes ancient and calm. Without hesitation, you leaned forward, letting your robe’s hem brush lightly against the edge. You reached out, not for a weapon or a spell, but for her hand, which hovered just above the pond’s mirror-like surface. Her skin was cool to the touch, and as you brought her hand closer, you pressed your lips gently to her knuckles, closing your eyes briefly in deference.

“So thou rememberest the old ways,” quoth Nimue, her voice like distant chimes. “Aye, centuries have passed since any did greet me so. The last time… King Arthur himself knelt at these waters and pressed his lips to my hand, his heart full of quest and longing. Thou dost do him proud, child.”

She regarded you more closely, a wry tilt to her pale brow. “Of course, ’tis no mere happenstance that thou sharest the blood of mine wretched—albeit misunderstood—sister’s line. The old ties run deep, and fate weaveth her tapestry most strangely indeed.”

As you let her hand go, she regarded you with a gentle tilt of her head, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Verily, much hath changed since last we met. Whether for better or ill, I cannot yet say.”

You straightened, shoulders squared despite the humility of your attire and bare feet. “Nimue,” you began, respectful but firm, “I have not called you for counsel. I would like you to know what I am about to do.”

Her gray eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity lighting their depths. “Oh?” she breathed, as soft as the breeze across the pond.

Your heart tensed at the memory of the frim task before you. “I’m going to do what must be done to claim my rightful place as the future leader of the coven. I have to face Vladimir Makarov and take his head,” you said, voice unwavering even as your pulse thundered. “This isn’t a request or a plea. It’s a statement of intent. He dared to make me his prey, and I won’t allow it.”

For a moment, Nimue said nothing. She studied you in the moonlight, her silence weighted with centuries of wisdom and memory. Sybil nudged your leg, and you absently stroked her fur, refusing to break eye contact with the Lady of the Lake.

Nimue finally inclined her head, the faintest ripple spreading across the pond’s surface. “I see thou hast grown indeed,” she said, her tone holding quiet acknowledgment. “Whether thy path leadeth to glory or ruin is not mine to say, but I acknowledge thy choice.”

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “That’s all I needed,” you said quietly. “Just to tell someone beyond the coven’s whispers that I’m about to do this. To mark this moment, as Arthur once did when he knelt at these waters seeking the great sword.”

She smiled again, subtle and distant, as though recalling a memory eons old. The hush of the night pressed in around you, the water reflecting faint starlight and your own resolve.

“Very well,” Nimue concluded softly, “I have borne witness.”

With that, she began to sink beneath the surface, her eyes lingering on you until the last moment before the water stilled, as if she had never emerged. Only the echoes of her voice remained, woven into the quiet darkness.

You sat there for a while. No longer a plea, no longer a question—just a path chosen, a destiny embraced, and an ancient power bearing silent witness to what you would soon become.

banner credit

[starboye]

starring: rafe cameron x male reader

request: rafe cameron fucking his slutty bubble butt boyfriend after catching another man grinding on him at the club and rafe spanks him until reader is crying and at some point rafe makes him twerk while he’s still fucking him and if he stops he gets spanked

warnings: smut, cursing, drunk sex, alcohol, semi-public sex, dacryphilia, ass slapping

rafe decided to treat you to a night out at a club so you could have some fun after him not hanging out with you for a while, the music was loud and the drinks were overwhelming but it did help you loosen up from your tenseness "c'mon rafe just dance with me" you beg trying to pull him from the chair he sat in but he wasn't budging "nope i'm good right here, plus i like watching you dance instead" rafe said sipping on his beer in hand.

"fine" you huff letting go of his hand and walking to the dance floor, swaying your ass for his eyes as you walked away, you both knew you were a pro when it came to teasing him and with the way those shorts were riding up your ass it was getting hard for him to control his urges, wanting to drag you to somewhere private and fuck the hell out of you but he held back and let you have your fun for now.

he noticed his beer was a little empty and rose from his spto to get a new and in this brief moment somehow he came back to see you grinding up on some random man, the second he saw this his jaw clenched and it looked like he could break the bottle with how tight he was holding it, placing it on the table side and pushing his way through the sea of people to get to you.

he grabbed your arm snapping you out of your quite dazed and drunk state, panic setting in your face when you realized you were grinding your ass on another man "who the fuck are you" the man spoke "his fucking boyfriend" rafe sternly said holding back from punching the man in his face and just dragged you away and out the bar "and you question why i don't take you to the bar" rafe mutters pinching the bridge of his nose as you whined at him taking you from having fun.

"and was the fun you trying to fuck another guy" rafe asks in an enraged tone "i wasn't gonna fuck him i was just a little to drunk" you shyly mummer, rafe looked at you and then looked around to see an empty alley, dragging you to it as you stumbled over your own feet "well since you wanna have some fun then lets have some fun" rafe says pushing you onto the wall and unzipping his pants to let his hard on fall out.

he pulls your pants down to reveal you nice ass for him, he lathers his tip with some spit and slides into you with a moan, you letting out a small whimper, rafe holds your hands above your head as he thrusts into you with some but not a lot of force "yeah so fucking good f'me" rafe mutters as his hips begin moving on their own into you, he lays a small slap on your ass to watch it jiggle on his dick, making a small tear fall on your cheek which catches rafes attention.

ha smacks your ass again making you whine and another tear to drop, he was getting pleasure from punishing you for being such a slut "yeah you're such a slut right, just love throwing your ass on men right" rafe asks turning your head to look at him, your eyes having a coat of water over them as tears brim in the corners "mm mm" you shake your head "well then what would you call that in the club" rafe asks.

"since you can do that to him you can damn sure do it for me right" rafe smirks stopping his movements into you and slapping your ass to make you fuck yourself on his cock, you slowly move back and forth on him, slowing for just a second making rafe slap your ass once more "keep going" rafe demands and you obey, resuming your actions slowly with the sweet degrading words of rafe, him leaning his head onto your shoulder and grabbing your chin to turn your face to slightly look at him.

"such a good fucking slut for me right baby, just love the way my cock fits in you" he lowly says kissing your neck, one hand keeping your ass moving around his dick "just want me to fill you with my cum huh" rafe asks moving his hand to jerk you off "might just keep you home, fuck you so your don't have to go out and try to fuck other men" rafe says in a sultry tone tightening his hand, wanting you to cum with him.

"m'close" rafe says and you nod signaling you are too "f-fuck" you croak before you cum into rafes hands with a small moan and rafe soon following behind as he spills his load into you making you both feel so good "rafe" you say before falling into rafes arms "let's get you home light weight" rafe laughs bridal carrying you to his truck and driving home.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune

[pinkthick]

A Nocturne in Melody

Pairing: Vampire!Viktor x Reader

Summary: Viktor chuckled, finally breaking into a smile. He pulled back slightly, looking at you with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. “Well, someone’s confident,” he teased, his eyes sparkling. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Maybe I need to be less generous with my compliments if you’re going to be like this.”

Notes: So this takes place practically in part 3, but I decided to divide them. (You can read it even if you haven’t read the previous parts) This is probably my first smut that tends to be vanilla, but it focuses more on the emotional and intimate part—and I think that serves Viktor right. With all these being said, enjoy!🙏🏻

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI OR I’LL HAUNT YOUR DREAMS. 🗣️ and dw it doesn’t contain spoilers.

Masterlist: A Nocturne in Melody

Part 4

As you stepped into the apartment, the cold of the rain still clung to you both, water dripping from your clothes and leaving small puddles on the floor. You could barely close the door behind you before Viktor turned, pulling you close once more, his lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that was hungry, almost desperate. His hand cupped your face gently, and yet there was an intensity to the way his fingers curled around you, as though he wanted to remember every sensation, every movement.

But as you shifted to meet his embrace, a sharp pain shot through your leg. You winced, instinctively pulling back, and Viktor’s eyes widened, immediately concerned.

“Oh—I’m sorry,” he whispered, stepping back just enough to give you space, his face a mix of apology and worry. His gaze dropped to your leg, the worry clear in his expression.

“It’s fine,” you murmured, giving him a reassuring smile as you reached for him again. This time, you let your cane drop to the floor, letting it fall with a soft clatter as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back into the kiss. You felt the tension ease out of him as his arms found their way around your waist, drawing you closer until there was barely an inch between you. His lips met yours again, softer this time, a hint of hesitance, as if he was holding himself back.

You could feel the damp fabric of his shirt under your fingers as you reached up to loosen his tie, slowly, deliberately, untying the knot. Viktor’s breath hitched slightly as he watched you, his amber-red eyes darkened with a mix of nervousness and something deeper. He swallowed hard, looking almost shy as you let the tie slip from his collar and drop to the floor.

Since his transformation, this closeness had taken on a different meaning. There was an intensity in his touch now, a new strength in his embrace, and yet he seemed more hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap between what you both had shared before and who he was now. Back then, you’d often taken the lead, knowing he’d tire easily or feel the effects of his illness. But now, there was a hesitance in him, a layer of shyness as though he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the power he held.

Your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, and he shivered slightly, his fingers instinctively tightening at your waist, as though grounding himself. His gaze flickered to yours, watching every move you made as if trying to read your thoughts. When you reached the last button, you paused, meeting his gaze, and he gave you a soft, almost bashful smile, a hint of color rising in his cheeks despite everything you’d shared in the past.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, a vulnerability in his expression that made your heart ache. It was Viktor, the same person you’d loved through years of struggle and uncertainty, yet now there was something in his eyes that was almost new — a hint of insecurity, a question that went unspoken.

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb brushing over his cheek as you nodded. “We’ve got engaged after all.”

With a deep breath, Viktor’s lips met yours again, more assured this time. His fingers found the zipper of your dress, carefully sliding it down, his touch feather-light as if afraid to hurt you. You let the fabric fall, leaving your shoulders bare as the dress slipped down, pooling at your feet. Viktor’s gaze softened, his hands moving up to cradle your face, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek as continued to kiss you, his lips pressing to yours with a tenderness that took your breath away.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, a hint of uncertainty lingering. “I… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you whispered, reaching up to run a hand through his damp hair, the strands soft beneath your fingers. “I know this is going to be different, but I trust you.”

The words seemed to calm him, and he relaxed, leaning into your touch as his hands moved down, tracing over your arms, your sides, exploring each curve with a newfound confidence. His fingers were gentle, but there was a hint of firmness in his touch, a quiet strength that felt both familiar and new. He took his time, as though savoring every moment, every inch of you, his gaze warm and adoring as he held you close. You felt your breath quicken as his hands found their way to your hips, pulling you against him. There was something different about him, a quiet assurance in the way he moved, as though he was finally allowing himself to embrace this new part of himself. His fingers trailed along your spine, sending shivers through you, and he smiled, a bit shyly, at the way you reacted to his touch.

And then he leaned down, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses along your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he traced a path from your collarbone to your shoulder. You felt his fangs brush lightly against your skin, but he held back, his restraint evident, as if he was afraid to lose control.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, and his grip tightened, his hands pressing into your waist as if anchoring himself. There was a softness to his movements, a care that was almost reverent, and as you looked into his eyes, you could see the love and vulnerability reflected there. He guided you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He sat down, pulling you onto his lap, his hands steady as they found your waist again, holding you close. You felt his warmth, the steady beat of his heart against your chest, as he layed down with you.

Viktor’s fingers trailed up as he undid your bra, his touch warm and steady, and he leaned in to kiss you again, his lips soft and inviting. You melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, and even now, he fidgeted slightly, his hands hovering as if unsure where to settle them. The lingering hint of rain hung in the air, mixing with his nervous laughter as he tried to settle his focus on you instead of his apprehensions.

He exhaled, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I just feel like I won’t actually excel in this,” he admitted, glancing down with a slight flush. “There are plenty of things I haven’t done before.”

“Viktor,” you said, feeling a smile tug at your mouth, “you’re thinking like a scientist when we’re having sex.”

He chuckled, his head dropping for a second before he met your gaze again, his red eyes warm, soft, and full of vulnerability. “Not sexy?”

“Not sexy,” you teased. “But if you’re that scared, then just let me guide you.”

He let out a shaky breath, the faintest laugh under his breath. “I feel like a virgin all over again.”

You chuckled as your hand rested lightly on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, steady and strong but with a quickening pulse just beneath the surface. He was healthier than he’d ever been, yet somehow he was shy, almost like the Viktor you’d known before everything changed.

“Then let me help,” you murmured, pressing closer. Your hand brushed his cheek, soft and slow, giving him a smile of encouragement as you closed the space between you. He looked nervous, yet he responded to your touch with a gentle hum, his fingers grazing along your back, unsure but eager to please. There was something endearing about his apprehension, something that reminded you of how tentative he could be despite his vampire strength.

He swallowed, his eyes half-lidded as he met your gaze. "I just...I want to get this right for you. Just tell me what to do."

You felt a smile tug at your lips as you let your fingers wander down his chest, feeling the tension there, the way his breath hitched with each of your movements. "You’re always so good for me, aren’t you?" A low, reluctant groan escaped him as you trailed your fingers further down, feeling the warmth of him through the fabric. You were met with a gaze full of both vulnerability and desire, something raw that Viktor rarely let himself show. He clutched your other hand as if seeking reassurance, his breathing uneven.

"I don’t...I don’t want to disappoint you."

You leaned in, lips brushing against his ear as you whispered softly, “You could never disappoint me, my good boy.” you couldn’t help but stroke him, just a little, feeling the way he reacted to your touch. His hips moved instinctively, thrusting forward slightly as he let out a low groan. His face flushed, his eyes narrowing with a mix of surprise and desire. His body betrayed him, moving on its own, and you could tell that it was all he could do to keep from losing control entirely.

“You’re not the only one who can’t keep their hands to themselves,” you whispered, your voice teasing, yet filled with affection. “You feel that, Viktor? You’re making me crazy.”

He felt pathetic. You weren’t even stroking him properly, just through his boxers. His breath caught in his throat as you continued to stroke him, the tension between you growing with every second.

Viktor's hands trembled just slightly as he caught yours, stopping your touch and looking down at you with that familiar gaze that held so much warmth, so much affection—and tonight, something even more intense, something raw. He was panting, trying to steady himself, and his voice came out low, barely above a whisper.

“Too much?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

He shook his head, his hand still holding yours gently but firmly, as if anchoring himself. “N—no,” he said, his breath hitching. “But tonight... tonight isn’t about me.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, soft and full of warmth. There was something endearing about his determination, about how he wanted to give this to you, even if his own restraint was a challenge. It reminded you of everything that made him who he was—kind, selfless, always thinking of others first.

You relaxed against him, letting him guide you as he positioned your thighs, his touch reverent yet slightly hesitant, as if still uncertain of his own control. You raised an eyebrow, your voice teasing as you asked, “You were bolder outside, what happened?”

“Hush. You told me you’d let me work.” A flicker of a smile crossed his lips, and you could see the light in his eyes, a mix of amusement and anticipation. He had surprised himself outside, you knew, and now the closeness, the privacy, was letting his self-consciousness creep back in.

But he didn’t shy away. Viktor’s hand moved down, and he hooked his fingers into the fabric of your panties, tugging them off slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. Every movement felt deliberate, as if he wanted to savor this, to make it last.

As he guided your legs just a bit wider, positioning you carefully, he paused, glancing down at you with a touch of concern. “Pillow?” he asked. You nodded as Viktor’s hand moved to gently support your lower back, positioning a pillow under you with deliberate care. Even in this intimate moment, he remained gentle, ensuring you were comfortable, his attention solely on your needs. Fuck, you loved him. He gave you a reassuring smile before finally slipping off his boxers, his movements a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

For a moment, he simply looked at you, his gaze tracing over every detail as if he wanted to commit it to memory. His voice was soft but filled with emotion as he whispered, “You’re... so perfect. I don’t say this enough.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, his sincerity so evident in his gaze that it made your heart ache with affection. “You do say it enough.”

He shook his head as he settled over you, his touch became more confident, a slow, steady exploration that revealed his growing comfort in this new closeness. His hands slid over your skin, fingertips leaving a trail of warmth as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, then moved lower, his lips tracing the curve of your collarbone with a careful reverence that made you shiver.

For Viktor, this felt like uncharted territory, taking the lead, and yet, with each shared touch, you could feel him finding his footing, grounding himself in the connection you both shared. You reached up, brushing your fingers against his cheek, pulling him closer, and he leaned into the touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He paused, searching your eyes, as if needing that final reassurance. You offered him a smile, cupping his face, and he melted into you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deep. The moment he entered you, there was a sharp intake of breath from both of you—a shared gasp as you adjusted to each other, every sensation intensified by the tenderness of the moment. Viktor’s hand found yours on the sheets, his fingers lacing with yours as he pinned it down, a grounding connection that sent a thrill through you both.

“God—” he breathed, a shaky smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he settled into place, adjusting carefully as his eyes flicked up to meet yours. There was a vulnerability there, a glimmer of awe, as though he was still in disbelief that this was happening, that you were here together like this.

“Fuck,” you murmured back, a smile breaking through despite yourself. You could feel the depth of his emotions, the uncertainty giving way to a deep-seated trust. “Didn’t do this in a long time, huh?”

A soft, breathy laugh escaped him, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in response. “No,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “Not... not like this.” He dipped his head, pressing his lips against your shoulder, and then gave an experimental thrust.

You moaned, and Viktor’s eyes widened slightly at the sound, his own breath hitching in response. That little flash of confidence crept back into his expression, and he leaned into it. He felt you fully relax around him and started out slow. He set a languorous pace, softly opening you and filling you up with his cock. You wrapped your arms around his back, feeling his muscles flex under his skin. The feeling of him was amazing, his weight above you, his pelvic bone softly grinding against your clit.

His gaze was intense, his red eyes searching yours as though he was committing every detail of you to memory. “Is this okay?” he murmured, his voice slightly unsteady but laced with that earnest desire to make this everything you needed.

You nodded, tightening your grip on his hand as you arched up to meet him, encouraging him with a whispered, “Yes. Perfect. Just... just like that.”

Viktor’s breath caught again at your words, and he gave another deep thrust. The awkwardness of before was melting away, replaced by a confident rhythm that felt like it belonged to both of you, a dance you shared. Then he shifted his angle, his eyes locked with yours, a small smirk forming as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“Oh God, yes.” The words escaped you, filled with more intensity than you’d meant to reveal, and Viktor’s smirk widened, a hint of cockiness he rarely showed.

“Right here?” he murmured, voice low, almost a whisper, but carrying an edge of satisfaction that made your heart race. His eyes sparkled with a mix of joy and surprise; he’d never been able to do this, and it seemed to fuel his confidence even more.

“Yes—" you gasped, "don’t stop, Viktor. Please.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He adjusted his stance slightly, focusing with the same intensity you’d seen him apply to his work in the lab. But this was different—this was for you, for both of you, and every small movement seemed to bring you both closer together. He lowered his hand to your stomach, his fingers splayed across your skin, feeling how he was sliding in and out of you. It was such a turn-on for both of you, each movement he made was a sweet, relentess tourture.

Your moans and his low groans were probably heard throughout the whole building, but the two of you could not give any damn at the moment. It was all so overwhelming—but you need more and he needs more.

As Viktor’s pace quickened, he held you close, every movement conveying the intensity of his emotions. His strength and confidence were new, almost foreign, but you could sense the tenderness beneath the roughness as he guided you, careful to hold you with an awareness of your limits. The familiar Viktor, who had always been so gentle and cautious, was still there, but now with a bolder edge.

He brought his lips close to your neck, and you felt the slight graze of his fangs, a reminder of how much he had changed—and yet, how much he was still the same. It sent a thrill through you, every nerve alight with the nearness of him, the weight of everything you had both been through together.

“V-Viktor,” you managed, your breath catching as he met your gaze. A flicker of warmth and wonder passed over his expression, and he leaned down to press his lips to the delicate skin of your neck. “I know, love,” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. “Come for me… my beautiful.”

The words wrapped around you, grounding you even as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Instinctively, your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging just enough to feel its softness. Viktor inhaled sharply, his reaction almost instant. The quiet, reserved Viktor you knew seemed to vanish as he let out a soft, breathless moan, his intensity deepening.

You focused on coming, you wanted to come for him, because you know that would send him to spiral to his orgasm.

And so, for a moment, you closed your eyes, just feeling. The feeling of him above you. His hand holding yours. His hand gripping your hips tightly, it would probably leave a mark. His lips on your neck. His breath by your ear. His growls and low moans. His clean sweat coating his and your skin. And his cock, continually and steadily pounding into you.

“That’s it, love. Please, come for me.” his words fell from his lips finally made you come. “Come on, beautiful.”

“Fuck. Viktor—” you cried out as you came. You gripped his arm firmly as he continued to push himself in and out of you, helping himself to orgasm. Not too long you could feel his cock twitch, his pace slowing down, and his hips stuttering in movements.

A low groan and a sharp “fuck” fell from Viktor’s lips. Your hands travel lower to his waist, holding him in place and this made him cum inside you. His cum fills you up, his warmth painting your walls as he whimpered. Fucking hell.

Both of you stopped moving, breathless and warm in each other's embrace, Viktor was still close, his forehead resting against yours as he steadied his breathing. His chest rose and fell against you, and he was clearly spent, you could feel that he was softing inside of you. There was something almost boyish in his expression—an awe that was both endearing and unguarded, showing how new this level of closeness was to him. Tiredly, he pulls out of you, some of his cum dripping out of you. But before it could mess the sheets, he dropped between your legs and licked up his dripping cum. He caught it with his tongue, cleaning you up. Then Viktor slid upward so his lips could meet yours.

He kissed you, his tongue meeting yours and you gently sucked on it, tasting him and yourself.

When the two of you broke the kiss, you opened your eyes and met his gaze. He blinked down at you, his eyes full of wonder, and brushed a few stray strands of hair away from your face. “You’re okay?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability slipping through despite his strength, as if he were still checking in, still hoping this had been as good for you as it had been for him.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound catching between your breaths, and pulled him close again for a soft, lingering kiss. “More than okay,” you murmured, and the sincerity in your words brought a fresh wave of emotion to his face. Viktor’s hands cradled your face as though you were something precious, and the way he looked at you in that moment felt like he was seeing you for the first time all over again.

His fingers brushed over your cheek, and he shook his head with a small, disbelieving laugh, clearly overwhelmed. “I…I can hardly believe this,” he admitted quietly, his voice low and filled with a raw honesty that he rarely allowed himself to show. He hesitated, glancing down at the ring on your finger—a symbol he had once doubted he would ever be able to give you. “Just to think,” he murmured, his voice muffled yet brimming with a sense of awe, “we’re actually getting married.” He settled himself against you, laying his head under your chin, his body relaxed yet holding you as though he were anchoring himself to reality. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and you wrapped your arms around him, savoring the comfort of having him close.

A pang of regret surged through you, and you closed your eyes, guilt flooding your chest. The words slipped out before you could hold them back, a quiet confession. “Viktor…I’m really sorry for earlier. I just… maybe I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Viktor pulled back slightly to look at you, his expression soft yet unreadable. He let out a small, sad chuckle, shaking his head gently. “No, I mean—I understand. Really, I do,” he said softly, and you could tell he meant it. There was no anger, no resentment, only a tender understanding that somehow made your heart ache more. “I’m also terrified of losing you, probably more than you realize. It’s…it’s strange, isn’t it? For so long, I worried about my own health, my own time…how it could slip away. But now, I see all the days ahead, and you’re in every single one of them. I don’t want that to change.”

He paused, his gaze flickering to the ring on your finger, and he swallowed, the vulnerability in his eyes bared fully to you. “If I can have even just some decades with you,” he continued, his voice trembling slightly as he looked at you, “then I’ll take them. I want them more than anything.” The rawness in his tone, the sheer honesty, was something you knew didn’t come easily to him.

You felt a tightness in your throat, a mixture of guilt and overwhelming love that left you speechless for a moment. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours again, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice softer than ever, “I want to have forever with you.”

He wanted forever, but you both knew that wasn’t a promise he could keep, not in the way either of you wished. The reality of it hung between you, a reminder of the time you’d never have enough of.

Your hand reached up to cradle his cheek, and you felt a small tremor beneath your fingers as he held himself there, vulnerable and open. “Viktor…” you started, but words seemed inadequate. How could you explain the doubts that had briefly overtaken you, the fear of holding him back, of being the one he might eventually outlive? You knew it sounded so foolish now, looking into his eyes and seeing only love and certainty.

“I love you so much,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “And I don’t know how to explain what I was thinking tonight. I just… I thought maybe it would be better for you, but—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice firmer this time, his hands coming up to hold your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Please, don’t think that. Don’t even consider it.” His thumb traced over your cheek as he shook his head. “You were never, and could never be, a burden to me. I don’t care if it means facing the inevitable someday. All I know is that I want every moment I can have with you. I want to build a life with you, however much time we get.”

His words washed over you, filling the cracks of doubt you had let grow, and you realized that he had given you exactly what you needed to hear. You hadn’t fully appreciated how deeply he had considered the same fears and still come to the same conclusion, that love was worth every risk.

Viktor’s gaze softened as he noticed the lingering conflict in your expression, the way you seemed caught between joy and guilt. “I just,” he began, his voice gentle as he tilted your chin up to look at him more closely, “you stayed with me, all those times I worried about my own limits… You didn’t leave when things were hardest, even when I didn’t know if I could give you a future. You deserve to feel the same kind of certainty, love.” He paused, the warmth in his eyes growing as he took a deep breath. “That’s why I chose to propose tonight. Not just because I finally could, but because I wanted you to know that it was never a question of ‘if’ but only ‘when.’ You’ve always been my future. Even when I couldn’t imagine living long enough to make it real, I knew it was with you.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you felt yourself soften, the last remnants of your fears melting away in the warmth of his unwavering gaze. How could you have doubted him, even for a moment? Viktor’s love had been as steadfast as the way he looked at you now, and the reality of that truth finally broke through, leaving you without anything but gratitude and love in its place.

With a small laugh, you lifted your hand and you felt his hand move to your ring once again, his fingers brushing over it almost reverently. “I feel like an absolute idiot, you know that?” you said, smiling through the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I was so close to pushing you away when… when this is all I’ve ever wanted.”

Viktor laughed softly, his own smile breaking through as he brushed his lips against your forehead. “Well, lucky for you,” he whispered, his tone light yet full of meaning, “I wouldn’t have let you.”

You chuckled through a shaky breath, still overwhelmed by the sheer warmth of his presence, the way he held you as though he could protect you from everything, including your own fears. The comfort in his touch, his words, his gaze—it was everything you needed and more. He started to press his lips against your neck, his mouth lingering just over your pulse. He could feel the rhythm of your heartbeat—steady, strong, warm against his lips. As he began to kiss the soft skin there, his mind was suddenly flooded with a wave of emotions, raw and unfiltered, emotions he rarely allowed himself to feel this deeply.

Is this…is this how you felt? When you knew that he might not live long enough to see a future with you, had you also felt this way? Had you also been this scared? This terrified of losing him? And if you had felt this—if you had felt even a fraction of this ache he was feeling now—how on earth had you managed to bear it?

He kissed you softly, as if trying to offer an apology he hadn’t known he owed you. His lips brushed over the spot where your pulse throbbed, and he let them linger, feeling the beat of your life under his mouth, grounding him in this moment. He wanted to mark you somehow, to leave a piece of himself with you, a reminder of this love that seemed as vast and endless as the night sky outside. So he kissed you there again, a little more firmly, his lips sucking gently against your skin as he decided to leave a hickey, a token of his love, his need, his presence.

And when he heard you whimper softly under his touch, felt the shiver that ran through you as he sucked on your skin, Viktor felt something break inside him—a fierce, overwhelming wave of love, yes, but also a deeper fear than he’d ever known. A fear he had never fully confronted until now.

How did you bear it, knowing that each day, each moment, could be the last? How did you manage to stay so strong, so unshakable, for him, never once letting him see the worry that must have gnawed at you? He remembered all the times you’d smiled for him, the reassuring words you’d offered whenever he grew too tired or too weak to keep going. You had always been there, unwavering, a source of light in the dark, guiding him forward even when he was ready to give up. And yet, he realized now, you must have felt this fear too—this same terrible, all-consuming fear that clawed at him now.

But you’d hidden it so well. You’d hidden it behind your laughter, your gentle smiles, your touch that had always reassured him when he needed it most. And now, knowing what you must have gone through, he felt a sudden rush of guilt. Had he ever thanked you properly? Had he ever truly understood what you’d given up, how much you’d sacrificed just to stay by his side? He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d taken you for granted, if he’d ever really grasped how strong you’d been, all while he’d been lost in his own struggle.

With a shaky breath, he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching your face as if he could find the answers there, as if he could finally understand everything you had gone through for him. His gaze softened, filled with a tenderness that mirrored the depth of his gratitude and love. He brushed a hand over your cheek, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin, grounding himself in the warmth of you.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, barely above a whisper.

“I know I am.” And he scoffed and then you took his hand, lacing your fingers with his, giving him the same comforting squeeze he’d felt a thousand times before.

“Seriously?” he huffed, eyebrows raised, though the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Here I am, giving you a beautiful, heartfelt compliment, and that’s what you say?”

You grinned, barely able to hold back a laugh. “What can I say? You set the bar high. Just trying to keep up with all these compliments you keep giving me.”

Viktor gave you a look, narrowing his eyes like he was ready to play along with this newfound challenge. “Oh, is that right?” He leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel his breath on your cheek, his voice dropping low, sending a shiver down your spine. “I guess I should stop then. Don’t want to make your ego any bigger than it already is.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Please, like you could resist.”

Viktor chuckled, finally breaking into a smile. He pulled back slightly, looking at you with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. “Well, someone’s confident,” he teased, his eyes sparkling. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Maybe I need to be less generous with my compliments if you’re going to be like this.”

“Really?” you replied, matching his grin with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, really.” He leaned in close, a mischievous glint in his eye as he shifted to kiss you again. But before he could close the distance, you reached up, gently placing a hand against his chest to stop him. His brows knitted in slight confusion, but there was a playful gleam in your eyes that kept him from questioning it.

“Why don’t you put that mouth to work, huh?” you said, your tone challenging, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

A slow, delighted smile spread across Viktor’s face as he took in your words, clearly up for whatever you had in mind. “Is that a request?” he murmured, leaning in just a bit closer.

“More like a demand,” you replied, arching an eyebrow as you gave him a pointed look.

Viktor laughed softly, his gaze warm as he looked down at you. “Well, then,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. “Far be it from me to deny such a demand.”

[ladyelissarose]

———————— ☠️

“Sergeant, you’ve been sitting there for the past 30 mins. Do you seriously think you have that much time to waste?”

Your Lieutenant Simon Riley’s voice was dead yet firm in its tone, being evident that he wasn’t very pleased at the moment.

Placing yourself in his shoes, you’d be upset too, there was a mission coming up and much preparation was still needed, from ‘everyone’ in the team.

Trying to swallow the heavy rock in your throat, you tried to put down the pain of your humiliation from earlier, and replied lowly,

“No sir, but I’m waiting for someone-“

“For 30 minutes? Don’t you think that after 5-10 minutes of waiting it’d be very clear that they’re not coming back for you.”

‘Oh.. but why would they do that? Their supposed to help me-‘

“Sergeant? I asked a question-“

“Yes sir, you’re right. I apologize for wasting time and being delusional.”

With a confident tone you had replied, which was the total opposite of what you were feeling. And though you apologized, you stayed glued to that damned seat, clenching your thighs and the gut wrecking pain that seared from your stomach to your legs- who would’ve thought that period pains would make you feel like you’ve been shot and stabbed?

You bit your lip nervously at the scolding that was to come in a few seconds as you hadn’t moved, and neither had your Lieutenant Ghost, meaning he was waiting for you to move your ass up from the metal chair.

And the longer the seconds passed, you grew more sick and worried, for Ghost wasn’t the most nicest to the newest ones in the team, he was actually very strict and took no excuses from anyone- including you.

Although you haven’t been on that side of him, but you’ve seen it and wouldn’t dare cross that bridge. So far you’ve been one of the best alongside Johnny Soap MacTavish, listening attentively and being the best shot on the job. But now you’re letting a natural cause hold you back, and in shame you couldn’t move or budge.

Not after you were mocked and belittled for it- and it wasn’t even your fault, but of course they all made you feel like it was.

A low gruff was heard above you, and Ghost’s large boots shifted on the ground before he practically barked,

“Well then move Sergeant!? What’d ya eat this morning that was to heavy for you to even get up eh?!”

And to put the cherry on top, when you’re in this abdominal pain, along with your daily sores from the job and stresses, you’re gonna get emotional and teary.

Especially when you knew it could’ve been solved a while ago when you had asked a teammate to help you out, but they had left you out to dry obviously, telling you to stay in that seat while they ran to your barracks to get new pants.

So now you kept your gaze on the ground, refusing to move a bit, not knowing how to explain or hold it all in, until you felt a strong grip on your arm as he lifted you up and spoke in a harsh tone,

“I’ll move you then-“

In panic you grabbed the collar of his vest and held onto the hand that grabbed you as you pleaded with desperate eyes,

“Lieutenant Riley please! Just- please.”

Your bottom lip now quivered a bit, and your eyes frantically searched his, hoping to find mercy in them so he could let you go, but he didn’t. He only locked his cold brown eyes on you, as he tried to read the situation.

That was Simon’s best tactic, he could read people like a book when he wanted to and wasn’t in a bad mood. And once he gave himself the chance to do so, he could clearly tell you were devastated and anguished, as your brows furrowed tightly and your eyes were growing glassy.

In regret at his actions, as he saw your state, Ghost immediately let you go and remembered Soap’s words,

‘Be more understanding of everyone’s situations, you may not always know why they are a certain way.’

He took a deep breath and pat your arm from where he had grasped you, not ignoring the fact how you flinched a bit and a fat tear was wiped away from your cheek by your shoulder. Simon was quick to mumble feeling guilty,

“I’m sorry Sergeant. Didn’t mean to be so harsh-“

“I bled through my pants pretty badly Lieutenant.”

“What?!”

He was ready to check you thinking it was probably an injury, but you instantly grabbed his jaw so he wouldn’t look, and quickly explained,

“It’s not an injury.”

You could see the way his eyes spoke confusion, as he questioned,

“Then what is it Sargeant?”

Your grip on his jaw loosened as you grew shy, realizing how close he was to you, and you grew more conscious of your state. As calmly as you could, you did your best to say the least but enough to understand.

“Please don’t let me say it... I’ve been humiliated enough.”

The gears in his poor head twisted and turned, as he tried to read in between in the lines of your words. He repeated your words in his head, and saw your state-

‘Oh.. OH.’

Ghost sucked in a deep breath and replied his thoughts,

“Oh. Sergeant- ok.. here.”

He quickly shrugged off his jacket, and like a carrying mother, he tied the sleeves around your waist, making sure it covered you were needed. He tapped your waist when he finished and ordered,

“Walk in front of me, let’s take you to your room.”

In a quiet voice you tried to reason, hoping he’d let you go on your own, as you were still a bit embarrassed.

“It’s a long walk Lieutenant- literally across the whole base-“

“Then we’ll go to my office, I have an extra pair of cargo’s.. they adjust to any size-“

He then held your cheek with his gloved palm as he assured you,

“I’m not letting you go on your own, I’ll help you.”

Nodding dumbly because of his sweet gesture, you agreed. And well, that settled it for you, he wasn’t letting you go on your own, so off you went.

Like a guardian angel his broad built covered your smaller form fully, and with a reassuring hand on your shoulder he guided you away to his office.

You felt small in front of his full build, but never insignificant as he treated you like a person, maybe he started off the wrong foot at times, but that’s who Simon Riley was.. he wasn’t used to being all nice and kind. But when he’d find out his mistake he’s pluck it out and make it right ten times more.

In the comfort of his little room, clearly showing he lived there as it smelled like his musky and citrus scent, and the decorations were to a bare minimum (it was actually just the little lamp and a few large bullet casings laid around in different places, like they were posing.

Oh and all the little gum wrapper things you made for him were all resting on his tiny window seal- anyways.. you were safe in his room.

He left you to change in peace after he made you stand in the pants for five more minutes- until you spilled the names of the soldiers that had humiliated you. You really didn’t want to cause them problems, especially with the Lieutenant himself who was stern and harsh.. but he made you understand that it was well deserved anyways.

Now you’re buckling up your fresh pants when you heard the door open and Ghost walk in, his head lowered as he began,

“You good Sergeant?”

Nodding to yourself you replied to him verbally,

“Yes Lieutenant.. thanks. They fit well.”

He took that as your signal of, ‘I’m decent you can look’ so he did, seeing his pants on you. Maybe they did look pretty big on you, but they fit, and were stainless.

Satisfaction with a hint of care in his eyes, he nodded with a soft grunt,

“Alright kid.. Oh and take these… they help with the.. the cramps?”

Smiling a bit at his shy voice coming out and at his attentiveness to what your body was going through, you replied,

“Yes.. the cramps.. thank you.”

“Hmm hmm.. now, be at the shooting range. I’ll be there in 5.”

Worry then crashed, wanting to hit you as you thought about the chance of seeing those soldiers again, but Ghost once again reassured you,

“Don’t worry Sergeant… I got your back. Go on to the range.”

Releasing a breath of relief you sent him a small smile then went, happy and confident to know you had your Lieutenant’s protection. Simon watched you walk away and he felt warmth in his chest, as he was able to provide help and be good to and for you.

Ghost hardly ever practiced shots or trained with you, afraid he’d hurt you or be too stern. But now he was afraid to leave you on your own, and be hurt by someone else. So he figured, you’d be safe and learn well from him, while he’d learn to keep his temper and tolerance in check, as he’d have you in sight.. a win is a win.

[slash-me-please]

Hello! A question: How would the Slashers react to seeing that their partner prepared a dessert with a somewhat sadistic theme? (Context: I saw a video where there is a person who makes a cake with details of a face, and when you cut it juice comes out of the red fruit, he also makes cookies with eyes [Clearly they are not real])

Sorry if my spelling is wrong, but it's because I don't know many English

Slashers Reaction to their S/O Decorative Baking.

A/N: I got inspiration from 3 different tiktoks here. A bit sillier and fluffier than I wanted it to be. Michael's is a bit steamy

Thomas Hewitt

Luda Mae's kitchen is about ten degrees hotter than it usually was. You had dusted off her old gas stove and set it alight, going to town on the limited ingredients the off-the-grid household had collected throughout all the victims. Usually you put together small desserts, cookies, cake, but today you had really thought of an idea. You molded together the dough you had in your hands- pulling at the substance until it slightly resembled the nose bridge of a victim.

The pie was cherry today, tomorrow it could be something else but today it would be cherry. You giggle to yourself, the facial features of an uncanny valley freak of nature decorating your pie crust.

A light tapping breaks you out of your daze, you blink away the concentration to look at your husband. He gives you a concerned look. "I want you to feel like... I'm taking an interest in your hobbies." He turns away for a moment, but he looks back quicker than you would've thought. You wonder what he' s thinking but not for long before he's waiting at the table for you to finish.

Thomas has always wanted a family, a wife, someone to take care of. He forgets the improbabilities when he comes in from a long day of work and he smells your creations.

He thinks you're funny. He watches from behind sometimes; you're focused and locked in on some facepies. You shape each and every nose with love, and he turns his head away from Luda Mae when she briefly questions if maybe- he traumatized her a little bit.

Jason Voorhees

"Jason!" You called him from the other room, ecstatic with your new creation. You shift back and forth on both feet until he finally drags himself into the kitchen area for you to show him your treat. He blinks down at the Pyrex pan you are holding towards him, the red drip of- blood? rolling down- what would seem to be intestines? You still don't have his attention; this is a day job for him. "They're cinnamon rolls!" You beam at him, and that's what gets his attention. He nods with approval, and you begin to make him a plate.

As the two of you settle onto a water-logged, oak dining room set, he lift's his mask and eats at your snack slowly. You watch intently, proud of yourself for the decorating skills- and - for taking care of your boyfriend so well. He finishes up, looking back up at you and never mentioning that he hasn't tasted anything in a few decades.

His mom used to bake for him, she didn't use such... expressive techniques... but you're still appreciated.

Will eat everything you bake, he has no aversion to your decorating, but they don't affect him either way. He's got larger fish to be afraid of, like underage drinking.

Michael Myers

You sit at the dining room table, eyes trained on the wall clock in front of you. 3:17am. Your eyelids droop and you debate throwing in the towel and taking it upstairs for a moment before you finally hear the soft click of your screen door shutting. Michael makes his way into the kitchen, head tilting at the display on your kitchen table. Doll head covered apples? He reaches forward and grabs one off the table. The white chocolate crumbles underneath his fingertips, he looks at it for a moment. You know better than to say anything to him if you actually want him to try it.

He hikes the bottom half of his mask over his mouth, bringing the apple forward to take a bite. You watch, half lidded as he chews and swallows. His mouth upturns slightly and you feel your chest burn with pride. You had spent all day trying to get these right and he liked them. You reached onto the plate and grabbed one for your own, taking a bite and leaning your head back with a pleased moan. "I really outdid myself this time, didn't I?" He takes another bite, licking his lips of the white chocolate specks.

The two of you finish, looking hungrier than before. "What do you want me to make for you next time?" His eyes narrow, pulling the mask back down onto his face. "Maybe a tart?" Your eyes drag down. "Something glazed?"

Biggest sweet tooth ever! This skill of yours has saved you from the blunt edge of a knife quite a few times. There's nothing that keeps him coming home more than the edible arrangement of his favorite body parts you have made up for him.

He relishes in the attention, carefully examining each treat you create for him with precision. You watch him take down whatever you throw at him with such adoration, he tells himself that he only comes back for the food, but he can't help but anticipate the look on your face when you see him enjoy your gifts.

[suw4]

Your Voice

Hinata Shoyo from Haikyuu!!

an/tw: i feel like this isn't my best work but i hope you like it anywaysssssss

Masterlist | Haikyuu!! Masterlist

part1 | part2

Shoyo came running up the stairs towards the rooftop. His boyfriend was waiting for him upstairs to eat lunch together. He was running late due to a mini receiving practice with Sugawara. Once he'd arrived, he saw the [h/c] head sitting quietly on the bench. Looking down to his unopened bento box. Shoyo smiled widely and ran up to him.

"[N/n]!!" he shouted even though the male couldn't hear him. Jumping onto the male and hugged him ever so excitedly. [Name] laughed at his highly energetic boyfriend and hugged him back. "Sorry, I'm late! Sugawara-senpai asked me to stay back for a while for practice," Shoyo signed as he spoke. "It's okay. Shall we eat?" [Name] signed back and the other nodded.

They both happily ate lunch together until Shoyo jolted up, remembering something. He looked at his lover with such determined eyes--mouth full of food. He laid the bento onto his lap and slid himself closer to the other. "I want to introduce you to my team! Is that okay?" he signed excitedly, a smile lingered on his face steadily. [Name] paused, the tip of his chopsticks in his mouth as he stared at Shoyo. He took a couple of minutes to think about it and eventually gave in to his request. He gave Shoyo a subtle nod, along with a small smile. "Why not?" he signed.

Adrenaline rushed through the shorter male's body. He hopped off the bench with his bento in his hands. "Really?! Then, I'll introduce you later during practice. Okay?!" he proposed. This time, he was jumping on the spot. [Name] chuckled, holding Shoyo's hand with his. "Calm down.." he spoke up, words slurring close together, but Shoyo was able to make it out. He retracted his hand and signed, "I can't read your lips if you speak too fast,"

"Oh, sorry!" the decoy quickly apologized by making a gesture of pinching the bridge of his nose, then opened his hand with fingers closed, and he lowered it with a slight bow. He grinned at his boyfriend before hugging the life out of him. He then continued to ramble on about what he had planned for the meet-up.

Soon enough, it was already practice time. Shoyo waited for [Name] outside his class. Bouncing on the spot as excitement filled him. Watching the taller male packing his bag with a huge smile. Once he was ready, he intertwined his hand with the other, dragging the poor boy out towards the volleyball gym.

"Sorry, I'm late!" Shoyo yelled as he slid the gym doors open. Capturing all the attention from everyone in the place. "Oh! Hinata! It's okay!" the silver head third year assured, walking towards the couple. "Who's this? Are you recruiting new members?"

"Oh, no! He can't play. This is my boyfriend, [L.Name] [Name]!" he proudly announced, squeezing the [h/c] head's hand.

The others began crowding around the couple and asking questions. Curious about their relationship and such. While they converse, Kageyama was fiercely observing the boy that Shoyo brought in. The stare was so intense that Tsukishima, who stood not far from him, thought he was planning murder. "Oi, are you going to stare at him until your eyes pop out? Or are you tragically in love with shrimp's partner?"

The setter snapped out of his gaze and glared at the other. "Shut up," he told him off, looking back at [Name]. "I was wondering why he looked familiar," he paused, recalling his memory. "Yukigaoka Junior High's number 7. A middle blocker. One of Hinata's teammates that I played against," he noted, placing his finger on his chin. Tsukishima hummed in response,not really caring much.

Suddenly, the blue haired setter felt chills down his back. He heard a snicker beside him. "Seems like he heard you over all that noise," the blonde gave him a snarky look. Kageyama looked up to see [Name] staring at him like a killer pin pointing his next target. It was a look that he was familiar with. [Name] was the same person who punched his face after the game ended with his team winning against his.

Kageyama grabbed onto the net as he leaned down to Shoyos's height. "What have you been doing for the last three years?" he taunted the shorter male. Unfortunately, [Name] had overheard him, and it prompted him to swing a hard punch towards the blue haired male's face. Yelling and screaming at him while his teammates had to hold him back.

"Who do you think you are to say that, dickhead? Damn asshole! Don't you dare question his abilities!" [Name] continued to scream while glaring at the setter who was holding his nose in great pain while getting off the floor with a couple of his teammates' help.

The middle blocker got kicked out from making such a commotion and inflicting violence on the opponent team. The competition had to be put on hold for a moment.

"Oh! [L.Name], I remember you! You were the middle blocker that played in the Junior High game last year, right?" Daichi asked him. [Name] glanced up and gave him a short nod. "That's right! You were that tall dude who was blocking Kageyama's team like a maniac!"

"Yeah!!! [N/n] was so cool!! I owe him a lot for most of the points we scored!" Shoyo began jogging on the spot, pumped up with energy. "Why isn't he playing volleyball then?" Kageyama's voice dominated over the others. Causing everyone to look at him. Dampening the lively mood that that the decoy created. [Name] nudged his boyfriend's arm, arching a brow. Wanting to know what's happening. "Kageyama wants to know why you aren't continuing playing volleyball," he signed, catching everyone off guard.

"He's deaf," Shoyo turned back to face them while signing it for his lover too. The [h/c] haired sighed softly and crossed him arms. Used to this situation. "Oh, I'm sorry, Hinata. We didn't know. No wonder you kept answering the questions," the captain apologized while bowing at them out of respect. The volleyball club followed along. [Name] read Daichi's lips and showed a smile. "It's okay," he muttered. Easing everyone's guilt. "Yep! [N/n] doesn't mind it! He's very cool!" he let out a light hearted laugh, clinging on to the said male's arm.

"Wahh.. You guys are adorable! [L.Name], why didn't you tell me you are with Hinata?!" Yachi joined in. Trying her best to communicate through whatever she had learnt so far for sign language. [Name]'s eyes widened a little. Touched that she was learning to sign. "Oh? Yachi, you know [N/n]?" Shoyo tilted his head. "Yachi is my classmate, Sho," [Name] replied for the blonde then smiled at her. He was about to sign back but he thought of how difficult it would be for her to understand. So he loosen his bag from his shoulder and took out a notebook and a pen. Writing down what he wanted to say.

"Shoyo is very passionate for volleyball so I let him practice as much as he can. I want to see him be the next Little Giant!" the female first year read out loud. Everyone else was moved by his words. Shoyo looked up at his boyfriend with trembling lips. Falling in love with him all over again. "[N/n]..." he whined.

The day continued on with practice. A singular chair was set for [Name] to sit on and watch. He was mesmerized. He didn't get to see Shoyo play for so long. There was a drastic change with his speed, his skills. Even his jump is higher. He felt chills run down his back. It was thrilling, amazing. So amazing that he was jealous. It wasn't Shoyo that he was jealous of, but his teammates. People around him. He watched the tangerine landed onto the wooden floor after making a good score with his spike. Bouncing around Kageyama. Obviously, he couldn't hear what he's rambling about but he knows that Shoyo was praising the heck out of that boy. He let out a quiet sigh and leaned back against the chair.

Practice has finally ended and [Name] told his partner that he'll wait for him outside. Once he was out, Kiyoko walked up to Shoyo and gave him a light tap. Causing him to stop untying the net. "Oh Shimizu-senpai? Is there something wrong?"

"Hinata, I've noticed that [L.Name] was a little sad when he was watching the match. Is he alright?" the third year question, concerned for the male. "[N/n]..? I'm... not sure. Uh- I'LL LEAVE EARLY TODAY!" he announced loudly, rushing out the gym and straight towards the club room to change. Packing his stuff up and made his way to his boyfriend by the gym doors.

The male stood in front of the other, huffing for air. "[N/n], is something wrong?!" he signed. [Name] was startled a little and tilted his head. "Nothing's wrong? Why the sudden question?"

"Shimizu-senpai was worried about you. She told me you were sad! Did something happened?"

"Nothing happened, really. Should we go home now?" [Name] showed him a reassuring smile. Shoyo frowned a little but hesitantly nodded. The taller male gently grabbed his hand and intertwined with it. Lifting it up to kiss the back of his hand. "Don't worry too much.." he uttered. The other looked down and replied with a simple "Okay," while [Name] guided them forward.

As they walked together, the [h/c] haired couldn't help but reminiscence the moment where Shoyo was ecstatic upon scoring that goal. He could imagine the cheers he shouted. But he could not hear it. Why can't he hear it? Why can't he fucking hear it? He was supposed to remember it!

As the boy was having a breakdown in his head, his steps slowed down. Dragging down the other male too. Shoyo turned around, shocked to see his boyfriend sobbing. Alerted, he moved closer and wiped away [Name]'s tears. "What's wrong, [N/n]. Why are you crying??" he asked whilst cupping the other's face. [Name] replied with slurs of shaky words.

"I-I can't remember y-your voice,"

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. | chapter 23

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: the night of day 163 - also known as the final confession

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - angst, mentions of death, sensuality, levi is sad(tm) but we are finally giving him what he needs! Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

As soon as Captain Levi hauls himself upright on the saddle of his horse, he’s gone.

Like a bat out of hell, his horse takes off towards the direction of the old Survey Corps headquarters.

Dust and dirt from the hasty exit licks at the tip of your boots.

The rest of the Levi squad had only finished settling on their own horses, with you the last to remain on the forest floor.

“He seems eager to get back,” Petra states with a slow apprehension to her tone.

Oluo grunts in reply, and you know.

You can feel his eyes locked onto the back of your skull.

Asking—

What happened between the two of you? 

Why do you remember the outcome of the last mission? 

What aren’t you telling us?

The myriad of questions are not lost on you, because you ask them yourself.

After all, you were barely given a chance to explain.

To understand.

Even before the rest of Levi squad made it to the fall site, the tension between you and Levi was palpable.

The way Levi stared at you, held you, in the aftermath.

Trapped between the before times and what you’ve been reduced to before his very eyes —

“James, are you good?” Gunther asks, softer this time, but it's all white noise.

Figure out if you mean it.

If you really do remember — any of this.

Levi's voice is the only one registering in your mind.

If you think you know me, then say it with your whole damn chest and hold nothing back.

You do. You know him.

Captain Levi.

Child of the Underground.

Captain of the Special Operations Squad.

Though you know him as something else; something profound; something too devastating to lose.

The one who almost got away.

Before you can say a word, your body moves on autopilot: you shove your foot into a worn stirrup and jump up and onto your horse with the reins gripped in both hands.

Snapping them with newfound urgency, you leave the remaining members of your squad behind to bridge the gap between you and Levi.

Go.

Wind sweeps your emerald cloak like wings behind you as you ride, urging you horse faster, faster, faster—

And you inhale.

The more that you breathe, the more that you push yourself forward, your body feels less like a foreign entity. 

Your fingers flex without a detached delay. 

The leather against your palm feels right, like—

…like you’ve finally woken up on the right side of the bed again.

By the time you reach the headquarter courtyard, his midnight horse is already tied to a banister at the stable.

In a rushed dismount from your saddle, your shaking hands hurriedly tie the knot around the same banister and rush towards the open doors.

As you run inside your shoes switch from crunch to click, from dirt to concrete floor.

The sky, once swirling in uncertain grays, opens to a light rain. 

An incoming storm echoes through cavernous hallways, turning grayed stone to black.

Everywhere you look, he isn’t there — the foyer, the rest areas, the abandoned offices —

"C'mon, c'mon..."

As you turn the corner towards the kitchen, your eager ears pick up the leisure pace of two sets of boots.

You move faster, hoping to see that familiar head of raven hair.

To your surprise, you find Hange and Moblit at the very end of the corridor chatting after a meal. 

When they notice your arrival, Moblit gives a little half-smile of recognition while the Section Commander holds out their arms, eager to greet you.

“Hey, hey! She’s back from all the action!” Hange yelps with excitement. “Now tell me, how—”

“Where’s Levi?”

Your sharp question interrupts Hange’s cheerful greeting.

In this light, Hange appears so much clearer to you. Gone is the fuzzy confusion; their outline now just as sharp as their wit and wonder.

(Something like a found safe space, warm and comforting.)

“Levi?” they question. “Huh, I didn’t think he was back.”

So they don’t know yet.

He didn’t say anything.

But he's here, you know he made it back here—

Urgently, you step towards the two.

“I need to know where he is. It’s urgent.”

“Did something happen?” Moblit gently presses.

“I remember,” you state, as if that’ll explain anything. They blink in tandem. “I don’t know how, but it—”

Your hand rises to your mouth, covering it and giving yourself a moment to think.

Except the problem is that you need to say it — thinking, second guessing, slows this down.

Focus.

Your hand drops, and your voice says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Hange — you and I once drank Moblit so horrendously under the table that he was bedridden for two days.” 

Hange’s boot squeaks against the floor in an echo as they stop dead in their tracks. 

“And whenever we meet in the city, Moblit and I order dumplings from that one nice old woman just outside the hospital. I think — you get the most basic order and always make sure to bring something back for Hange.”

Moblit’s eyes shoot wide. “Whoa, that—”

You hold a hand out to placate Hange, who looks like they’re two seconds away from screeching with elation.

“I can’t explain to you know I know all of this, and I don’t have time to figure that out right now. It’s just sort of word-vomiting out of my damn mouth the longer I let myself talk — so I don’t want to stop talking, and I’ll figure out the details and the rest with the two of you later, but it—”

It could disappear at any minute.

You can’t breathe.

It’s so hard to breathe, but do your best to gulp an inhale anyway.

“Please, just… I need – to talk – to Levi.”

Before I forget again.

Before he thinks I’ve forgotten him all over again.

Both Hange and Moblit stare in a haze of surprise.

By the time you open your mouth to plead a third time, Hange holds up a hand. 

Their expression darkens with a seriousness they so rarely possess.

“If he’s not by Erwin’s office or with us, then chances are he’s in his bedroom."

His bedroom.

Relief floods your system.

“Right,” you exhale, jolted by adrenaline. “Thanks, Hange.”

With that, you speed off in the opposite direction.

Up the stairwell.

Down the hallway.

Be here, be here, be here.

Fist raised, you lunge forward towards the wooden door—

Yet the door opens freely, and you’re trapped staring into the eyes of Levi Ackerman.

He blinks away his surprise to that evergreen mask of indifference — resignation? 

There’s no edge to his shoulders. They’re sagged.

Lowering your fist, you’re met with silence. 

(You’ve come to hate silence more than anything.)

So you speak first.

“Can we please—”

“Yeah.”

No pleas heard. No begging to be done.

“Yeah, might as well.”

Levi simply agrees.

The hand gripping the edge pulls the door towards him, conceding with an invitation inside.

Terrified doesn’t even begin to cover it — you push your way through, only to pause when your mind begins to recognize just how familiar this room feels with the light dance of rain outside an open window. 

Everything is so neat. Clean.

(And in the back of your mind, a voice says it’s exactly how you left it.)

The door locks shut, and the rest of the world ceases to exist.

Levi casually walks past you, pulling a chair from his desk and flipping it to face his bed.

He sinks down onto it, knees spread apart while his arm rests casually over the back.

“Start, then.”

His voice is guarded, shortened, as his eyes watch you from under wet, black fringe.

You stare, twisting your fingers around and against each other to self-soothe your nerves.

Your nostrils expand as you muster the courage to speak.

Yet when you do, your voice is smaller.

(So much could go wrong in one single moment.)

“I’ll start, just…"

"Just what?"

"Don’t shut me out.”

His eyes narrow. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

“I know, but this is different,” you argue weakly, wetting your lips.

“Try me,” he flatly goads. “I told you from the beginning—”

“—that you weren’t going to hand us our memories, fuck, I know already,” you bite to chomp off the rest of his statement, tired of hearing him push further distance between you. “Let me talk this bullshit out at you, alright? Not with you — but at you. Because the more I talk, the more things come back — it’s like my fucking unconsciousness is working faster than the rest of my body.”

His jaw clenches, but he says nothing.

When a few moments have passed, you take several steps forward to meet him — but turn to sit on the edge of his bed.

(Like you know belong there.)

He stops moving entirely, brow knit as he watches you descend.

Start, then.

“Before everyone swooped in, I told you that I thought I knew who I was. But… the more time goes by, it isn't a maybe anymore."

Your eyes remain on your hands, noting the calluses and age-old lines of scars across your fingers and palms. 

"And the longer time goes on, the more I talk, it becomes so much clearer."

Remember.

“I never knew my birth mother,” you continue, “not really. As far I know, she died when I was small. A lot of the details are still fuzzy, but some other sick bastard took her place. I think it's so hazy because there’s not much to remember about her. Mother... cared only about winning money."

Lost in your own thoughts, you drop your chin to your chest and exhale.

"I might have had siblings. None of them actually looked like me. They were just... stuck, too. And so many of them died."

All nameless faces.

All battle fodder for the almighty coin.

“I knew that the only way to live was to fight, so I fought. Hard. Every damn day until I couldn't stand on my two feet sometimes. That’s how we met.”

When you lift your eyes to stare him, he doesn’t react.

His nostrils flare in a twitch, but Levi remains in control of himself.

“My mother pit us against each other for money,” you continue softly. “That’s why I kept seeing this small, skinny boy in my dreams at a pub. For weeks, over and over, it was you. I gave you food — I wanted a friend. And…” 

You trail off, chewing on your next words very carefully. 

“And you gave me that. A friend. A chance to join your gang and live a life that was mine.”

Absently, your hand raises from your lap to your neck.

In the hopes of quelling your budding anxiety, your fingertip runs along the delicate silver chain at your sternum.

An old habit that won’t die, even in a state of memory loss.

Yet you catch him, right as it happens:

Levi’s hardened eyes shamelessly drop from yours — to stare at your fingers.

Your fingertip dips and circles the gray gem, mindful of its smooth texture.

Moments pass.

His eyes do not lift.

A familiar warmth spreads through your chest.

“My necklace.”

Then his eyes raise, as if suddenly aware of where he’s staring. 

“You gave it to me, didn’t you?”

You see him in your mind’s eye: a younger version of Levi sitting there, embarrassed to be offering such a delicate, sentimental gift to another person.

His gangly, teenage self overlaps the exhausted, battle-worn Levi across from you in his chair.

Both fighting.

Both surviving.

You feel so small as you try to remember the finite detail. Hitting a wall the longer the silence stretches, you're unable to pinpoint the exact memory.

Your nose scrunches in frustration, searching for that train of thought like a life line. 

“It was for my fifteenth— No, maybe my seventeenth—”

“Eighteenth.”

His voice is barely a murmur. 

Levi’s eyes do not leave your face.

“It was your eighteenth birthday.”

He manages to capture the memory eluding you before it can float away and dissolve to the wind.

A smile loaded with relief passes your lips.

It’s only a small nudge in the right direction, but it’s all you need for the memory to blossom like a flower on the surface in Spring.

The image of yesteryear blooms— 

White, billowing sleeves rolled to his elbows.

A cinched vest kept his clothes from flying off his small frame.

“With a lot of alcohol.”

“Yeah.”

“And a lot of extra cleaning the next morning.”

He exhales, slow and drawn out. “Something like that.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, emotions overwhelming you.

“Ever since Hange gave the necklace back to me, I can’t help but touch it any time I feel stressed or panicked. It’s like all of those bad feelings, they… go away. Disappear like the way titans do.”

Worries, gone like ash.

A ghostlike sensation runs against your lips, forcing you to reach and run along their seam.

Even if it's far away, you see it: a tilted head; black fringe.

Even now, you feel it: his lips so close; eyes wandering; the loss of reason.

“And you… you kissed me that day.”

Your first.

Both of your firsts.

When you smile, you notice then: his knuckles against the back of the chair turn translucent white.

“Wrong,” the captain tightly states.

Wait.

You freeze, fear settling in your belly.

“What?” you question. “But... but you did.”

He’s gripping the wooden backing so hard it could snap.

“I didn’t,” he forces out. “...you kissed me.”

Oh.

Oh. 

He’s not shutting you out.

Elation sweeps over your mind like a soothing balm as memories of pawing hands and inexperienced desire enters the forefront—

Finally clear as day.

Do you regret it, his voice whispers in the abyss.

“I never regretted that,” you reassure him, like you can finally answer him with absolute honesty. “Though technically you leaned in, and I ran with it.”

He huffs in disbelief. "Yeah?"

You smile with certainty. "Yeah."

Kisses between you two were just the tip of the iceberg. You know that now. 

You’ve seen it, felt it, tasted it—

In this very bedroom.

After a pause, the captain’s voice comes out strained.

“Of all the damn memories, that’s the one that stands out?”

You can’t help but huff with exhausted amusement.

“It isn’t the only one," you reply. "There are a million fragments I’m still piecing together and not everything makes sense, but there are some things that are just so vivid to me now. like…”

“Like?”

“Like our friends.”

Emotion flickers across his expression as he sits up further.

It’s like he’s been waiting to hear the names of your deceased comrades on your lips.

“You remember—”

“Isabel,” you whisper. “And Furlan. Yeah, it’s… bits and pieces just like everything else, but we grew up with them. I remember how we'd all spend hours zipping around that damn stolen ODM gear like we owned the joint. Somehow four kids managed to make an entire home in the Underground. And I wasn’t — I couldn’t be there when they—”

Profound sadness hits you like a ton of bricks, clipping your words.

I couldn't be there when they died.

The picture isn't complete, but you remember the sinking feeling in your belly when he had told you. So much time had gone by — you can vaguely pick out Isabel's wild red hair and recall thinking maybe the sun looked just like that. Furlan's infectious, warm laugh echoes in the back of your mind.

And you nearly joined them as a memory.

(No wonder why Levi was so angry with you at the start of it all.)

The rain continues to tap against the stone walls outside as another stretch of silence befalls the room.

One of Levi’s hands reaches for his face and runs down the length of it, tugging the skin as he goes.

His eyes drop to the floor, his dampened fringe shielding them from view.

“Un-fucking-believable…”

Your brow furrows.

“What?”

“This.”

That same hand sweeps a frustrated gesture between the two of you.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” he grunts. “You hit your goddamn head almost a year ago and — and you nearly did the same fucking thing again today, and you’re telling me that’s all it took to suddenly wake you up?”

The harshness of his words cause you to rear your head back. 

Hange nearly ran to you with open arms when you told them you remembered.

You had thought perhaps Levi would do the same once you had proven your mind to him.

Yet he’s reluctant.

Angry.

“That isn’t what I’m saying,” you retort, narrowing your gaze. “I tried telling you months ago that my memories were fragmented, but you didn’t want to hear it. What, were you hoping I wouldn’t remember?”

Instantly his eyes are back on you. “I didn’t say that.”

“It sure feels like that, Levi,” you snip. “Was it because of our fight?”

The whites of his eyes explode.

“Our what?”

“Before we went on the last expedition,” you clarify under your breath. “When you tried sidelining me with counsel to Erwin. I asked you why you didn’t trust me to fight at your side, but it wasn’t that you didn’t trust me.”

What is the excuse you always, always, use?

It was such a vicious question in the heat of the moment.

Levi doesn’t hide his surprise this time.

Although he doesn’t answer your question, you can see it:

The same turmoil that pushed him to the brink of shouting, coming back to haunt him.

Because if I lose you this time, then that’s it!

The rattle of the storm increases in volume right outside his open window, billowing the sheer curtains from the wall.

You promised.

You promised him so many things that day.

Nothing will happen to me.

I’m not going anywhere.

“I won’t die on you, right?” you say to yourself, as if in a daze — trapped between the present and the past. “Because if I did, you’d drag my ass from Hell yourself.”

His face twists, contorts in pain, only for a second.

He catches himself at the precipice before he can truly react, swallowing it down—

And then it hits.

You understand what he isn't saying.

“You haven't stopped blaming yourself,” you realize out loud in a bewildered whisper. “Even after saving my ass a second time, you're still holding onto that guilt like it was a choice you had made instead of me.”

You stand abruptly from the bed and cross the room towards him.

Levi immediately jumps out of his chair like a cat that’s been dunked in water, terrified you’ll push him back under.

No matter how compelled you are to be near him, he repels. 

“It wasn't your fault,” you urge, softer this time. “Look at me. Levi — it wasn't your fault.”

His bluish-gray eyes narrow in defense. “Don’t start this—”

“When I fell—”

“No.”

“Levi,” you chastise. “You said we could talk.”

“I did,” he hotly retorts. “Not about that day.”

The air in the room shifts.

“Anything but that day,” he repeats, softer this time. “Please. I just —”

Struggling with what he wishes to say, his chin drops to his chest.

“...despite all my best efforts, despite whatever plans I put in place, I watched you fall in the same shitty forest not once, but twice, like it's a sick fucking dream I get to repeat over and over until I learn.”

All of your facial muscles smooth with sadness. “Except there wasn't anything to learn because you did nothing wrong. Levi, you caught me.”

“But not the first time,” he says simply. “Not when it mattered.”

The way he speaks about himself…

Humanity’s Strongest, reduced to one perceived failure, as if he could rewrite history and control your mistakes. 

Timidly you slide a boot forward, testing his resolve. 

Levi doesn’t move. His head remains bowed.

“You have spent months punishing yourself for something that I chose to do,” you urge under your breath in a damn-near plea. “What is it that Erwin tells us to do? Dedicate our hearts?"

"Don't use that shit against me, James," he warns.

Raising your hands in surrender, you shake your head wildly. "I'm not. Believe me, I'm not, but you need to understand it was my choice. I wanted to save the others. I wanted my life to matter."

You see his jaw clench like he's forcing himself to hold back what he wants to say.

You step another boot forward.

"Six months ago when I first saw you in that hospital wing in Trost, when you tried to rile me up, it was—”

“An error in judgment," he interrupts.

“Exactly what I needed,” you finish over him. 

His head lifts. 

You meet, eye to eye.

“I couldn’t understand why I was so transfixed by you,” you continue softly with the utmost sincerity, hoping he will hear you out. “You walked out of that room and all I wanted was to know you. To understand you, like you held this invisible key this entire time that could unlock whatever the hell it was that I was missing. But all you ever did was pull away from me, hide from me, trying to convince me you were some villain in my life—”

“James.” 

Abruptly Levi steps forward as if ready to walk straight through you—

—like you’re nothing but a ghost’s apparition.

Instead he is met with living, breathing warmth. 

Your eyes can’t leave when his breath tickles the skin of your face.

Levi stares back, entranced by the color of your eyes.

Infected, plagued, by the reality that stands before you both.

One false move, and it’ll be a repeat of the conversation in the tree tops that made him retreat.

“I have tried to keep you safe almost my entire life," Levi murmurs, and you can practically feel the vibrations of his voice rocking through your body.

“And you did.”

“I didn’t.”

“Levi, you—”

“I pushed you into danger—”

“Pushed?”

“—and I am sorry—”

Your hand shoots out, turning his cheek to look you dead in the eye. 

“Stop it.”

Levi freezes, looking so much more uncertain now that he did ten minutes ago.

“Stop," you repeat with exasperation. “You're not listening to me. I'm here. I'm right here.”

He swallows to coat his throat, motion thick. His neck bobs.

"I don't know how else to convince you it isn't a fluke," you continue, voice cracking. "You won't let yourself see me. You won't let yourself believe I'm not dead. Levi—"

And just when you think you’ve lost him—

He turns towards the warmth.

His cheek nuzzles your open palm, eyes wearily slipping shut, as if helpless to do so.

You’re holding the first face you remember and the last face you’ve seen —

The partner you left in the forest so long ago.

The man that wants more than he’ll ever allow himself to take.

Levi's confession is barely audible:

“...I don't want it to be too good to be true again."

The floorboard creaks as his foot shifts towards you, angling himself towards you. 

He inhales slowly through his nose, relishing in a private thought, before shaking his head. His hair nearly tickles your forehead.

When he doesn't open his eyes, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

If he won't see you—

Slowly, cautiously, you reach for his hand until yours curls over it.

At first his fingers flinch in your grasp, his blue-gray eyes snapping wide to watch.

Then eventually they relax, surrendering.

Higher and higher, you skim it past your ribcage and pull it up to your left breast. 

His arm tenses, eyes shooting wide. 

You remain relaxed. Focused.

“What is it you feel?” 

“I don’t under—” 

“Just… pause, for once in your life, and tell me what it is you feel.” 

You press his palm harder against your chest, your heart hammering beneath your skin. 

“Please.”

Albeit apprehensive, Levi doesn’t move away. 

His eyes dart to your lips, your sternum, until they lock onto your joined hands.

“You.”

Strained — he chokes on his response.

“I feel… you.”

As if pulled by gravity Levi steadily leans closer, brushing your nose with his.

His jaw clenches, the muscles taut in his mouth, before his palm flattens of his volition against your chest.

Your eyes flutter, relishing in his proximity.

You turn to him, seeking out his body heat.

For the first time in months, you feel it with such certainty.

Familiarity.

His free hand rises to your cheek, cupping the side of your face.

You suck in a sharp breath between parted lips, and he makes a small noise like he’s agonized over being apart from you.

“Every time that I’ve been given the choice, I always choose you,” you confess softly, a mere whisper. “I run right towards you even when I don’t know you. You are the only thing that has ever made sense to me in this world.”

There — you memorize the slide of his calloused palm, running gently along the height of your cheekbone.

Slow, as if mesmerized by your skin’s softness.

Shakily, you continue and choose the point of no return.

“Tell me you don't want me anymore, and I’ll stop running to you. If I have somehow misjudged you and what you might still feel—”

“Say it.”

Levi’s voice engulfs you — the heavy baritone, barely touching your lips.

His expression darkens like he wrestles with two separate trains of thought.

Conflict etched in his brow, he swallows once more and speaks with a tenderness you only remember in dreams.

“Say you remember me.”

After all this time, you've waited for the puzzle to connect.

The pieces that were once scattered now sew themselves together; anew.

He asks without asking.

You answer without uncertainty.

“I remember you.”

As if mesmerized by the curves of your body, Levi’s hand glides from your chest up your throat—

Until his fingers cradle the back of your head.

His other hand remains on the side of your face, holding you as though you could turn into water at any moment.

"Say it again."

You don't hesitate to obey his command.

"I remember you."

To make your point, you turn your chin into his hand — eyes locked — to press a gentle kiss to his palm.

He nearly hisses from the physical contact.

"Again."

Levi's breath slides into your mouth like a phantom kiss of his own.

(Touch starved after so many months apart.)

“I remember you, Levi Ackerman. I remember you, I remember you, I remember—”

You stop talking when he leans in, lips barely brushing yours. 

Your breath halts. 

His is ragged. Soft.

Then he speaks, as if to pray after a long night of war:

“Dirty trick."

That’s all it takes.

Levi reaches out whip-fast, using the palm against your skull to pull you into a searing, life-altering, mind-numbing kiss. 

You go pliant against him, melting like candle wax, willing to take anything he’ll give.

Lips press and pull, his breath hot on your tongue.

His hands search you as if he doesn't know where to touch first — your face, your neck, your shoulder — until he decides to loop his forearm at the small of your back to dip and lift you without ever breaking the kiss.

You jump until your knees bracket his hips, and he pulls you flush to his body.

Levi hastily kicks the chair out of his way to carry you directly to his bed.

And after all this time, you feel it — know it — remember it.

The absence dissipates.

The world finally starts to turn.

You have found your way home.

.

author's note:

...hehe. So how are we feeling, Levi Nation? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for your patience as I took a little break this summer to write some modern!Levi with Press Four for More Options. To readers old and new, I am so grateful for your encouragement and support. (Every reblog gives this writer wings.)

[hurdy-girly]

Bruce sat in front of the bat computer, pinching the bridge of his nose. A dead end.

Again.

He’d been on this case for weeks now. He’d found a hundred leads, and every one had led to less answers and more questions. He could probably make a sweater with all the grey hairs he’d been getting, and his hairdresser could probably buy a bike off of the dye costs alone.

He was the greatest detective in the world. And yet he had no clue who this guy was.

He really only had his instincts to thank for him noticing Tim approaching. If it weren’t for his frankly absurd levels of over preparation over the years he would have jumped out of his seat when the boy leaned over him to squint at the screen.

“Hey B.”

Tim sat down next to him. His body language was relaxed and casual, but Bruce didn’t miss the glint of concern in his eyes.

“Hey Tim.”

Bruce opened a new folder. All of them were starting to look the same.

“…this case is giving you a lot of trouble, huh?” Tim looked at the screen, glancing over the text. Bruce had missed so many dinners that he was pretty sure Alfred was going to drug him to drag him to the one tonight. He wasn’t surprised his children had picked up on it, too. “Do you need a second opinion?”

Bruce bristled a bit before meeting Tim’s eye. But Tim was just concerned. Not judgmental.

Bruce wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to his kids being that gracious with him. Or with anyone being like that.

“…it may be helpful.” Tim seemed surprised at Bruce’s admission. “Especially because all of this happened while I was… gone.”

“Oh.” Tim grew silent. The two had discussed the events and effects of Bruce’s disappearance into the time stream before, but it was still a tough topic between them. Between everyone. “…so. What’s the deal?”

Bruce sighed, pulling up his original files. “While I was gone, this person appeared. His case would be unalarming, but… this guy was everywhere. Tens of countries, none of them legally, all within the span of a few months. He ended up on several government wanted lists. He seemed to be everywhere. So many organizations locked onto him, but he just… kept getting away. No one could track him down, and… I’m starting to think I can’t either.”

Tim frowned, scooting closer to the screen. “And we didn’t look into this guy sooner?”

Bruce shook his head. “He seemed to slip through the cracks. But this guy… he got places no one should have been. My current working theory is that he’s a meta, or some sort of magical entity. I’m considering sending John some of this to get his opinion.”

Tim blinked. “That bad, huh? What’s this guy’s name?”

Bruce sighed. “I’m not sure. There were a couple I found, and I’m not sure if any of them are even the true name. There was one that got noted down a bit more often than the rest.”

Bruce pulled up his first document.

“Alvin Draper.”

Tim fell very quiet.

Bruce looked over at him. A bit of worry hit him. Had Tim met this guy before? Why hadn’t he said anything? Was everything alright?

Who was this guy?

“Okay, B? I’m gonna hold your hand while I say this.”

[wileys-russo]

ignorance is bliss ficlet II l.williamson x reader

my angry cinnamon roll gf’s 🤭

feel free to read the proper full fic that this is a spin off from here

ignorance is bliss ficlet II l.williamson x reader

"did she say she wasn't coming?" lia asked again with a frown as you shrugged hopelessly, just as clueless to your girlfriends absence from training as the rest of the team, leah now almost an hour late and not answering anyone's calls.

"no she was already up and getting ready when i left, she seemed fine?" you explained, having left before your girlfriend to get a coffee with lotte who had then driven the two of you to training, leahs unusual absence causing a pit of worry to form in the bottom of your stomach.

"oh thank god here she is hold on.” you breathed a sigh of relief as her contact flashed on your screen.

“may i please be excused quickly jonas? its leah." you asked softly, wincing as you interrupted the briefing and felt everyone’s eyes watching on as you hurried out of the room, accepting the call.

"leah where the hell are you? you're late and you're never late! in fact you are always on my case about making us late to things." you rambled, stepping outside and holding the phone to your ear.

"yeah uh, i sort of…ran into some car trouble on the way there." leah replied in a strange tone of voice making you frown. "car trouble? whats happened? are you alright?" you questioned quickly with growing concern, leaning against the wall behind you as your mind raced with all the worst case scenarios.

"well..." leah trailed off and you waited patiently for an answer but there wasn't one. "well? just spit it out lee, as long as you're safe we can fix whatever happened, a car is only something material babe." you assured her softly, feeling your chest tighten with nerves at her obvious hesitation to come clean.

"no no it wasn't an accident or anything I um, well I-" leah danced around her words and you felt your patience thinning, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

"isortoflostmylicensecauseigotdonespeedingagainandineedyoutocomeandpickmeup." your girlfriend word vomited so fast you couldn't make out a single word of what she was saying. "what? slower please lee." you pinched at the bridge of your nose, exhaling deeply.

"i sort of lost my license cause i got done speeding again and i need you to come and pick me up…please." leah repeated and your eyes widened as you finally understood, the silence on your side of the line causing leahs stomach to twist into knots.

"please don't be mad i know you're always onto me about it and i really think this is the thing i needed to learn my lesson but- hey are you laughing at me?" leah frowned as you doubled over, resting a hand on your knee as you were indeed laughing at the predicement.

"oi its not funny! i can't drive for three months now!" leah shouted and you could almost hear the stroppy pout which would be forming on the older girls lips.

"it is funny because i did in fact warn you of this time and time again and you never listened. i told you so!" you sung out with a grin, leah somewhat relieved you weren't upset with her but also not appreciating that your amusement was at her expense.

"too bad i wasn't there to flirt your way out of it huh?" you smiled smugly, rewarded with an annoyed huff and a half understood grumbled insult.

"sorry what was that? you're going to walk to training? wonderful i'll see you soon!" you teased, leah yelling out a hasty apology and practically begging you not hang up, something which was more than rare from your normally over confident girlfriend.

"please come get me! i'm stranded and it's really embarrassing, what if someone recognises me?" leah whined and you rolled your eyes that of course that was her biggest concern right now.

"why don't you just sit in the car then while you wait?" you sighed with a small smile, the silence on the other end telling you all you needed to know.

"oh leah....you didn't. not again!" "stop leah'ing me, you sound like my mum!" "oh i can't wait to tell your mum about this." "don't you fucking dare!"

this was not a one off occasion. leah determined to buy the most tricked out car she could had spared no expense on the bells and whistles, though one of these had time and time again meant she’d locked her keys inside the insanely posh vehicle.

"baby i warned you when you bought that stupidly expensive car that the self locking feature would bite you in the ass." "now is so not the time for an i told you so. just come and pick me up!" "come pick you up..." "right now?" "leah!" "sorry. please please please come pick me up gorgeous. i love you?"

"i'll get someone to drive me now. you know you could just get an uber leah." "what did i say about leah'ing me!" ~

"there she is." you pointed out your girlfriend with a grin as katie slowed down a little, leah sat on the curb with her hoodie pulled over her head, clearly attempting to hide herself but the glaringly obvious red and blue arsenal tracksuit did her no favors.

"she looks like that kid who runs away from home gets about five minutes down the road and calls for their parents to come pick them up!" beth laughed at your girlfriends sour expression as you pulled beside her, though you'd note that to the others in the back all pointing and teasing her.

"you had to bring a crowd?" leah grumbled, standing to her feet and crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at beth and laura in the back who were pulling faces at her.

"what’s to say other than we all just had to witness the miracle for ourselves!" katie beamed as you leaned over and whispered something quickly in her ear, the irish woman nodding subtly with a smirk.

"go on then speed demon in ya hop!" katie teased, leah reaching for the door handle as she suddenly jerked the car forward and away from her, the four of you grinning as leahs jaw tightened.

“come on leah, in we get!” laura called out much like you would encourage a dog to return to its owner, which was not lost on leah who gave the younger girl a frighteningly filthy look.

"come on woman we haven't got all day you know!" beth tapped at her wrist mocking the time as once again leah reached for the door and katie moved the car forward slightly, sending the four of you into hysterics like naughty school kids at the back of the bus.

"nah you know what fuck this! i'm walking." your girlfriend fumed, kicking at the back of katies car and storming off down the road. you were quick to unbuckle yourself, jumping out and racing off after her as the girls all called out for her to get in the car.

"baby, get in the car." you grabbed her hand, looking at her with an amused smile as the taller blonde simply glared back at you wordlessly as you wrapped yourself around her in a hug, her arms remaining stoic by her side as she refused to engage in it.

"relax the face, relax the face." you cooed sarcastically and stroked at her forehead and cheeks trying to smooth away the deep frown lines as the defender smacked your hands away but you saw a hint of a smile grace her features as you stole a quick kiss and tugged her back with you towards the car.

leahs frown deepened as she was met with slow claps and she slid in the back beside laura, flipping them all off and sinking down into her seat.

"good news mccabe. as my work wife you have now been promoted and unlocked a new daily task. driving us to training!" you grinned as the irish woman rolled her eyes playfully.

"only if you caress my thigh and hold my hand like you do with blondie darlin." katie smirked at leah through the rear view mirror as you agreed, reaching out to accept her offered hand, intertwing your digits over the middle console.

"mccabe if you'd like to ever walk again i'd suggest you not touch her, or else i may have to accidentally studs up tackle you in every single drill." leah warned seriously, katie only grinning and bringing your intertwined hands up to her mouth, kissing your knuckles as you sarcastically swooned and leah huffed.

"now now don't worry, i'm sure vivs happy to share." beth teased, holding her hand up toward leah expecting her to kiss it as the blonde simply shot her a murderous look and smacked it away.

this was going to be a long three months.