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weskie · 4 months ago

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Lover, Leader, Liar [Savior, Sinner] - (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

2.4k words | pining, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, the arklay incident, flashbacks, s.t.a.r.s era | Fic Directory

when wesker makes a promise, he keeps it. even if it hurts.

The clock was quite literally ticking. Every second wasted was a second closer to the inevitable blast. But there was a… variable that he hadn’t considered. A scream, a stumble in the room above just barely loud enough to hear over the sharp bang of each discharged round. If it were anyone else…

But it isn’t, so he bolts. Shoves through body after body, practically leaping halfway up the stairs. His boots fall quick and heavy and the door separating him from you is no match. He rams into it and breaks it clean off the hinges, and there he finds a sickening scene.

That lumbering beast is upon you, trapping you in the corner of the room while you tremble and shake, clambering back until you’ve nowhere else to go. The slide of your gun is locked open. You’d spent your entire magazine on her, surely. Poor thing. Of course you wouldn’t know.

Your eyes flicker to him, blown wide with raw terror. You’d been afraid since the moment Alpha Team touched down in the woods, though you'd tried your best to hide it. The last time he saw you, Wesker had to rest a hand on your shoulder and reassure you that everything would be okay. No one else would die. You wouldn’t die. Not under his command. Not if he had anything to say about it.

Such is the promise he’s chosen to keep.

He draws his gun at lightning speed and unloads three rounds into Lisa Trevor’s back. She stumbles toward you but whirls around to face her assailant. Damn thing had been stalking him since he rose from the dead, so what was a little more time to tango? Lisa wails at him, lumbering forward, which gives you enough time to crawl under a desk and run to him. He’s almost resentful that you can’t quite match the pace of his sprint, but, so long as your hand is in his, you will not perish to that creature.

Your frantic breaths and the warmth of your touch are his purpose as he mows down beast after beast. Hunters, dogs, zombies… it makes no difference. The two of you must be out of here before time runs out. There’s no time for your blubbering about the blood splattered all over his body from the wound that no longer exists. There’s no time for your sputtering when he shoves another gun in your hands, nor any for your hesitation when Lisa reappears and blocks your exit.

He fights tooth and nail. When that chandelier comes down, impaling and trapping her, Wesker hoists you onto his back and takes off as fast as he can. It would not do to have you running after him. Even hand in hand, you wouldn’t be able to make it far enough with what little time remains. But now, with his new abilities, you’re no more than a mere feather. Not even the death grip you hold around his shoulders phases him.

You whimper at the deafening boom. He lowers you behind a thick tree and huddles close, pressing you against the trunk, taking cover against the shockwave that pulses through the forest.

“C-Captain…”

He finds you staring, tears rimming your eyes. Could be any number of reasons you were on the brink of crying. He’d wager it was, well… everything. From finding Bravo Team’s bodies to your first encounter with the living dead, to nearly having your skull shattered by Lisa’s devastating strength, all the way to outrunning enough explosives to leave a crater in place of the mansion. Your lower lip trembles.

The sight of you calls him back to the night before this whole debacle began. You’d brought him coffee and dinner from the beat up diner down the road. You mentioned how nervous you were to find out who the perpetrators were of the string of murders plaguing the area. It wasn’t uncommon for you to visit his office. In fact, your relationship had been inching further and further away from purely professional and more toward… well, whatever it was going to be. Part of him always wanted to cave to those feelings brewing in his chest, but he knew better. Or, at least, he thought he did. Truth be told, your odds of surviving the manor had been slim to none and he was going into the situation nearly certain no one would make it out. He’d been incredibly tempted to fire you just to keep you alive… Words could never describe the regret he felt when the day came that it was too late.

But, then again, you could be like this because you knew that he was in on it.

Cold, shaking hands land on his forearms. “Captain… your eyes…” You whisper shakily. Not what he was expecting. A nice right hook would’ve made more sense than the way you pat him down, searching for injuries. He all but fully flinches when your fingertips graze his exposed abdomen.

“That’s not necessary,” Wesker says, pushing your hands away.

He grazes your fingers with his. A big stack of paperwork filled out perfectly, just the way he’d asked. “Thank you,” he hums. Pink tinges your cheeks and a smile settles right in. You feel it too, then?

“W-Were you hurt?”

Softness drapes over his shoulders. He’s barely conscious, far too exhausted from his two-day stint without sleep to open his eyes. There’s a soft clicking noise and the high pitched, barely-there buzz of the computer monitor ceases. He knows it’s you. Only you would do this. Only you would take care of him this way…

“I was.” He says, turning, still hand in hand with you, to walk away. “Best not to waste any more time.” Every three-letter agency in the world would be finding its way to the scene in no time. Moreover, with the rest of Alpha-Team knowing of his involvement, said agencies would be beating down the door to his home within the day. There was little to gather, but he certainly needed to stop there before disappearing. “Come.”

It took many miles on foot before stumbling upon a residence with a perfectly procurable vehicle, and the drive back to Raccoon City had been tense. You were still on edge, obviously. It’s when he leads you to sit on the edge of his bed– he can’t let you out of his sight– as he gathers documents and necessities that you finally lean forward, hand over your eyes, and bite back your weak cries.

“D-Did you really… You knew?” You sputter. “You knew, and you just let us walk in there?”

Wesker holds your gaze as he strips his ruined vest, uniform button-up, and undershirt away. Can’t sport the S.T.A.R.S logo anymore. Not that he even wanted to. “Yes.” He says, tugging a black sweater over his head. He expected you to run. He’s unsure why you haven’t tried. At first he thought it was shock. Perhaps you had been too shaken to consider it an option, but you’d calmed significantly during the drive and now…?

“You don’t have to stay late.” He tells you, standing halfway in the doorway to his office. Everyone else went home hours ago.

“I know,” you say, looking up at him from your screen. “I want to.”

He catches sight of his eyes in the mirror mounted beside his closet door. Ocular mutations weren’t uncommon, but it would be one that he must hide from time to time. Suppose, though, that it was simply solved with a new pair of sunglasses.

Wesker snags the duffel bag he’d prepared before the mission.

“– why did you save me?” He’d been tuning out your sorrowful rantings, but there could be no ignoring the weak sob that preceded such a difficult question. Why indeed…

His doorbell rings, jarring him from his focused writings. He opens it to find you, tupperware container in hand, with your eyes practically sparkling.

“Hi– sorry! I was just coming back from the little birthday lunch we did for Jill and I–” You hold the container out for him. “I dunno, I just thought you’d maybe like some cake?”

He regards you with amusement for a moment. He’s only seen you in normal clothes a handful of times, usually if you were stopping into the precinct on your day off, but it never failed to tickle some small, cold part of his heart. In turn, he knows this is the first time you’ve seen him out of uniform. He’s dressed down, sporting a sweater and jeans, signature glasses left elsewhere. He quite likes the way you try to hide your wandering eyes.

Wesker takes the container and gives you a soft, grateful smile. Part of him feels that he should invite you in and offer you something– coffee, perhaps. Engage in the rules of reciprocity drilled into his head with every etiquette class required in his schooling years.

“Would you like to come in?” The smile on your face is all he needs. “You’ve brought quite a large piece. I might need some help with it.”

“You could’ve left me there!” You’ve got him by the shirt now, wet eyes boring into his. “You brought us there to die, so why didn’t you leave me!?”

He clamps a palm over your mouth, spins, and presses you to the wall.

The chime to the flower shop signals his arrival. He towers over the old woman tending the plants as he explains to her his need.

“The most elaborate bouquet you can make for a grief-stricken recipient,” he says. “Price is no object.”

The moment he picked up that phone and you explained your need for time off through poorly suppressed sobs, he was already sure of where he’d be headed on his lunch break. Your parents, you’d said. A head on collision with a drunk driver. It was believed they died on impact, but such a mercy didn’t quell your sobs. Frankly, nothing could except for time’s power to numb the pain.

Wesker has no family to mourn. No parents, no siblings. As an orphaned boy in boarding school, he’d done his crying when the others would leave to spend the holidays with their family. He can’t quite fathom the grief you feel at losing your only family, but this? He can do this.

“What would you like the card signature to say?” Asks the old woman as she scribbles her notes.

He contemplates for a moment, weighing his options. But he knows, deep down, the best and worst possible options are one and the same.

“With love,” he recites. “Albert Wesker.”

“You have two choices,” he tells you. Wesker shows extra care to ensure the hand covering your mouth does nothing more than silence you. You need not suffer any more pain. “The first: I leave you behind. You answer questions for every agency under the sun and hole up in your apartment while you wake, alone and afraid, every night when your dreams bring you back there. Just to spend every day adrift in a city that, I assure you, is doomed for worse than the mansion.”

Your eyes widen at his prophecy, but it’s the truth. Birkin would be continuing operations in the area and, frankly, bad things come in threes. Between the manor and the train, more was bound to happen. You could choose to stay, or…

“Or you can come with me, where you need not be alone.”

You hugged him as if your life depended on it when he showed up at your door. The flowers had arrived earlier, delivered by the seller as instructed. The crickets sing their song as he holds you, right hand rubbing between your shoulders while you hide your face against his chest.

“Thank you, Captain.” You murmur into his shirt. You look destroyed. His heart lurches for you, practically desperate to burst from his chest and engulf you in whatever crevice within it craves you so badly.

“Albert is fine. We’re not at work.”

You invited him in. Showed him where you put the extravagant floral arrangement he’d sent. Eventually, minutes of conversation turned to hours, and hours turned to the sun tickling at his eyelids, rousing him from the upright position he’d slumbered in upon your couch. Your head rests on his blanket covered lap while you get your much needed sleep. All because you asked that he stay. You didn’t want to be alone.

“After everything we’ve been through, I won’t simply leave you alone.” Fresh tears brim in your eyes and he removes his palm, letting it trail down and rest against the side of your neck. “Come with me.” Wesker urges. “Let me keep you safe. Don’t go down with the others…”

The conflict in your eyes coupled with your lack of response devastates him more than you’d ever know. He turns, grabs his bag, and makes his way through the humid nighttime air to the car. He grips the wheel tight enough to crush indentations into it. He waits.

And waits.

He should’ve known it was only a pipe dream. After what he’s done, there would be no going back to the old ways. No more cake and coffee in his kitchen, no more sheepish smiles as you hand in your work, no more… no more you.

“You’re afraid?” He asks, doing all he can to keep the remorse from seeping into his voice. He should’ve cut you loose last week like he planned. Now you’ll be walking into hell itself for the sake of data collection and it’s all his fault.

“I just…” You try, pursing your lips as you think of the words. “Bravo Team went missing out there. That’s not– S.T.A.R.S members just up and vanishing? I’m scared something really bad happened up there.”

He reaches across his desk, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “No matter what happens, you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He made his choice.

You made yours.

Wesker turns the key in the ignition and the engine sputters to life. He fiddles with the seat once more to make it less uncomfortable than it had been on the ride back from the mountains. In the rearview mirror, he can see the way his eyes glow. Cat-like pupils stare back and accuse him of failure. The tyrant, the restricted data, and–

The passenger door opens slowly. His breath catches in his throat. It’s like the whole world is moving in slow motion while you climb in and he can hardly believe his eyes. In fact, he rubs them just to make sure.

“If we’re doing this,” you say warily, “I need to pick up a few things from home…”

Wesker can’t control the smile that spreads across his face. Though he supposes now there’s no need. Not anymore.

Part two

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #wesker x reader #wesker x you #resident evil #dbd #dead by daylight #re wesker

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milliesfishes · 11 days ago

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౨ৎ꣑ৎIce Dance౨ৎ꣑ৎ

౨ৎ꣑ৎ12 Days of Christmas Masterlist౨ৎ꣑ৎ [fem reader] contains: fluff :)) pairing: fem reader x peacekeeper coriolanus snow summary: caught in a blizzard with coriolanus author’s note: enjoy! <3 Spotify Playlist

The storm was so thick that you could hardly see three feet in front of you. Fat snowflakes whirled before your eyes, getting caught in your lashes and stuck on your clothes. When you'd departed for firewood an hour ago, the snowfall had been quiet, soft like a painting. Now it flurried before you like static, blinding you with only the fuzzy outlines of things to guide you. You weren't even sure if you were going the right way anymore, just walking in the general direction you'd started in. Surely you would make it home eventually.

Shivering, you pulled the ends of your shawl tighter around your shoulders, with your bag still on one shoulder and the bundle of wood tied with a string hanging from your frozen fingers. The big storm that had supposed to have come tomorrow had arrived early, it seemed.

Taking steady steps against the wind, you squinted ahead, trying to make out the street. Was that a house? A shop? You couldn't tell. The snow was piling up around you, and now your boots were leaving footprints. It was doubtful that you'd be able to leave your house tomorrow, if you ever made it home at all.

Weary, you wondered if your legs would just give out halfway there. If someone would find you blue and shivering in the snow, still clinging to the firewood that had to be too wet to even use by now. Honestly, it wouldn't be the worst thing if you passed out now, face first in the snow. It'd be the most rest you'd gotten in weeks.

You looked around when you heard your name shouted over the howl of the wind, dismissing it the first time. It must have been an echo. But the second time it was louder, clearer. Shielding your eyes, hair whipping into your eyes, you looked around, trying to see who else was in this mythical storm.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, Coriolanus appeared, blue eyes visible even amidst the snowflakes. Your shoulders slumped in relief as he came closer, holding you by the waist as soon as he was able. Your head fell to his chest immediately, the thump of his heart louder than the wind. He reached a gloved hand up, covering your ear that had been frozen by the cold.

When winter came, the Peacekeepers swapped out their lightweight summer uniforms for ones lined with thermal technology. You could feel how much thicker his shirt was under your fingers, sliding your hand under his coat, which had a fuzzy lining. Coriolanus bent his head, talking quieter now that you were close. "What're you doing out here?" You wordlessly held up the firewood, and he sighed, shifting his gun to the other hand so he could rub your back. "Okay." He looked around, scanning the perimeter. "Okay, I'm gonna walk you home."

"You'll get in trouble-"

"Escorting a civilian won't get me in trouble," he insisted, pulling you close and beginning to walk. He reached for your firewood and before you could protest, lifted it up so it was hoisted under his arm, gun in his fist. "C'mon, I don't want you in this storm."

Under his arm, you felt a little warmer. Coriolanus guided you against the wind, looking down at you every little bit. The sight of his large footprints beside yours made you smile. Sometimes he felt like a ghost to you, something you'd created out of desperation or loneliness. But even though your prints would be swallowed by the falling snow, it was proof for now. He was here.

Pushing you along with a steady hand on your back, Coriolanus scanned what was visible of the horizon, lifting the hand with your firewood and pointing. "Over there. That direction."

You nodded, not bothering to try and look. He was your compass in this flurried mess. Coriolanus seemed to know the way home better than you did, and you clung to him as he guided you home, eyes fixed in the distance. Since meeting him he had always been like this. Guiding, protecting. Eyes fixed on you like you were his last hope.

When he stopped, you looked up, shivering in the cold. "What is it?"

Coriolanus squeezed your arm. "Look." You followed his gaze, seeing the outline of your little cottage down the block. Until that moment, you didn't know your shoulders were so tense, and they dropped, your body slumping into his. He rubbed your elbow, continuing the trek and leading you along with him.

The snow was getting deeper, and the storm thicker. It was like being trapped in a vanilla pudding. Coriolanus' arm bent over your shoulders so his hand was covering your forehead, tilted to shield your eyes. You squinted into the night, and he rested his chin on your head for a brief moment before leading you down the path, the snow bunching at your ankles. You were shivering worse than ever at this point, and so when Coriolanus finally grasped the door handle, you breathed a sigh of relief.

It was dark in your house, but you still felt instantly warmer, some of the life coming back into you. The door was still open, the wind sneaking in and tickling your sides. Coriolanus had one foot still in the snow, and he poked his head through the door. "Are you okay?"

He was half-leaving. You resisted. "Won't you come in?"

"I need to get to base," Coriolanus said, but you shook your head. Reaching out, you grasped his arm, the cold leaving you vulnerable and pleading.

"Stay. Please?" You tugged lightly at him, your sway managing to get him all the way inside. Toeing the door shut, you got a clear view of his face for the first time that night under the brim of his hat. His eyes were soft, a rare thing in the eyes of a soldier. When he hesitated, you murmured, "It's too dangerous with the storm. You wouldn't get back safely."

Coriolanus sighed quietly, his posture loosening. He nodded once. "Fine." When he noticed your smile, he tried to hold back his own, but you saw it in his eyes as he set down your firewood and his gun by the door, toeing off his boots.

You moved closer to him, touching his shoulders and rubbing up and down his chest. "You must be freezing. I'll start a fire."

The corners of his lips turned up. "You were far less covered than me. I'll start you a fire."

"I'm fine," you tried, but a shiver shook your shoulders, and Coriolanus shook his head, removing his hat and coat.

"Go change, sweetheart," he ushered, going to your dwindling inside stack of firewood. "If I'm going to stay tonight, you're going to be warm."

You obeyed, retreating to your cozy bedroom and donning one of your cozier nightdresses, fetching him something too. A few pairs of men's pants previously belonging to your father lingered in your drawers, and you figured now was the reason. In a split-second decision, you snatched something else from a different drawer, heart warming at the thought of giving it to him. "Coryo?"

He appeared moments later, cheeks a little rosier. "Yes?"

Holding out the pants, you blinked innocently. "Here. You should change too." Before he could say anything else, you thrust out the other thing, watching him take it. "I made it for you."

"You made it?" A little smile appeared on his face like magic as he examined the sweater, ran his fingers over the maroon handiwork, love in every stitch. "Made this for me?"

"Uh huh." You nodded proudly, bouncing on your toes. "Just for you. I was saving it for Christmas, but I want you to have it right now."

Coriolanus’ hand found your crown, and he leaned in, kissing your forehead. You couldn’t suppress your smile and neither could he. When he pulled back, his eyes were warm. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome,” you breathed as his warm palm found the side of your face. Touching his hand, you said, "Change. I'll go make us some tea." He lifted your hand to his lips, leaving you with a tender kiss before you left to put a pot over the fire.

When he emerged in his new sweater, you were bundled in a blanket, knit socks scrunched at the ankles, two mugs before you as you waited for the water to boil. You looked up, eyes lighting like fireflies when he sat beside you, beginning to turn his hands over by the flames eating at some of the last of the dry wood. He reached for you, and you gladly obliged, dragging the blanket along with you.

Resting your cheek on his chest, you found he was warm, despite what little time he'd spent indoors. Thank heavens for Peacekeeper winter apparel. Coriolanus pulled the blanket over your shoulders, chin pressed to the top of your head.

"Do you like it?" you murmured, drawing circles on his arm.

He pulled your hair behind your shoulders, following the line of it with his fingers and kissing your head. "Very much."

"Really?" You lifted your head to find he was already looking down, icy blue eyes melting to something as clear as the lake on a summer day. He nodded, fondly adjusting the shoulder of your nightdress.

The lid of the pot began to rattle, and you turned, briefly departing from his arms to pour the water, humming as the mugs warmed your hands. Passing one to Coriolanus, you savored the feel of your own for a moment, listening to the wind knocking at the windows and searching for crevices in the roof. A perfect storm, and you were at the heart of it with the one you loved.

He was sipping his tea, reaching out for you with one hand. You obliged, carefully shifting over to where he beckoned, between his legs. With a few fingers, you tossed the blanket over both of you, smiling when Coriolanus wrapped his sweater covered arm over your collarbone, holding you to his chest and still drinking his tea. He held the mug around the base, not by the handle, and the little detail made you smile.

"Will you get in trouble?" you asked after a moment, suddenly worried even though you'd begged him to stay. He rubbed your shoulder assuredly before answering.

"Not with a storm this bad." Coriolanus set his empty mug down. "Or at least, that's what I'll tell them." You smiled, snuggling closer, and he kissed your temple. "I was helping you, anyways. You were out there without gloves or even a coat."

"I thought I wouldn't be that long," you giggled, flexing your frozen fingers. "The storm was early. Supposed to come tomorrow."

"Uh huh." He took your mug and set it down beside his own. "It likely won't let up all night now that it's here. We might be trapped inside."

"Good," you decided, turning in his arms so your ear was at his heart. "We can cuddle longer."

"Ah." He said nothing more on it, simply tracing the lines of your back and tucking your head under his chin. You smiled into his chest, kissing the spot. There had been a smile in his voice, and you savored it like a peppermint.

He'd never exactly stayed the night, always back for curfew before you could attempt to convince him. You never pushed it, knowing how important staying on good terms within his position was to him. Already, early in this night, you knew this would be a memory to treasure, play back when you were falling asleep or missing him, which was often. Did he do the same thing, you wondered? Lay awake in the barracks and think of his girl, cozy in her bed with a spot saved for him just in case?

As he slipped his hand underneath yours on his chest for you to hold, you got a distinct feeling that he did.

"You're still cold," he commented, rubbing your back.

You smiled, closing your eyes and nuzzling into his chest. "You'll warm me up in no time."

His kiss to your forehead was delicate as a snowflake, and it melted into your skin, becoming a part of you. "All night long."

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sarawritestories · 7 months ago

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I Wanna Be Yours Chapter 2

Xaden Riorson X Lydia Aetos

Summary: Lydia Aetos Longs to be a Ballerina, her father has other plans, and has conscripted her to the rider's quadrant with her childhood friend Violet. Reuniting with her brother he only gives her two orders. Do not bring up wanting to dance and stay far away from Xaden Riorson. Both of his orders go ignored.

Chapter Summary: Lydia is drowning in the memories of her past, and trying to get her footing at Basgiath.

A/N: I'm so sorry that it took me this long to get out. I loved chapter 1 so dearly I was struggling to make sure Chapter 2 was just as good!

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I promise it won't be super long like this for every update I was just going through some things and fighting some insecurities!

Word Count: 9,235 (I wasn't going to have you all wait this long just for a short fic

Chapter 1 I Wanna Be Yours Masterlist

My breathing becomes rapid as I wait to go on stage. The anticipation before a performance has always been the reason for my heart racing and my nerves are heighten. The warmth of a larger tanned hand enveloping my own instantly quiets the noise in my mind. “You look like you’re ready to crawl out of your skin, Dove.” I smile and look at Lian, my dance partner, my love. His warm brown eyes, twinkling under the mage lights. He smiles and it’s so disarming and causes butterflies to flutter in my stomach. “You are radiant.”

I giggle, and smooth out my dance dress the flowing skirts various shades cobalt that stops at my knees. The bodice having an intricate design of silver swirls against the blue corset like top. “You say that every show.” His free hand plays with one of the lose curls framing my face, the rest of my hair in a tight ornate bun. I take in his form; his outfit matches mine in hue with his pants various levels of blue with a simply white tunic that reveals some of his tone chest the silver pendant you gave him wrapped around his neck. “I have to say, Lian, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Lian chuckles as He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing them to my knuckles specifically where the ring he had given me resides. “I mean it Lydia. I love-

The music swells in the auditorium the melody, the indication I need to appear. “See you out there, Lover Boy.” He releases my hand as I begin to leap onto the stage and into Fourth position. Feeling Lian’s warm gaze upon my body, causing my cheeks to redden. I begin the routine.

My movements are fluid, my turns sharp. Seraphina’s words in the back of my mind, “Keep those feet pointed, arms straight, girl.” Her raspy voice rings in my ears as I correct my feet and my arms. Allowing the music to enter my body once again. I am its puppet, the symphony my puppeteer.

I swirl my skirt whirling around me the shades of blue looking like rippling waves around me. And I begin the movements that lead to my big leap when I notice one of the musicians hit the incorrect note. Seraphina always said to not let the musicians’ mistakes be your downfall on the stage. Heading that advise I push through tampering my annoyance I run and take in the air. My grin big, my legs stretched wide, I feel as though I’m flying, and in this moment one thing rings true, there will never be a more freeing feeling than this.

The other musicians’ notes turn sharp and out of tune, and the disruption despite what I was taught causes me to stumble my landing. I hiss as my ankle rolls, causing my body to collapse to the ground, but I don’t think about the pain as screams erupt from the theater. Tanned Hands are instantly on my waist hoisting me up and the familiar smell of soap and ocean waves crash tells me its Lian. I smell the flames before I see them. “Lian, we have to get out of here.” My voice trembles as fear begins to consume me.

Flames erupt around the theater as the ground shakes before us Lian grabs me closer to me. "I'm sorry dove," he whispers.

"For what?" He presses his forehead to mine. Panic laces my voice as he grips me tighter, his thumb grazing against my hip in a soothing manner. Confusion washes through me at his behavior, we should be trying to leave to get out of here. “Lian, you’re scaring me.”

"I love you more today than I did yesterday." He murmurs in my hair. My chest feels heavy like someone is applying all their weight over my heart at his words. I can’t breathe. He looks at me expectantly and my stomach gets a sinking sensation.

I shake my head as tears pool in my eyes and begin to run down my face, as I cup his cheek, "Why does this feel like a goodbye?" I cry out while he waits patiently waiting for me to finish his statement. The sounds around us muted by the intensity this conversation has become.

"Finish it, dove. Please." The banisters above us crash, and the flames lick my skin as he grips me closer to his chest. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

I tremble, and press his lips to mine quickly, "I'll love you more tomorrow than I did today." He kisses my lips once more, just when the stage collapses, he pushes me out of the way. The warmth of his touch lingering on my skin as I watch him get consumed by the hole where the stage once stood. Arms wrap around me, hoisting me up and dragging me to safety. I begin to thrash and scream, calling out to him, "Lian, LIAN!"

My Screams the only sound in the burning auditorium.

“Wake up, Lydia! Wake! Up!” Dain’s voice breaks through the darkness and my eyes open with a jolt and I sit up. My eyes can’t seem to focus, and I don’t recall where I am, Dain’s hands grip my shoulders, and my gaze quickly moves to my brother. His eyes hold concern in them, his brows furrowed, “You were just having a dream.” His thumbs rubbed my shoulders, “You were out for two days.”

“Two days.” Memories of golden yellow eyes and how the blue daggertail bowed to me. A dragon had bowed to me! I lived to tell the tale of my first interaction with a dragon.

I slowly lift my hands and wrap them around his wrists as though I need proof, he is really with me. His eyes glance at my hand and spot the silver band with a swirls throughout the band and the initials LD engraved in it. “I didn’t think he would let you keep anything after mom left.” His brown eyes meet mine.

I quickly remove my hands with a scoff. “The General doesn’t get to dictate what I keep and what gets thrown away. Even if he thinks he does.” My mind goes back to watching as he destroyed one set of my pointe shoes. I smile, what he didn’t know on that day, that in my bag, the new pair I had bought from the traveling market were there.

Dain releases my shoulders, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Lydia he is only trying to protect you.” He lowers his hands and shoots me a glare, “As am I.” His tone is clipped.

I blink and my lip curls, “What’s that supposed to mean?” I cross my arms.

My brother leans against his chair, also crossing his arms a familiar stance we have taken over the years. One that only led to one of us screaming and the other either with tears, or a broken nose. Dain’s nose has never looked the same since. “Are you aware whose dragon it was that you enticed?”

Rage consumes my body, “You want to ask that again, Brother?” I quirk a brow at him.

“No.” His tone is just like the general’s, too much like him.

“You know I don’t know, so don’t be a condescending prick and just tell me.” I begin to stretch my legs under the blankets my feet naturally pointing. The numb feeling shifting into pins and needles my legs has been in one position for too long. I need to get up…I need to practice.

“That was Xaden Riorson’s dragon, Lydia.” Dain snarls. “And you bowed to it, like it she was some all-powerful being. Do you know how that makes the Aetos family look? Did that even cross your mind?”

I turn to sit at the edge of my bed, my hand gripping the end so tightly my knuckles turn white. “You’re joking, right?” Anger begins to bubble; my face begins to heat up and I can feel the tears beginning to build. “A dragon approached me. In most cultures, bowing between two parties is a sign of respect. I was thinking of how I could come out of that situation alive.” Dain’s lips formed into a tight line shifting in his seat. “I thought about my life. I wasn’t thinking about who that dragon belonged to, how embarrassing it was for you. I sure as fuck did not give a shit about our family reputation.” I rise noting that I am still from my clothes from the parapet. Finally taking in my surroundings I notice the rows of beds someone brought me to the female wing. “What time is it?”

“We have about 2 hours before formation.” Dain says rising from his own scene. “I need you to lay low. Please for the love of the gods, please lay low. Don’t attract any unwanted attention, do not bring up the dancing thing.” He grips my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. “This is the most important one so pay attention. Stay away from Xaden Riorson.”

I snort and yank my arm back, “I have no interest in being near the one person in this place who would probably want to see our heads on a spike, thanks to the action of our father.” Pushing him out of my way I grab my bag that is lying beside my bed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for the day.”

I left the female wing before he could get another word in. I manage to find the showers on my own and wash off the grime that I have been sleeping in. Letting the water cascade down my skin, I rub my face my mind wandering from that interaction with the blue daggertail. To the nightmare I woke up from. Lian. My dance partner, my lover, my best friend. I twist the ring on my finger absentmindedly, it’s been months since I last had a dream about him. Tears well up in my eyes.

The rays of the sun warmed my skin as I began my stretches, Lian lying on the blanket in front of me. The sun is hitting his tan skin, his eyes closed, a smile on his face. As though he didn’t have any care in the world, except to be here with me. Finishing my stretches I rise to my feet and lift my teeth on my tippy toes. My bare feet sink into the plush blades of grass. I raise my leg above my head.

I begin to hum, and the tune shifts me from the prairie we are having a picnic at and morphs to the theater. My hums soon are replaced by the sweet sounds of the orchestra. I move my leg down pointed behind me. My movements fluid as my feet carries me through the stage. Leaps precise arms tight, various faces in the crowd, that I don’t pay close attention to. I begin my pirouette. I’m to do five spins for this routine, the most I have done. Putting myself in position I smile out to the crown and stumble, brown hair the same as my own, a smile that Dain inherited are looking back at me. It’s not that my mother is in the crowd that causes my movements to falter. Her eyes, seeming to glow in the dim lights of the theater and their color, gone were the warmth and comfort of her blue eyes. Her gaze now cold, hard and the vilest shade of red.

Hands gripped my waist pulling me tightly, fingers beginning to dance at my size as laughter begins to bubble up my chest.

“Lian!” I squeal as he spins me around, always knowing exactly when I need to be pulled from my thoughts. “Put me down! I’m rehearsing!”

He presses his lips to my ear, “You’re always rehearsing, Dove. We’re outside let’s enjoy our picnic.”

“I don’t like dealing with the wrath of Seraphina.” I murmur as I lean into his touch.

“I have a gift for though. Don’t you want to know what it is?” I whip around to face him, and he chuckles at my wide-eyed expression.

“My Love, if you want my attention, start with gifts.” He leads me back to the blanket and sits me down. “I have something for you too.”

“Me first,” he tucks what he has behind his back. Lian's curly brown hair becoming wild with the soft summer breeze rolling through. “Close your eyes, Dove, and hold out your right hand.”

I quirk a brow but obey, closing my eyes I stick out my right hand. It feels like hours have gone by though it has only been a minute at most before his soft hand holds mine. The cool bite of metal sliding down my finger until it reaches my knuckle. I open my eyes and gasp. The engraving work on the ring is beautiful, the swirling design reminding me of shadows and in the center where the shadows should my initials reside there. LD.

I look up at my partner and smile, “Lian D- He silences me with a kiss one filled with so much passion it makes me dizzy.

He pulls away, “Do you like it?” He murmurs over my mouth.

“No.” His face falls before I kiss his nose, “I love it.” Lian’s grin takes my breath away. “My turn.” I press a hand to his chest, “Sit back, and close your eyes.” Lian sat back on his heels and closed his eyes. I dig through my bag until my fingers grip the chain, pulling it out revealing the oval pendant with my name in the center. I crawl to him and gently place the chain over his head and place the necklace down gently around his neck.

Lian opens his eyes, and looks down to the pendant. His thumb grazes over the engraving of my name as though he was caressing me. My body responds to the sight of it as if his thumb was grazing me, tenderly. He looks up at me with a smile, “Now you’ll be near my heart forever.” Lian grabs my waist and pulls me on his lap. “Happy Anniversary, Dove.”

I press my forehead to his. “Happy Anniversary, Lian.”

“Lydia?” Violet’s voice rings through the bathing chambers.

“I’m in here,” I call out, her footsteps echoing through the chamber.

“Are you okay? I just ran into Dain.” Her voice is hesitant, she knows my feelings for my brother as well as I know about hers. “He seemed upset.”

“He can get in line.” Shutting off the water and grabbing my towel to dry off. “I don’t need a lecture about how he is a good person. I’m not interested in that.”

“I know what today is.” My hands still, “I’m not here to talk about Dain. He’s being an ass.” I wrap the towel around my body and step out. Violet’s blue eyes with flickers of amber were warm. “I’m sorry.” She engulfs me into a hug as I swallow the tears threatening to fall. “He would be so proud of you, Lydia.”

Today would have been our two-year anniversary. I should be at the dance studio with him rehearsing. Yet here I am in Basgiath and Lian…is gone.

Lian’s absence has hurt me in more ways than one. After our one-year anniversary he vanished. At least when my mother abandoned me, she had the decency to leave me a note. Late nights at the lake, stolen kisses backstage, his arms wrapped around me so tight the colonel’s wrath couldn’t find me there. I long for those moments once more, but clearly, he didn’t. His words the day we exchanged gifts ring in my head, “I’ll get you out, Lydia, you’ll never have to deal with your father. I’m going to set you free.”

He didn’t keep his promise. He left me behind without so much as a second glance. Freedom. My mom longed for it, Lian promised it. I’m growing to detest the idea of freedom if it means the people I care about most fucking abandon me for it, leaving me to a cruel fate.

Confined. Controlled. Caged.

What good is freedom if it means stepping on the backs of the people one loves just to get there?

My feeling of sadness contorts to anger as I slowly pull away from Violet, she has never once abandoned me and is confined in this brick cage as I am. Violet doesn’t deserve my anger, though the sympathy in her eyes told me I could, and she would let me. I refuse to be my father or my brother and take my out-of-control feelings out on people who do not deserve it. Straightening my spine I give Violet’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Hard to be proud of someone, you actively abandoned with no word as to why you left.” I release her hand and swallow once more forcing the lump lodged in my throat back down to the pit of my stomach where it belongs. Where all my unwanted feelings belong. “I’m going to get dressed and we can head to formation.

Violet nods, her eyes still glittering with concern. I quickly moved to change into the leathers that were near my bed this morning. Wrapping my hair in a tight bun I stick the two hair pins in. I link my arms with hers and give her a smile, a performative one, but a smile all the same.

Formation was a blur even as I am currently looking for a seat during breakfast, thinking back I can’t quite remember anything other than the list of names of those that did not make it yesterday, and everyone’s eyes on me. Kind of like they are now, though I have never been a stranger to eyes upon me, I wish it was for my ability to dance and not because I survived an interaction with Xaden Riorson’s dragon. And arm drapes around my shoulder, “Welcome back to the land of the living.” Ridoc’s voice is a welcome joy from the ominous stares burning holes in my skin. “Come, we’ve already scooped up Sorrengail.” Before I can counter, he is brining me to the table with Rhiannon, Violet, and a man who’s skinny, sandy curls lay atop his head.

Sitting at the open seat next to him the handsome man, he held out his hand, “Sawyer Henrick.” There is a twinkle in his green eyes, his freckles a stark contrast with his pale skin.

I grip his hand and give him a warm smile, “Lydia Aetos.”

Sawyer winks, “You know, you’re a lot prettier to look at than your brother.”

Heat creeps up my skin, as I release his hand. “Thanks, I guess.” I take a sip of my drink, “He is an eye sore.” Sawyer spits out his drink all over Ridoc as he chuckles, while the latter groans.

“How are you feeling, Lydia?” Rhiannon changes the subject as Ridoc continues his grumbling.

I think back to Xaden’s onyx eyes boring into my skull, or the heat from the Blue Daggertails nostril’s grazing against my neck as if a gust of warm summer’s wind was caressing me. Her yellow eyes staring at me, assessing me, for what? I’m not sure and I hope I wouldn’t find out considering who her rider is. The fear surges back up but a hand gripping my own brings me to the present. Soft, tiny, Violet, I look over to the youngest Sorrengail, “I’m alright. Nothing a few days rest couldn’t solve.”

“So, that interaction with that dragon…”Ridoc pulls my attention to him, “What was that all about?”

I shrug, beginning to devour my meal, not caring how the food tasted as I discover how hungry I am, “I truly wish I knew. I have never met a dragon before her.”

The table falls silent in contemplation. I shift in my seat and feel the familiar prick in the back of my neck. Glancing up Onyx eyes look at me in cold assessment as he eats his food, his stare never breaking from my own. I give my performance grin, the one that makes the audience fall in love with me the moment I step on the stage. Slowly raising my hand, I lift my middle finger to him. His eyes lower and he tilts his head ever slightly ignoring the person who is chatting away in front of him. I give him a playful wink and break eye contact though I can feel his eyes on me.

“Well, should we call you the Queen of the Dragons?” Ridoc quips as the table chuckles with him and I hunch my shoulders slightly, embarrassment trickling through my body. “I mean I have never heard of a dragon that has bowed to a human in that way before. It must mean she’s destined to rule them all.” Ridoc smiles at me as I ball up my napkin to throw at him.

“Absolutely not, I would much rather you all call me twinkle toes than that.” I sip my water as the entire table, Violet included, give each other playful looks.

Collectively and in the highest decibel above screaming yell, “Twinkle Toes!” Before erupting in laughter and I can’t help but join in. I forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by people that I connect with so well and enjoy their company. Sitting with them wiping my tears from laughter that causes my stomach to ache is a welcome reprieve from the dark corners of my mind where I usually reside.

“Mind if we join?” A man’s voice pulls the group from our bubble and back into reality. I lift my gaze and it feels as though ice has been poured over my head. The man’s eyes the same shade of brown as his, his hair like the curls I ran my fingers through countless times, lips I’ve kissed on numerous occasions. His face has the same shape as Lian’s, they could have been twins. My gaze shifts lower to the relic that peaks through his leathers and that’s where the similarities end, and the sound of my heart shattering thunder in my ears.

“Not at all We have space,” Ridoc scoots down, Lian’s look-a-like allows his handsome friend that had a matching tattoo along, with blonde hair and blue eyes, to sit closer to Ridoc and he sits in front of me. I swallow down my surge of emotions tears threatening to fall as the man smiles at me.

Ridoc takes over with the introductions, saving himself for last. “And who might you two be.”

The blonde-haired male eyes locks on Violets, as he smiles and I notice that her cheeks are red as he holds out his hand to her, “Liam Mairi.” Violet shakes his hand and averts her gaze. Sliding his hand from hers his fingers lingering slightly from her fingertips. Clasping the man’s, in front of me, shoulder, “This right here is Bodhi Durran, a second year.”

Metal clashes as my utensils falls on the plate, “I’m so sorry.” I rise to my feet acutely aware eyes are on me, “I just realize I need to do some things before class starts. Please excuse me.” I smile at Bohdi vision beginning to blur as tears rise, “It was lovely to meet you.” I turn and briskly walk away before anyone can call me back. Running down the hall and into the female wing of the dorms I reach my cot and sob in my pillow. Memories of Lian I have since buried deep rising to the surface:

“Lydia Aetos. My muse.” Lian smiles as my hips grind against his, “My dove.” His tanned hands slide my dress up my thighs they slowly reach my chest palming my cleavage resulting in a moan from me. “Who sings such pretty songs in pleasure.” He sits up and I adjust accordingly as I ride him.

“I love you.” I whisper, my eyes lidded, “I love you Lian Durran.” My fingers slide through his dark curls as his lips find mine and claim me.

A hand clamps over my mouth as I’m hoisted from my cot. My back presses against a hard back a dagger at my neck as hands grip my legs to prevent me from kicking. “Shh, Twinkle Toes. We’re going to take good care of you! I scream resulting in the hand clamping tighter around my mouth.

I lash around as Jack Barlow and his cronies begin to carry me down the empty corridor. “Jack,” the one struggling to keep my feet together groans, “Can’t we at least have some fun with her before we get rid of her?” My body stills at the implication. I know I’m in danger, but fear keeps me frozen in place.

Help

I am incapable of calling out to help as the duo pulls me into the shadows. They pin me to the wall, and I beg my body to move, will it to do anything besides tremble, I think of Dain, and the dream of a better relationship with my brother, of Violet whose kindness has brought me from the brink of insanity by her friendship. I think of Rhiannon, Ridoc, Sawyer, Liam and even Bodhi, friendships I’ll never get to see grow because I know one thing is certain.

I am going to die today.

Jack presses the knife to my skin keeping my head in place with his hand. “I’m going to make sure you feel the humiliation I felt on the parapet that day.” He whispers in my ear as he grazes the knife across my neck, hard enough to break skin, though not hard enough to kill. As if he was a predator toying with his food, he lowered the cold steel down to my chest where the leathers we received protected me from taking any reputable damage. “You are such a pretty little thing.” Bile rose in the back of my throat at his words. “You’ll be even prettier drenched in your blood.

“But you sai-

“Even I wouldn’t stoop that low.” And with a quick movement of his hand Jack slit the other cadet’s throat. I screamed his palm muffling the sound. His cold blue eyes meet mine, “Now where were we?”

“What do we have here?” A low voice causes Jack to turn, yanking me to his front. Hazel eyes meet mine and I take a moment to take in the person in front of me. His dark black hair with short curls allows the sharp angles of his face to stand out. His high cheekbones and perfectly set nose this man is handsome and right now his mouth is set in a firm line, “It’s not nice to hand a pretty lady in such a way.”

“I’m handling a pest problem.” Jack simply states.

The man smiles and its devastatingly beautiful. “Allow me to correct myself.” His large, calloused hand wraps around my forearm and maneuvers me out of Jack’s grasp with ease. All the while gripping the collar of Jack’s jacket, “You will not touch her or come near her ever again. “Do you understand?” Jack nods a snarl curling at his lips as the man releases him. “Good not run along, you’ll be late for battle brief.” Jack makes sure to level me with a glare as he walks down the corridor. The mystery man turns towards me and smiles, his eyes scanning me, locking in my neck where the warmth of my blood clings to my skin. “You’re hurt.”

“A simple scratch, it will be gone in the morning.” I look to the corpse lying behind him and he glances to where I’m staring, “Better than being that guy at the moment.” The man snorts as his gaze lands on me once more. He nods as though the answer is good enough for him as I reach out my hand, “I’m Lydia.”

His eyes light up in recognition, “Aetos right?” I sheepishly nod my head as he takes my hand and places a soft kiss on my knuckles, “A pleasure. You are much nicer to look at than your brother.” He releases my hand and I laugh.

“I see my brother has made quite the name for himself.” I quip as I fidget as silence fell between the two of us.

“Come on Cadet, we will be late for battle brief.” The man extends his arm for me to loop through and as my hand pressed into his muscled arm, he led me down the hall.

I look back to the body on the ground, “Um shouldn’t we take care of him?”

Garrick chuckles, “Don’t fret, Pretty girl, someone will dispose of him and his things. “Death is pretty commonplace here.” I feel his eyes are on me. I glance back in his direction to see a playful smirk on his face, “I like your eyes. How one is brown, and one is blue. Its about as unique as having a dragon bow to you.” He quirks a brow as I groan looking up at the ornate ceiling above. “Word travels fast here.”

“So much for going through these three years undetected I guess.” He hums in agreement, and I take a moment to study him as we go down the stairs. “So does the pretty boy have a name?”

The man winks at me, “He does.”

“Well, I can’t call you my hero forever,” I smile, the sadness of a former love fluttering away, as I shamelessly flirt with the man in front of me.

He whistles, “You’re good, Aetos.” He releases my arm only playfully nudges me. “My name is Garrick. Feel free to keep calling me your hero though. I won’t mind.”

I laugh, “You’re a shameless flirt.” I counter as we approach a classroom, students from every year begin filing in.

Onyx eyes meet mine, his nostrils flare slightly at the sight of me with Garrick but his lips remain in a tight line as a warmth breath grazes my ear, “Takes one to know one, Pretty Girl.” I whip my head towards him as he stands to his full height and walks into the room without so much as a goodbye. Though he is quick to wrap what I now see as a tattooed arm around Xaden causing the Wingleader to break eye contact with me.

“Hey, are you okay? You ran off pretty quickly at breakfast.” Ridoc’s voice rings out as I find him with the others at the entryway.

“I’m fine, just needed to catch up on work.” Ridoc nodded as we all entered the large classroom with chairs that rose all the way up to the rafters. Every student in Basgiath could be sat here. The ornate look of the room takes my breath away as it reminds me of the theater I once used to frequent with my mother.

“Everyone, take your seats and we will begin.” A woman projects her voice from where she stands, at what can only be described as a stage. I’m once again reminded of the fact that I am no longer a dancer. This is not a theater. I am to become a rider. This is Battle Brief.

Waking up early, I quickly change into my leotard and tights that I sneak past my father’s nose. The last week has been a challenge to say the least. I have been struggling to gain my footing, Dain’s constant quips and critiques, the intense class schedule. Finding reasons to get up and keep moving has been a challenging one for me. Familiar dark thoughts overriding my brain my father’s words ringing in my ears. Somedays I am able to quiet them other time they were yelled in high decibels causing me to curl into a ball in my cot.

Worthless. Pathetic. Disgrace of a child.

Wrapping my pointe shoes around my ankles tying them securely I begin to tiptoe toward the Gym where there are full length mirrors.

Grateful that no one is around, I begin my stretches, my feet pointed outward, I lower my body. I focus on my breathing as I plie I reach one arm out in front of me the other above me and I sink lower once more.

Inhale

Hold 2, 3, 4

Exhale

I rise on my exhale and do this a few more times trying to keep my breathing even and the dark thoughts at bay. To keep from those feelings consuming me entirely as they have in previous years. And I begin to do my routine.

“You need to get up, Lydia.” Lian whispers as I turn over and cover the pillow over my head groaning. “Dove.” His fingers graze up my bare spine.

“Go away.” I grumble pulling the covers over me tightly.

Lian continues his tender strokes, “Is it happening again?” He gently removes the pillow from my head to reveal my tear-stained cheeks. “The dark feelings returning.”

I nod my head, “It feels like my body weighs a ton. I just want to lay in bed.” Lian proceeds to pull the covers off me and before I can begin to scold him, he kisses the bottom of my spine spine and leaves soft pecks all the way up to the base of my neck. “Lian.” I warn.

“I’m not going to do anything, not like that anyway.” He chuckles as his firm hands begin to rub the tension from my shoulders. “Seraphina can rehearse with the others today.”

“You should-

“I would never leave you behind, Dove.” He continues to massage my back and reaches a knot that elicits a groan. “I’m going to set you free, baby. I promise.” A small smile emerges on my face, “There she is.”

My spins become sloppy as memories of Lian bubble up.

I would never leave you behind. But he did.

I am going to set you free. Yet, I’m still in a cage.

I love you, Dove. Then why did he leave?

I lose my footing as I leap, and my ankle rolls before I can fall to the floor calloused hands grip my arms. My body stiffens as I see the rebellion relic, followed by the scent of leather and mint. My eyes gaze up to meet the Gold flecked onyx of Xaden Riorson. “What has you up this early?”

I writhe out of his grasp, “Why do you want to know?”

Xaden quirks his scarred brow, “I’m your Wingleader, Kitten, it’s my job to know why my cadet is not only out of bed but why she is in…whatever it is you’re wearing.”

I look down at my pointe shoes followed by my pink tights and leotard, “I’m a dancer. This is dance attire.”

His eyes graze down my body and a shiver course down my spine at his ogling. “Why are you here?”

“This space is for all cadets, Wingleader.” I begin to continue when he presses a finger to my lips.

“No, no. Why are you here in Basgiath?” His thumb idly swiped my hip the tenderness of the action pulling me from my stupor. As I whack his hand and step out of his grasp. “I mean it is pretty obvious you don’t belong here, Kitten.”

Through gritted teeth, “Well the fuck aware, Riorson. I also recall telling you my name is Lydia.”

He takes a step closer, gripping my chin he forces me to look at him, “Tell me something, Lydia. Why did you bow to Sgaeyl?”

Sgaeyl. That is the name of his dragon. Beautiful. Just like her. “Out of respect.”

“You didn’t have to.” He murmurs getting close enough that I have no choice but to look up at him. “Most people would have ran away.”

“I’m not most people. I prefer keeping my flesh intact not becoming a pile of ash.” I pull one of the hair pins from my hair pressing it to his chest forcing him to take a step back. “Tell me, Xaden, why did she bow in return?”

He hums in contemplation, and I scowl. He bends down at the waist, so our faces are inches apart from one another. My heartbeat quickens at him being so close to me, warmth pooling in my belly as his beautiful face closes in on mine, our nose near touching. “Now where is the fun in answering that, Kitten.” His face contorts into a look of confusion. “You’re crying.”

I press my hand to my cheek to find tears there. The dark thoughts hit me like a wave crashing over a rock, unlike a rock, I get swept up in the current:

Useless, Pathetic, Annoying. Traitor

Traitor

I wrap my arms around myself and take a step away from the Wingleader. The warmth his body provided was now gone. “I have to go, if I want to change and make it to formation in time.” I turn acutely aware I am putting my back to him as I scurry off back from the room. Finding a vacant hallway, I slide my back against the cool brick, rubbing my chest. The words are becoming all-consuming, and I allow myself to succumb to the darkness. The words playing in a loop as though it was playing through a faulty record player.

Worthless

Words are so cruel but have been my constant companion when people I care about were so quick to leave me. Abandon me. Brennan, my mom, Lian, even Dain is guilty of abandoning me. It’s hard to not let the vile words keep me down when the most important people in my life constantly leave me. At some point the words that would pop up as fleeting thought began to take root and seep into my brain as something factual the moment, I found that letter on my bed. The moment I learned that I wasn’t worth fighting for, wasn’t worth defending.

Dain’s betrayal stung the most when he would stop defending me against our father when it came to my dancing and has since tried to snuff out the one good thing in my life with him.

“I highly doubt you’re good enough to make a career out of it. This is a fine hobby sure, but you need to realize that he expects you to train to be a warrior.”

A chunk of my heart deteriorated that day. Dain has never once seen me dance, for him to say that hurt. For him to then reiterate that last week stings more. Nothing has changed and I was hoping that being here away from our father would give us the chance to mend things. The hope now since squandered since I yielded my practice challenge after the first punch. He said I was embarrassing him and making father look like a fool.

Maybe I am a fool. Fool for falling in love with a performer who the moment things became complicated had left without an utterance of goodbye.

Foolish for thinking I could have a career in dance with my father carrying me like a marionette doll. Foolish for thinking him and I would ever have a loving father daughter relationship like I witness Violet have with her father.

Foolish for thinking I’m good enough to fight for, to love, to be cared for.

Foolish

Stray tears turn into stream of sobs as I tuck my knees to my chest and bury my face in them. I don’t care how loud I’m being, or how emotional I am. I just want the ache in my chest to disappear, for the heaviness of my existence to lift from my shoulders. For someone, anyone, to pull me from the depths of my darkness so that I may be able to breathe easier, to feel less burdensome.

My vision blurs as I allow the thoughts to rip me apart, the sounds of footsteps causing me to lift my head. Finding a tall figure hovering over me as my vison gives way to the tears, I don’t register the hands that lift me from the ground only the comforting smell of Leather and mint before falling asleep allowing the exhaustion of my episode to welcome me with open arms.

“Lydia!” Violet squeals jolting me awake, I look to see I’m on my cot. The other women filtering through. “You missed formation, I was so worried about you.” Her frail arms wrap around my neck and I’m quick to embrace her back not only because I needed her comfort but also to keep her from falling. “Were you asleep the whole time?”

I shrug, “I honestly am not sure how I got here. I was practicing in the gym before anyone had woken up. Next thing I know I am waking up to you.” She nods and a pang of guilt hits me like a dagger, I know that someone had brought me back here during my meltdown. Violet has enough to worry about on her own, she doesn’t need to be worried about me as well. “Was Dain mad?”

Violet bit her lip and her cheeks became rosy, “He was,” She looked up as though she was trying to pick the best word from a shelf. “Agitated.”

Shit.

“He was angry. I didn’t mean to miss formation. I just didn’t wake up.” I sit up and grab my leathers. Preparing for the fight I will inevitably have with my brother. “I will be surprised if he doesn’t just kill me before the year is over. That way he doesn’t have to worry about me ruining his image.”

“Well, what if I said that I have something that gives you and I an edge.” I pause and turn to my friend. She holds up a book in her hands the scrawl so familiar.

The Book of Brennan

“How?”

“Mira must have kept it after Brennan died.” Violet shrugs and her eyes shift as if for a moment she was back home, and her brother was still alive. I reach over and grip her shoulder and she physically shake off the memories. She gives me a smile, “We’ll read this after classes. If we are even late to one. I fear Ridoc is going to become lost.”

“Can’t have that. I’ll change quickly and we can go.” She nods with a smile and the vacancy in her eyes dissipating. And I turn to go change, wishing there was something I could do to keep Violet safe from the horrors of this world.

I’m going to murder Violet.

The brisk cold air of the night still reaching my bones even with my cloak on. I cling the material tighter to my chest as I cross the courtyard hoping I blend in with the dark shadows of the night. I shouldn’t even be the one out here tonight. After reading Brennan’s guide to surviving Basgiath, Violet took it upon herself a few days ago to find out who our first challenge partners were. In turn she knew of a flower that grew in a tree near the lake that would give herself an edge next week. She had asked if she should get enough for two people, but I refused. I had no intention of fighting anyone next week but that even if I did I would not need it.

Violet didn’t intend to have a flare up before she set off on her little escapade tonight. These past few weeks have taken a toll on her body even though she would never say anything. Dain and I knew she is suffering in silence, stubborn just like her mother. Though tonight she couldn’t even get out of bed. Her silvery blue eyes pleading as she asked if I would go get the flower for her. Even gave me a rough sketch of what I was looking for. Not being able to deny the minx anything I agreed and now out in the abnormally cold evening for summer my knee flares in pain, something that occurs when weather shifts, I sustained an injury during a performance when I first started dancing and now, I’m acutely aware of when we are getting a storm, or when General Sorrengail is having a fit. The abnormal chill causes another shooting pain to my knee, and I grit my teeth swallowing the pain.

The tree comes into focus and my mind drifts back to simpler times.

“Dain! I can’t its too high.” I scream clinging tightly to a branch closing my eyes to avoid looking at the daunting distance from the branch to the ground.

“Lydia, I promise I’ll catch you.” Dain voice calls out. “I promise I won’t let you fall.”

I peak an eye open and his arms only slightly bigger than mine are wide open ready to cling onto me should I decide to jump down. “I’m scared.” I whisper.

“I’m your brother, my job is to protect you. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?” I nod my head and take a steadying breath as I ease my grip on the branch. Shifting in a seated position the skirt of my pale pink dress shifting with me. “That’s it. Now jump!”

I close my eyes and take that leap a shrill scream erupting from my throat as the air whirled around my ears. Arms gripped my shoulders and knees. “See,” Dains voice; a soothing balm over my fears, “You are safe. So long as I breathe, I will always keep you safe, Lydia. I promise.” I latch my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight.

“I love you, Dain.”

Another cold breeze kisses my cheeks as I’m brought to the present, where it’s not warm and sunny, but warm with the looming threat of rain above. Where my brother and I are not close and may as well be strangers. The only person who would protect me from the monsters lurking in the shadows being myself. I shake the looming thoughts reminding myself that I am here for a task.

I lighten my steps to keep them quiet and not draw attention to myself. To further ease my worries of being caught as I loom closer to the tree, I imagine that I’m not a cadet out past curfew in a war college I want nothing to do with, but instead a wraith dancing across the stage, undetected from the royal guards. The orchestra’s melodies were one of short beats that matched with footsteps, a dark undertone to build the tension for the audience, as though I may be caught. My movements highlight my ability to flip and contort my body, in place of my normal languid long movements.

My feet move on their own accord as I dance with a face covering to conceal my identity, for if the guards realized there was an assassin on their grounds, they would likely kill me. In swift movements, as though I’m galloping toward the tower, where my sworn enemy waits for me at the top. I stretch my body as if I was on my tiptoes I would be able to reach the man who was destined to be my enemy. Who became my lover instead. Lovers destined to be apart, who against the odds found moments to be together. The music roars in my ears as the short beats of the music shift to one of longing and passion.

I place my foot in the slot made for my dance shoes and begin my accent my lover waiting for me at the top of the tower. The music rises in tandem with my ascent and dramatically I falter on a step acting as though I lost my footing. The music in tandem with the music building to a climactic moment, the audience gasping thinking I will fall. As gracefully as slid, I pushed my body back against the set piece and continued my ascension.

My forehead collides with a tree trunk, and I yelp in surprise. Reality rearing its hideous form from my beautiful daydream to reveal I am halfway up the tree. How I didn’t hit any other branches takes me by surprise, but I continue, keeping my eyes peeled for the flower Violet needs.

Spotting the delicate looking but also dangerous plant I settle myself on a large branch that supports my weight and I gather a few of the buds and place it in the vile that the youngest Sorrengail sibling provided for me. Once I gather enough for Violet to use, I place the vile in my pocket and set to lower myself from the tree where I hear voices. Lying on my stomach keeping myself flushed against the tree branch as three cloaked figures come into view.

The three lower their cloaks and my heart stops. The pink hair of the marked one that destroyed Violets shoulder at our practice round of challenges. Garrick’s curls appeared from the cloak along with his annoyingly handsome smirk. Finally, Xaden Riorson, and in the moonlight, I can’t deny that his beauty whooshes the breath out of me. I especially try to keep the fact that his body close to mine when I ran into him at the gym plays across my mind periodically and heat pools in my stomach at the though of his hands on me and his lips…

The shuffling of more feet pulls me from stupor as more marked ones approach, I know because most have opted to not wear any coverings and let reveal their relics with pride. I scrunch my brows; this meeting is against the codex. The marked ones are not supposed to congregate in groups larger than three. A ridiculous rule, as these children are paying for the crimes of their parents but regardless a rule they are actively breaking. I pray to whatever gods can hear to keep me hidden. Xaden only needs to look up to see I’m there to expose that I’m listening and because of who I’m related to; he has grounds to kill me for simply being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I am going to murder Violet.

As the group of Marked one’s settle is when Xaden’s voice booms in the courtyard. “Alright, let’s get started.”

A person in the back of the group perks up, “I am having a difficult time with History.”

Imogen snorts, “Because of the dates, or because of the lies?” I roll my eyes at her, I may agree that I don’t believe what they are teaching is accurate especially after talking to Lian last year but to stupidly question out loud in the open where anyone could hear is foolish and the quickest to get yourself executed for treason.

“Both.” The young man mutters. Movement on my leg causes me to jolt and I clamp a hand over my mouth to prevent me from shrieking as I look at my leg only to find my leg hidden in the shadows, and it almost feels like the shadows are caressing my leg as if in comfort. Feeling my heartrate regulate I lay back down in my position and try to remain quiet as Garrick answers the young boy.

As the hour ticks by I learn that Xaden is helping the marked ones get through their time here. They like me didn’t ask to be here but must make the best of the dangerous situation their parents unknowingly put them in. My eyes constantly find Xaden’s figure through this meeting and how he looks almost fatherly, the way he’s standing, and the words of comfort and advice causes my chest to tighten. Xaden is more of a loving father to these people than my father ever was to me. Once again, I felt movement against my leg only to find darkness and my brows knit in confusion.

“What of Lydia Aetos and Violet Sorrengail?” A girl in front quips up in front and my blood runs cold.

“What of them?” Garrick questions back in a tone that can only be described as a warning as he crosses his arms.

“Their parents are the reason we’re here against our will. When do we get to punish them for their crimes? It’s clear we can’t touch Dain, but surely, we can take out the twinkle toed princess?”

“Lydia Aetos and Violet Sorrengail, are mine to handle.” Xaden says with cool indifference though his tone edged on being scolding. “I will remind you, Cadet, that Violet and Lydia didn’t ask to be here either. Violet was studying to be a scribe and you’ve all seen Aetos dance. Neither of them wanted to be here. They are trapped in the same position as we are by the exact same people.”

“You plan on sparing them?” The girl retorts her voice bordering on shrieking. “My mom and older sister are dead because of them. I think taking their children evens the score.”

“Fall in line, Cadet. The two girls are not your kill. I said I am going to handle it. Believe me no one has more reason to hate those two than me.” A sinking feeling wraps me into a state of paralysis. The memory of his hands on me shatters like glass, of course he has every reason to hate me for what my father did. Of course he would want to settle the score, blinded simply by the fact that he’s attractive, I forgot how lethal he is.

The silence permeates over the courtyard, “If you don’t have any other questions then we’re done here.” Imogen commands her nose in the air. “Make sure you go in groups of three to not raise suspicion.”

The group begins to disband in their merry groups of three murmuring about the happenings of this meeting. Imogen and Xaden left together as Garrick waved them off leaning against the tree, watching them go with ease. Silence falls leaving the creatures of the night to sing their beautiful melodies. It almost lulls me to sleep as Garrick’s voice breaks me from the trance, “Have a good night, Pretty Girl, and good luck.” He pauses as my heart thunders out of my chest, and chuckles pushing himself off the trunk of the tree, “You’re gonna’ need it.” He begins to walk away, and I’m left alone in a state of confusion.

I wait a few minutes to ensure that everyone has left before I make my descent. Landing on the grass with a soft thud, I take a moment to admire the moonlight reflecting the rippling waves, a smile on my face in the beauty of it. Pulling my gaze away from the water I attempt to lift my leg to walk only to find it won’t move. Looking down tendrils of darkness are wrapped snuggly against both ankles keeping my feet planted to ground. I attempt to move again and almost scream out when a low chuckle emerges behind me, whipping around my wavey hair falling over my shoulder as I meet Gold-flecked Onyx eyes and my heart falls into my stomach as Xaden’s figure emerges into the moonlight. A slight tilt of his lips as he crosses his arms.

“You’re not where you’re supposed to be, Kitten.”

To Be Continued!!

Some I tagged that wouldn't let me link if that happened I'm so sorry!

Story Tags: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @marvelsmylife @sherayuki @misslady246

@thelov3lybookworm @a-frog-with-a-laptop @randomperson1234sblog @garricks4thwingqueen @leastlikelytoachieve

@clayme123 @sweetsformysoul @nickishadow139 @bada-lee-ily @andreperez11

@pit-and-the-pen @demi321win-chester @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover

Enjoy!!

#xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing xaden #xaden riorson #xaden and sgaeyl #xaden riorson x lydia aetos

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loveandpeaceanddoughnuts · 4 months ago

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Clean Sheets: Maid!Levi x Reader

cw: attempted seduction, shameless smut // wc: 3,579 // [ao3]

You had a giant crush on the guy who cleaned your house. Not in a creepy middle-aged-mom-wants-the-pool-boy way, you told yourself. The cleaning service you hired when you started working longer shifts (after your therapist convinced you that you were not a bad person because you didn’t dust your baseboards, despite what your mother had said) just so happened to come in the form of an incredibly sexy man.

Sexy and intimidating, even though the two of you were the same height. He never smiled, just showed up on your doorstep in a tight little uniform and got to work. You weren’t sure why a cleaner needed a leather harness, but you weren’t going to complain when you saw the way it stretched around his pecs as he scrubbed.

He’d barely spoken to you beyond a gruff introduction on the first day, but you learned that his name was Levi Ackerman, and that he would begrudgingly accept a cup of tea if you offered it. Maybe it was the aloofness that drew you to him, or the way he wielded a mop like a weapon, or the dust cloths he tied over his hair and face like a housewife from the fifties.

Whatever it was, you had it bad for the guy. And today was the day you were going to seduce him. He had just finished the last room in the house, and you were waiting in the kitchen to give him his payment.

As he walked in, you slowly reached up and began to unbutton your top. Your tits spilled out right on cue. “I’m a little short on cash today, Mr. Ackerman,” you purred. “Is there any way I can pay you with…something else?” You bit your lip and looked up at him through fluttering eyelashes. Sure, you were laying it on a little thick, but better to be clear about it, you thought.

Levi was staring past you, frowning at a stain on the counter as he tugged down his cloth mask. You gave a breathy little laugh and tried to lean into his view, but he just stepped around you and kept glaring. “I just cleaned that. You’ve only been in here for thirty seconds, how have you already made a mess? What are you, a damn tornado?”

Your jaw dropped as you absorbed his tirade. “A torna- what? What are you talking about?” How has this already gone off-script? “Ackerman, my tits are out!”

He finally looked back at you. “Why are your tits out?”

“Because I’m trying to seduce you, you idiot!”

“Well that’s not a very good way to go about it, saying things like that,” he said flatly.

God he was infuriating. You wanted to suck the condescension right out of his cock.

“Well it would have been, if you weren’t so focused on this,” you whirled around and squinted at the splash of coffee that had so offended him. You licked your thumb and rubbed the stain away. “There. Is that better?”

He clutched at the cloth around his neck in horror. “No it is not!” You’d never seen his eyes so wide, and were momentarily distracted by how pretty they were. The sight brought you back to your objective. Time for a new tactic.

You hoisted yourself up on the counter across from him, swinging your legs nonchalantly as you watched him sponge away the spot with muttered curses. He was so meticulous. Surely that had to translate into the bedroom…you shook your head. Eyes on the prize. The prize that was currently bent over to examine your countertop from eye level.

Apparently satisfied, Levi straightened up and turned back to you, his steel gray eyes unimpressed. “What exactly are you trying to do here?”

You giggle. “I told you. I’m seducing you.”

He tucked the sponge away neatly and crossed his arms. “No, you’re not.”

“Oh come onnn. Not even a little?”

The ghost of a smirk crossed his face. “Not even a little.”

“Well what do you want me to do, huh?”

Levi rolled his eyes at your pout and smoothly crossed the room, crowding you against the countertop as he stepped between your legs. He looked up at you with all the confidence in the world. “I want you to use your words. None of this hair-twirling, giggling shit. What do you want?”

Your mouth went dry as your pussy flooded. “Uh, I, I want-”

“Uh, I, I want-” He mocked your horny babble in his sandpaper voice, leaning in closer. “Use. Your. Words. I know you have a dirty mouth to match your house.”

The insult somehow made your arousal burn hotter. You swallowed hard and tried to find your voice again. “I want you to fuck me, Ackerman.”

He smiled tightly. “Levi, if we’re fucking.”

“Are we? Fucking?” It made you dizzy to look down at him, the proximity painful. You wondered dimly if he could feel the heat radiating from between your legs.

The shadows under his eyes were thrown into stark relief as he tilted his head up into the fluorescent light of your kitchen. He smelled like clean linen hung out to dry in a lightning storm. His hands were softer than you imagined when they cupped your face, dragging your lips against his. Levi’s kiss was exploratory, gentle and probing. When you tried to deepen it, your tongue swiping against his bottom lip, he pulled back with a smirk.

“Tch, someone’s eager. You want me that bad?”

You shivered, dragging your nails across his sharp undercut. “Yeah, I do.”

He nodded, pleased, and you glowed at the crumb of praise. What was this guy doing to you?

“Then I suppose you can call me Levi.” He gripped your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the countertop, hooking your legs around his waist. He lifted you easily and carried you to your own bedroom as if he had done it a hundred times. You took the opportunity to press greedy kisses along his newly accessible neck and sharp jaw, relishing the little hiss of air it drew from him.

He dropped you back onto your bed, one knee already up to follow you there when he froze. He stared down at where your clothed cunt had pressed against his spotless gray shirt. Well. Formerly spotless. His eyes turned steely, and he herded you back on the bed until you hit the headboard, caged in by his strong arms. “Look at that. You’ve already made another mess. Filthy girl.”

He slides the hem of his shirt up teasingly, revealing chiseled abs. You want to lick him like a goddamn lollipop. He seems to read your mind, looking at you with an air of expectation. When you don’t move, he rolls his eyes again.

“Eh? Do I need to spell it out?” He grabs your chin and turns your face to his waist. “Clean your mess.” You stick out your tongue, and when he doesn’t say anything to correct you, you lean forward and lick a long, hot stripe up his six-pack, shivering at the faint tang of your own arousal. He closes his eyes and sighs, his muscles tensing as you taste him. “Good girl.”

Eager to make the most of your opportunity, you hook your fingers into the waistband of his pants and tug, a silent question in your eyes. He huffed a laugh and let go of your chin to start unbuckling the frankly egregious amount of fastenings on his belt and harness. He makes quick work of it, and you're treated to the sight of your bizarrely buff house cleaner unwrapping himself like a present on your bed.

There’s a small mountain of strappy leather beside him by the time he’s done, and you’re drowning in anticipation. He catches your wide-eyed stare and looks away, the barest hint of a flush on his cheeks. Levi reached behind him with one hand and tugged his shirt over his head by the collar. “Well? Are you going to join me?”

You scrambled to take off your dress, shivering under the heat of his stare. It was hard to read approval in his sharp face, but he leaned closer, guiding your hands back to his waist. He held his hands over yours as you unbuttoned him and slid his trousers down his narrow hips.

Your mouth watered at the sight of the bulge that strained against his briefs. You slowly dragged them down his tight, muscled ass. His cock was stunning, lovely in a way you’d never thought a cock could be. It was long and thick, pale with a prominent vein and the slightest left curve. Pearly precum beaded at his flushed pink tip, slapping hard against his abdomen as you set it free.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured, cock-drunk without your lips ever touching him.

“That’s not one I’ve heard before.” His voice was still gruff, but when you managed to pull your eyes away from his dick you were stunned to see that the hint of color on his cheeks had darkened to a full-blown blush. It makes you bold again.

“You like that? Being called pretty?”

He glared at you. “Don’t be ridiculous. Pretty. Tch.”

You grinned back and bent down to press a soft kiss to his tip. It jumped against you, glossing your lips with precum. “I think you do.”

Levi clenched his jaw as you teased him. “Thought you just wanted to get fucked, woman.”

You ignore the threat and press another gentle kiss to his swollen cockhead. “That’s before I knew you had such a pretty dick.”

In a flash, Levi had you on your back. He grabbed both your cheeks in one hand, squeezing them into a pout. “Yeah? Well I knew from the start you’d be a brat.” His hard body pins you to the bed, and you feel him throb against your stomach.

“You like it,” you mumble through squished lips.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” You stick your tongue out, and Levi almost chokes.

“You are such a-” he lets go of you, dragging a hand down his face. “Are you always this annoying?”

You smile up at him as he frowns, curling your fingers around his cock. “Probably.” You stroke him lazily, and he shudders at your touch. His strong arms tremble as they cage you in.

“Maybe I need to fuck that attitude out of you, hm?” There’s a tremor in his gravelly voice now.

“You can certainly try,” you purr. You have him right where you want him- flushed and needy and just a little frustrated.

He growls at your challenge, yanking your soaked panties down to your knees. He grabs your wrists in one hand and pulls them over your head, pinning you to the mattress. The position makes you arch your back, and he smirks as he nudges your legs wider with his knee. His cock is achingly hard now, weeping precum as he teases it between your folds. His eyes are dark as he coats himself with your arousal, his tip nudging your clit in a mean little tease every few strokes.

“So wet for me already, eh? Making a mess of your clean sheets.” He clicks his tongue. “Better make this worth the extra work, beautiful.”

You resist the sudden urge to giggle. It’s all going so perfectly, and he’s hotter than you’d dreamed. He’s just as eager as you are underneath the cocky nonchalance, but the persona is part of the reason you’ve been lusting after him anyway, so you let him keep it. He’s right about the mess, after all. You’re lying in a rapidly growing pool of your own slick, your cunt clenching around nothing as he teases you. As fun as the game is, you want his chiseled cock to split you in half already.

“Please Levi…” you whimper.

“Yes? Is there something you want?”

Your face flushes at the prompting. “You know what I want.”

“Your words, remember, sweetheart? If you want something from me, you need to tell me what it is. You need to beg me for it.” He leans closer to you as he speaks, his lips brushing your ear on the last words.

“Fuck you.”

Levi looks down, back up at you, and back down again, dramatically arching an eyebrow. “Is that what’s happening here?”

The sarcasm makes you want to rip out your hair. Or better yet, his. You suck in a breath and open your mouth just as he reaches down and pinches your clit, soothing it with little circles immediately after. Your retort turns into a moan. “Leviiiiii…”

“Hmm?” He cocks his head, still rubbing your clit.

You try again. “Levi, I- ohhhhhh fuck!” This time he shoves two fingers into your eager cunt, smirking at the greedy squelch it makes. He curls them against your plush walls, reading every gasp and jerk of your hips like a map to your most sensitive spots.

“I can’t quite understand you,” he says smoothly. Your eyes rolled back as he added another finger, pumping all three into you in a steady rhythm. “Though I think prefer you like this. So much more polite.” You squirm desperately against him, his relentless fingers stretching you deliciously.

“Levi, please!” You choke out, twisting your wrists helplessly in his grasp. “Please, can’t take it, need you inside me, please,” your face crumples as he angles his hand even deeper, hitting a spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He slides out of you, holding his hand up to examine the translucent stretch of your slick as he spreads his fingers. “I’ll clean up after you free of charge, just this once,” he teases, sucking them into his mouth with a hum of pleasure. He closes his eyes as he licks you off his hand, and you watch in helpless awe. He’s thorough, of course.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, wiping his spit-soaked fingers on your cheek. Levi lines himself up with your entrance, letting your wrists go at last so he can grip your hips with both hands. You squirm, trying desperately to relieve the aching emptiness he’s left you with. He gives you a real smile for the first time as he watches you wriggle underneath him.

“I love how eager you are for me.” He laughs, shaking his spiky bangs out of his eyes. “You make me feel so-” he hissed as you managed to sink down onto his tip, the heat of you overwhelming. “Mmm. I can’t keep you waiting any longer, can I?”

“No, you can’t,” you gasp, reaching up to pull him down to you by the back of his neck. “You’re driving me insane, Levi, please.” His eyes almost sparkle as he rocks his hips forward, at last, sheathing himself inside of you with a ragged groan.

He feels perfect, dragging easily against your soft walls as you stretch to take all of him. His vein throbs against you and it sends sparks down your legs. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming into you again, moaning when you shove his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss. This time he parts his lips eagerly when you lick at them, and you taste yourself on his tongue as you devour him.

“Levi, oh fuck, Levi…” He swallows your moans and sets a punishing rhythm, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he spreads you open.

“Taking me so fuckin’ well, that’s it, good girl,” he moans praises against your neck, hands sliding under your back to support you as you arch into his strokes. “Is that what you wanted? You needed me to use this sloppy pussy?” The dirty talk rolls off his tongue so easily, even as he gently holds you up and kisses your sweaty forehead. “I can tell how badly you wanted this, so goddamn soaked for me, so filthy.”

You nodded helplessly, fucked dumb, mouth falling open as he slammed you into the mattress. The sound of your own panting breath sounded very far away, your ears ringing with the force of his thrusts. “Filthy…” you repeat mindlessly, twisting your fingers into his hair, trying to anchor yourself.

He groaned as you pulled his hair, tossing his head back into your grip. “That’s it, hold onto me, I’ve got you.” He lifted you higher, his hands spread across your ass and the small of your back to hold you up against him. You felt him even deeper from this angle, legs shaking as they dangled helplessly around his back. Only your upper body stayed on the bed, the rest of you made into a willing cocksleeve as Levi slammed you up and down against himself.

“Such a little brat, trying to seduce me, eye-fucking me while I work,” he growled, grinding you down against his abs as he makes you take him to the hilt. The friction against your clit is maddening, almost unbearable combined with how hard he’s slamming into you. He doesn’t miss the way you clench around his cock, and shifts his grip on you to one arm so he can torture your puffy clit with his free hand. He rolls it faster and faster between his fingers, teeth flashing in another smile as you muffle a scream behind your hand.

“Good girl. You gonna cum on this cock, eh? Don’t hide those pretty little sounds from me. Wanna hear how good I’m fucking you.” He works you up to the edge of orgasm and keeps you there with steady pressure on your clit, taking his time. You scrunch your eyes shut, mouth stretched open in a silent scream as his cock knocks against your cervix.

He’s breathing harder, his voice rough and desperate. “Tell me who owns this messy cunt. Tell me who’s giving you the best damn fuck you’ve ever had,” he grits out.

“Levi!” You cry. “It’s you, it’s you Levi…”

“Yeah?” He’s getting meaner, your legs locking around his waist, knowing you can’t take much more.

“Yes, you, Levi- you own this messy cunt,” you moan, the words burning on your lips. No one’s ever made you feel so helpless, so overcome with pleasure.

He bends down, folding you in half as he presses his lips to your neck. He whispers praises, punctuating them with open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin hard enough to leave deep purple bruises. “So fucking good for me. You wanna cum on my cock, beautiful?”

“Yes, yes, please, wanna cum,” you babble, lightheaded and electrified.

“God you’re so gorgeous when you beg,” he sighs, granting your wish with a final pinch to your clit as he kisses your breath away. He pulls away with a gasp as your orgasm makes you clench and tremble around his cock, the sensation driving him to his own peak.

His fucked-out face rearranges itself into the dry smirk that you know so well as he looks down at you. “Gonna let me cum inside, brat? You wouldn’t want to make another mess…”

You nod frantically, the primal part of you wanting nothing more than to take every drop of him. “Yes, cum in me Levi,” you whimper.

“Ah fuck. You’re killing me,” he groans, but his face softens again when you agree. With a grunt, he leans back and tightens his grip on your thighs, holding you down and spread open. From this position you can see every rippling muscle, every bead of sweat that slides down his taut body. He’s sexy, powerful, confident, but you stand by your earlier statement. Most of all, he looks so pretty as he wrecks you.

His gaze burns down at where you’re joined together, the creamy ring of your slick cum at the base of him, smearing down his thighs. His thrusts get sloppier, shuddering against you as he chases his high. You reach down and cup your hand around his balls, fondling and tugging them gently. Levi’s mouth falls open, his eyes going wide at the unexpected feeling. The look of shock on his face is intoxicating.

It drags him up and over the edge, and he bottoms out in you with a strangled cry, collapsing onto your chest as he shoots rope after rope of creamy cum. The thick warmth of him fills you as you stroke his back and brush the hair from his face, soothing him through is high.

He peels away from you with a shudder, gasping for breath, pupils blown wide in the gray sky of his eyes. He takes a moment just to breathe, coming back to himself before sliding out of you with a wet gush of your mixed cum. He wraps his arms around you and gathers you against his chest, pressing soft kisses to your salty skin.

“You okay?” He murmurs. “You were amazing.”

You’re spent, your cunt still twitching from his exertions, and it takes all your energy to sleepily whisper back, “More than okay. That was wonderful.” You close your eyes and curl into him. “Sorry that we made a mess…”

He chuckles, his breath ruffling your hair. “I’ll wash these sheets if you don’t mind me staying a little longer.” He drapes his arm around your waist, tracing shapes on your hip, and the gentle caress lulls you even more.

“Mmm, stay as long as you like.”

P.S. I BEG OF YOU no spoilers I’m watching AOT for the first time and just started S4!

#i saw some fanart of him in a maid outfit that altered my brain chemistry #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi smut #captain levi #aot x reader #aot smut #levi aot #shingeki no kyojin #crack fic #ao3 fanfic #ao3

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captainsophiestark · 2 months ago

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Winglets

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: Top Gun

Day Twenty-Three Prompt: "We can fix this, I know we can."

Summary: Rooster and his SO are housesitting for Penny while she, Mav, and Amelia are on vacation. A relaxing staycation turns into a schoolwork refresher course when they get a little carried away.

Word Count: 1,578

Category: Fluff, Humor, maybe a little bit of Angst?

A/N: Happy Halloween!!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Oh... Bradley."

Bradly hummed, his face buried in my neck and his arms wrapped tight around my waist. I ran my hands through his hair, tipping my head back further to give him better access.

"Are you still upset that Mav left you home?" I teased, running my hands across his shoulders. Bradley huffed a laugh.

"Nah. I'll trade an extended family vacation for this."

I grinned, then let out a little shriek as Bradley wrapped his arms around my thighs and hoisted me up, moving back towards the counter by the wall. My back hit something, hard, and I didn't think much of it until I heard a concerningly loud crash a moment later.

Bradley and I both froze on the spot. Slowly, without moving any more than we had to, Bradley and I pulled back enough to look at each other. His expression of terror exactly matched the feeling in my chest.

The two of us were having a little couples staycation while housesitting for Mav, Penny, and Amelia. The three of them were going on their first ever vacation as a family, and they'd asked Bradley and I to stay over at their place while they were gone. It'd been a nice break from base housing, and we'd been enjoying some uniterrupted alone time. But whatever that crash had been, it didn't sound good.

My eyes didn't leave Bradley's as he glanced over my shoulder. He paled and swore, and that was enough to get me in motion.

I pushed us both away from the counter, then whirled out of Bradley's arms to see how bad it was for myself. My heart dropped.

Amelia's science fair project, which had been sitting on the counter until a few moments ago, now lay shattered on the floor.

"Holy shit," I breathed, just staring in horror for a moment before finally whirling back to Bradley. "Holy shit! What did we just do?"

He shook his head, grave and still way more pale than normal.

"Amelia's going to kill us. And then Mav's going to kill us. And then Penny."

"We're the worst," I said, turning back to the project and shaking my head. My stomach was still down by my feet, a claw of guilt wrapped tight around my chest. "How did we not notice that? Dammit, out of every single countertop in this house, how did we manage to pick this one?"

I heard Bradley take a deep breath from behind me, and then his arm wrapped around my shoulder. I was ready to shake him off—neither of us should be getting comfort right now—but he spoke before I could say as much.

"Alright, this is bad. But it doesn't have to stay that way. We just have to keep a clear head and be smart."

"Baby, I think we're already past the point where being smart could've saved us."

"Not quite."

His hand dropped from around my shoulders, and he moved to crouch next to the broken science project. He picked up a few of the bigger pieces, turning them over in his hands, and then surveyed the poster board that went with it. That, at least, looked mostly still intact.

"We can fix this," he finally said, turning back to me, "I know we can."

"Bradley, it is shattered-"

"It's an airplane aerodynamics project with an arts and crafts execution. I'm a Navy pilot and I've seen you build an F1 car model without the instruction manual. This is exactly our experise."

I closed my eyes and sighed, trying to get a little space from the guilt and panic to think clearly. Bradley was right; the only chance we had to keep this from being a complete and total disaster was to stay calm and be smart. I took a few deep breaths, and when I opened my eyes again, the panic had been mostly replaced by a steely determination.

"Alright. Alright, you make a good point. Let's give it a try."

"Great! Come help me pick up all these pieces, we can set up on the kitchen table. We've still got a day before they get home."

"It took Amelia like two weeks to put this thing together."

"Yeah, but we're not starting from scratch. Come on, positive thoughts."

*****************

The next several hours were chaos. Bradley and I managed to get all the pieces of Amelia's model airplane wings picked up off the floor, but hardly any of it was salvageable. We set everything on the counter, grabbed some pens and paper, and started planning out the best reconstruciton we could get. Luckily, Bradley had to know quite a bit about aerodynamics as a pilot. With the two of us working together and reading off of Amelia's notes, we managed to come up with a plan for putting things back together exactly as they had been.

Putting that plan into motion was where the real chaos came in.

After a quick run to buy supplies, Bradley and I had turned the kitchen counter into a mad scientist's workstation, with bits and pieces of our project laid out everywhere. I worked carefully to put the airplane wings back together while Bradley directed my placement of the arrows and squiggly plastic pieces denoting airflow, pressure, lift, and everything else Amelia needed to cover in her project.

"Okay, those small spirals go on the wing without the winglets."

"Are they seriously called winglets?" I asked, not glancing up from the project in my hands as I worked.

"Yes. Do you want help?"

"Yeah, hold the wing while I take the glue and our little plastic spiral."

Bradley stepped closer, his hands remarkable steady as I went to work. The spirals were supposed to show the air vortices that formed around the wing tip, and how they impacted lift when the little winglets weren't there to slow down their path. The whole time we'd been working on this project, I'd been impressed. Amelia knew a lot, and she'd found some pretty cool ways to show it.

"Alright, just hold that together for a few minutes," I said, leaning away and setting the hot glue gun down once I was done. Bradley did as I said, resting his forearms on the counter and settling in. I surveyed the rest of the countertop. "We're pretty close to done now, aren't we?"

Bradley looked around too, and I could see him going through his own mental checklist. We'd started this little project just after dinner, and now, we were into the early hours of the next morning with no sleep. It was good for both of us to be double-checking each other.

"I think so," he finally said with a nod. "Although we still have to figure out how to replace the couple of things that got messed up on her trifold."

I waved him off. "Easy. All we have to do is retype it on a laptop, print it out, and stick it back where it belongs."

Bradley nodded again, and I put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before standing from the kitchen stool.

"I'll go knock it out while you supervise the last of our gluing. We're in the home stretch."

He shot me a tired smile, and I headed to the living room to quickly replace the missing pieces of the trifold. Thankfully, we didn't run into any new complications as we put everything back into its final place. The sun was just starting to come up outside, but when Bradley and I stepped back from the counter, his arm around my shoulders as we admired our work, it looked perfect.

"I can't believe we actually managed to pull that off," I said, huffing a laugh and shaking my head. Bradley squeezed my shoulders, and when I glanced at him, I found him grinning at me.

"I can. We did a great job."

I smiled. "Yeah. Crazy, but we do really make a good team."

He leaned down to place a soft, sweet kiss on my lips. Then, instead of pulling back, he stayed close enough to speak lowly in my ear.

"You know, that was a pretty outstanding parenting move if you ask me. Maybe it's time we-"

"HELL no, Bradshaw," I said, taking a step back with a gentle push on Bradley's chest. "And that's both to having kids right now, and to doing anything more than soft pecks with our hands mostly to ourselves until we get the hell out of this house. We don't have time to fix this whole thing again."

Bradley laughed, pulling me back into his side, and the sound warmed my chest.

"Alright, alright, message recieved. It might be a good idea to wait and see if Amelia notices anything before we celebrate, anyway."

"Welp, we're not gonna have to wait long for that one. Come on, let's go get some sleep before she, Penny, and Mav get home. I'm so tired that if she even glances at me after seeing the project I'll probably crack."

Bradley laughed again as the two of us headed off to the spare bedroom, arms around each other. I'd won the lottery when I'd found him, my perfect wingman in every aspect of life, and I knew he felt the same about me. From science fair projects to beef with coworkers to big life emergencies, there was no one I'd rather have on my side than him.

Even though that love and affection had been the thing to get us in trouble in the first place tonight.

*****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Top Gun Taglist: @elenavampire21

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deeznutzzzz24 · 1 year ago

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Little Red Riding Hood

Chapter One - Kill Or Be Killed

Summary: Living a life of caution for as long as she can remember, Y/N has never stayed too long in one place, always moving from town to town in hopes to hide her identity. With the Hunters Moon coming, she knows she must be extra careful, as the local culture resides heavily in the hunting of her kind. One night, when a cloaked figure unveils her secret and narrowly escapes, Y/N finds herself in a desperate situation: kill or be killed. With no face to go by, she must now search through the townsfolk before the stranger can spread the truth about her. But the task proves more than difficult when she realises her only lead is a long, crimson cloak.

Genre: horror, fantasy, little red riding hood retelling

Warnings: cursing, stalking, death, heavy smut (later included)

Pairing: redridinghood!Jungwon x femwolf! reader

next chapter

A branch snaps. Something is wrong.

I whirl around, casting quick glances to every corner of the forest. A rehearsal, like I’d done every Hunters Moon as a girl.

A confirmation.

A silence.

A knowing.

Someone is watching.

My eyes scan the turret of green abyss before me, checking every leaf, every branch with eager uniformity.

I scrutinise each passing spec, scanning the forest for something out of place, something that doesn’t belong. But even in the dead of night the forest remains regal with grace, beckoning me to try and find its flaw.

When I finally conclude that my hiding acquaintance must be some stumbling stag, I go to turn back to the river and notice a flicker of motion to my left.

I stop dead in my tracks.

Something that doesn’t belong.

Got you.

I race across the clearing, diving head first into the forest without hesitation, but this stranger is smart, and from what I can gather, eager to hide his identity as I watch his red cloak shift fervently through the trees, concealing any hint of skin as he swiftly dodges all obstacles in his path. Suddenly, he trips over a fallen branch and lands face first on the ground. He groans in pain and I slow in my pace, preparing to make haste of my short advantage.

But before I can do anything of the sort, he’s hoisting himself up, grabbing at his foot that’s stuck firm in the mud.

Thank the heavens for yesterdays rain.

I go to resume in my advances, but he’s gone before I can pounce, yanking his foot from the ground and making another run for it.

No.

The voice in my head rings clear, precise with its set instruction.

He mustn’t get away.

In one last eager attempt to catch him, I grab a rock nearby and aim it towards his leg, praying that the gods will spare me this one small decency, at least for today.

The figure doesn’t bother brushing the filth off his cloak, making a priority of his escape as he runs off. A smart one. I find myself admiring his resolve to live, and almost feel bad as I watch the heavy stone smash into his left leg, causing him to stumble down the hill at an awkward position. I follow, but at a slower pace this time.

He could be armed.

And yes, just as I had hoped, the stranger awaits at the bottom of the hill, rocking side to side as he groans in agony and clutches at his knee. He makes no attempt to get up, although as I inch closer, I realise my throw was so strong he mightn’t be able to. He stops groaning as I approach. He’s getting ready.

My hand slowly grabs at the small dagger tucked into my side, drawing it out in one sly motion. I feel him stiffen as I straddle his lap, much too clouded in pain to react as I grab his hands and prepare to tie them above his head. “Sneaky thing, aren’t you?” I remark, breathing hard between laughs as I lower my dagger just above his adams apple. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before following me into the woods, boy.” His face remains covered by his crimson cloak, but I feel him breathing hard beneath it. I go to push it aside, but he abruptly pushes forward, banging his head against mine with fever.

I stumble backwards, moaning in pain. “You insolent little-” But it’s too late, the figure is already sprinting away into the dark forest. My hands find their way to my forehead, cradling what I know will be bruised tomorrow. Scrambling to my feet, I watch from afar as he pushes on, occasionally stopping to quickly relieve some pressure off his leg. I curse, kicking a nearby clump of dirt and sending it soaring through the trees. Brushing the dirt off my hair, I feel a surge of rage boil beneath my skin as I watch him cautiously cast quick glances behind him. The darkness makes it impossible for me to see his features clearly from this distance.

Dammit, I’m screwed.

I pace back and forth, considering running after him, but it’s too late, he’s too far gone now. He’s morphed into a small crimson spec now, limping as he makes a b-line for town.

Dammit.

Helena is going to be livid. But it doesn’t matter, because deep down I know she’s not the one I’m worried about.

The townspeople are.

Not to mention Mary, Jiwon and.…Heeseung. They’ll never speak to me again.

No, worse. They’ll push for my execution.

Wait. A tinge of cold air licks at my arm as I stop dead in my tracks. Red drops paint the dirt beneath me. My gaze follows the winding trail down the path.

Blood.

The fool has left me a trail.

I kneel to the ground, coating a finger in the red liquid and bringing it to my nose. His scent fills my senses, and I feel myself letting go. The blood smells sweet, like warm sugar and cinnamon. I bet it would it taste even better. My breath catches in my throat as I struggle to repress the small voice gnawing at my sanity. Go on. With shaky hands, I bring the blood to my lips, letting my mouth stop just short of contact. Let go. A howl echoes from across the forest. I snap out of my trance and shake my head, regaining my thoughts. I don’t have time for this. Deep breaths, in and out.

I am in control.

I turn back to the small village in the distance, the same town I have called home for the last 8 months. Avion. A quaint little village hustled in the centre of a frozen paradise, home to over 200 people…

and tonight, one of them is going to die.

_____________________________________________

Authors Note:

lmao can I just say thank you to all of yous that picked Jungwon in my previous poll cause gawd dayum I couldn’t stop picturing him as red riding hood and i suddenly regretted putting up a poll for ppl to choose LMAO 🤣

anyway ik this chapter was short but dw it was only short cause it was more like a prologue than an actual chapter lol

anyway peace out, me has got 2 go and start working on chapter two💀 bye bye

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shiyorin · 10 months ago

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#When you play dumb or your primarchs are just *ahem* horny :v

#I don't know what I wrote. I just do as requested :v

#Roll the dice and it said this time's menu is: Horus Lupercal and Roboute Guilliman.

#This is request from my dearest heretic anon.

#Primarchs x Reader, Reader is Imperial Agent. Malcador is proud of you (is he?)

#A little NSFW.

Horus Lupercal

You sighed listlessly as you wandered the ship, seeking diversion in your boredom. A familiar presence drew you eye, and you spied Horus upon a balcony overlooking the training cages below.

The training cages were alive with activity as Horus observed his Astartes sharpening their skills in mock combat. Though focused on their form, his thoughts drifted elsewhere, preparations for the coming Crusade weighed heavy. He gazed down from the viewing platform, assessing their progress, when soft footsteps alerted him to another's presence.

Horus appeared lost in thought, no doubt pondering weighty matters of strategy and conquest. You crept stealthily across the chamber, the feet making nary a sound upon the plush rugs. Coming up behind the Warmaster unnoticed was no mean feat, but your skills remained as sharp as the blade at your hip.

Finally within reach, you drew a deep breath and exhaled softly upon Horus's neck. A sudden warmth ghosted his ear, followed by a sultry whisper caressed his ear. "Boo..."

He whirled with a start to find your smiling face mere inches from his own, eyes dancing with mischief. Before you could retreat, Horus flashed into action, seizing your arm in an unbreakable grip.

With a grunt he hoisted your form against his chest, pinning your effortlessly as your legs kicked in vain. "Little one." he chuckled, though tension still lingered at the corners of his eyes. "One of these days you will be the death of mine, I fear."

Your eyes dancing with mirth. You laughed breathlessly. "You are no fun, my Warmaster."

"It seems you don't consider me worthy of respect, little one," he sighed, effortlessly maintaining your struggling form. "Sneaking up on your Warmaster, bold, but foolish."

You squirmed halfheartedly, delighting in the feel of his powerful physique caging you in. "And what would the great Warmaster do to earn it, I wonder?"

A gleam entered his eyes, dark promise in every contour of his sculpted features. "Oh, I can think of a few...persuasive methods."

Below, the Astartes fought on, oblivious to the true battle raging within their midst. Horus took his captive agent and you were limp and sated in his arms, marking you thoroughly as his. Only then did he release your, satisfied your pride had been tamed.

Horus smiled down at the dazed your in his arms. "Convinced, my dear?" He purred, nuzzling your satiated cheek. You could only sigh dreamily in reply. It seemed doubts of his prowess were well and truly laid to rest...

Roboute Guilliman

Guilliman reclined upon crisp sheets, body aching from battles past. His scowls only deepened your frown, but still you droned on, casualty reports, supply requisitions, missives from a thousand worlds.

"Do you hear me, my lord?" you pressed, quill scratching relentlessly. He sighed, weary unto his soul.

"Do you think I want to hear what you have to say, agent? I am wounded and wish only silence." His tone brooked no argument, yet still you persisted like the plague.

"You are the Primarch," you said, eyes aglow with righteous fervor. "You must overcome such things for the billions of people of the Imperium. Their hopes and dreams rest upon your shoulders."

Guilliman scrubbed a hand down his face. "I am Primarch, not invincible. Must I sacrifice even my healing for duty's never-ending demands?"

Your look softened, but still you would not yield. "That is not something you can decide, my lord. As were mine."

The Primarch knew well you spoke truth, bitter though it was. With a grunt he waved your on, closing his eyes against the rising tide of reports.

Guilliman continued to sigh, weariness seeping into his bones. Your report droned on, an endless litany of numbers and names. His mind drifted as you spoke, seeking escape however brief. Your voice took on a new texture in his imagination, breathy sighs and wanton gasps replacing dour droning.

One hand tangled in your locks, tugging your mouth to his in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. The other grasped that ass, fingers dimpling soft flesh as he thrust up to meet each bounce with abandon as reports fluttered forgotten to the floor. And you will chant his name like a prayer, a litany more rousing than any duty....

By the Throne, was he some green boy still in need of release? Shame warred with lingering heat, desire too long denied by duty's demands. He yearn for soft curves yielding beneath his palms, the taste of your skin, your cries of rapture as he took what was his by right.

You'd whimper and writhe, begging wordlessly for what they both craved. At the first penetration your walls would clutch him like a vice, pulling him deeper, deeper into scalding flesh made solely for his pleasure. He'd pound into your without mercy, relishing each gasp and moan, each slap of flesh on flesh. Only when he'd spent himself fully within your willing sheath would he grant surcease, collapsing in a sweat-soaked tangle of limbs.

By the Throne, how he longed to make that vision reality...

Guilliman blinked, flushing at the path his mind had wandered. But you remained oblivious, quill scratching as reports spilled forth. Little did you know the effect you had, and the fantasies your voice inspired in your lord's lonely chamber...

#shiyorin's writer #wh40crack #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #reader insert #lol #romantic stuff in 40k #actually i don't think it's romantic

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hotheadedhero · 6 months ago

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Crushing New Dreams

AN: I didn't know if I was going to be able to make a Mikey angst as heartbreaking as what I've got lined up for the other turtles but, you know what? I think I managed just that and it might be angstier than all of them. For the record, I won't blame you for hating me after this one because it's a doozy

All characters are aged up

Michelangelo x Reader

Warnings: mentions of sex, broken hearts, prospect of death, abortion, angst

In the two years that you and Michelangelo have been together, you have never made a point of being safe in the bedroom. You can’t say that either of you airs on the side of caution when it comes to such things. One may call it reckless but in your time as an established couple, you’ve both agreed that condoms don’t feel that great.

Then, the reward of your shared recklessness bestowed itself in the form of a late period and constant nausea. It took a week until you felt the need to take a test and the quick reveal of that first line left you in quiet shock for the remainder of that hour. You and Mikey had never talked much about having kids or when you would want them but you find yourself liking the idea of a family. Whether he wants the same or not is a mystery. There’s only one way to find out.

You text him on your way to the lair, mildly hinting at having some news for him. It isn’t a long walk but one that seems to drag out with every press of your heel along the sewer floors. Assuming the worst isn’t a common occurrence but you can’t help feeling as though something about this is going to go wrong. What if he isn’t ready for this kind of commitment? Would it be too much pressure and ultimately scare him away? Breathe. You remind yourself to just breathe and avoid jumping to negative conclusions.

Only when you’re standing in front of him do you realise that this is going to be a lot more difficult than you initially anticipated. Your tongue suddenly feels like a foreign object in your mouth and you stammer quietly whilst you try to find your words. Luckily, Mikey is remarkably patient when it comes to your nerves and gently encourages you to keep trying, ensuring you that everything is fine. Had you not alluded to this matter revolving around your amazing sex life with a bashful smile, he might have been worried that you came here to break up with him. With every awkward attempt to explain the situation, he brings the pieces together on his own accord. You barely even utter the word ‘pregnant’ before he has you lifted from the ground, arms tightly wrapped around your waist.

“You for real?!” he asks and the excitement is so clear, so present that all you can do is smile and nod. “I’m gonna be a dad!”

The world melds into a blur as he whirls you both around, flits of joy barrelling so loudly from your mouths that his family surely must hear. When he returns you to your feet, he dashes out to let them know that they’re going to be uncles. Those doubts from before are more than a memory, seizing to exist entirely as you listen to the elated voices from inside Mikey’s room. Raphael makes a comment about needing all the luck you can get with their youngest brother becoming a father but you know he means well in his own way. Soon after, you decide to join them. The lit-up faces remarking their congratulations set a cozy warmth around your heart and you couldn’t feel luckier. It starts to beat erratically, however, and you resort to holding the back of the couch to steady yourself.

“You okay, sweetness?" Mikey waringly asks.

To ease his concern, you laugh, albeit breathlessly, "Yeah, sorry, just got a little dizzy there.” Your smile slowly crumbles away with a frown and you squint up. “Are the lights getting brighter?”

No more than a second later, your legs give and he’s quick to catch your sudden rag doll of a body. Whilst he hoists you up into his grasp, each turtle kicks into gear to get anything you may need: water, pillows, a cold compress for your spiked temperature. It all goes by in a slowed daze, the mixed turbulence fading in and out like discord. You’re lain on the sofa, shallowly breathing amidst the force of an invisible tide. Ghosts have never achieved such a pale appearance. Just barely, you make out the orange of your boyfriend's mask as he looks over you, pathetically stroking the top of your head. He doesn’t know what else to do. Donatello suggests conducting a test or two and it’s in your best interest to allow him, though the process hardly registers in your condition.

By the time he’s examining the blood sample, you’ve managed to collect yourself enough to sit upright. Whatever that was must have been a fleeting incursion but still sets air to worry. It could be a standard symptom of early pregnancy. You have half a mind to rapidly research it yourself but the internet often carries its fair share of filled with worst-case scenarios. After a quick assurance of your well-being, you urge Mikey to follow you into his brother’s stated chunk of the lair. He sits bent over his microscope, muttering nonsensicals under his breath.

“What’s the verdict, D?”

"Not good," he admits quietly, afraid to speak further but dutifully having to. "Where genetics are concerned, I'm afraid this isn't going to work." He turns on his chair to face you both directly but it’s a struggle. His inability to look either of you in the eye only makes his words hit that much harder. "Not only is there a conflict of interest between your respective species but there are also the mutagenic properties of Michelangelo's DNA to consider."

"What does that mean exactly?" you unhurriedly inquire, too scared to ask at all but in need of an answer.

Donnie removes his glasses and his forearms lay slack over his thighs. "It means that either the baby is going to die soon or it'll grow inside you long enough that you…” He swallows. “You’ll both die."

Even now, he refuses to put his glasses back on. He can already imagine the look on your faces, how pale and broken they must be. He doesn't need to see them, especially when you choke out a sob, bite back a cry, before rushing to the nearest clearing to vomit. The feet of his youngest brother smack into the floor like gunshots as he chases after you and your wails of agony echo throughout the lair for everyone else to hear, sullying the laughter that passed them just moments ago. A series of short-paced refusals is all that sputters and repeats from your trembling lips. Your lungs stagger, stopping some seconds, only to reboot when you need air again. Sob after sob of unbridled misery from your person punches Michelangelo down, stripping him of his optimism bit by bit. There’s no way around it. Either route, death is involved. Lord knows you want to bargain, seek a deeper exploration to see if there’s something - anything - that can be done to give hope but Donnie is rarely wrong if at all.

A plan is made. A horrible, awful plan that you wish to be nothing more than a nightmare you can all wake from. It starts with Donatello forging a doctor's note that you can take to a clinic, so that you can get the abortion pills. The surgical method would be quicker and much less painful but then runs the risk of doctors investigating your mutant fetus and how it came to be. Unfortunately, your resident genius isn’t qualified for such a procedure otherwise he would do it himself. Despite your best efforts to refuse, April and Casey chip in on the costs to help you pay for the medication. In spite of everything, you can at least say that you have good friends by you. Next on the agenda would be to book time off work until, finally, the day arrives. You agree that the best location will be your place: somewhere familiar and more comfortable. The next series of events will be anything but.

For the eight hours that you are cradling your abdomen, changing your pads, throwing up, or incoherent from the painkillers, you are quiet. There's the occasional exchange when your boyfriend asks if you need anything but this much silence between the two of you is unfounded, unnatural. You can barely manage a soothing hand on your shoulder without your entire nervous system convulsing. As if this isn't difficult enough on its own, he can't even hold you and the moment you manage to fall asleep is when Mikey finally cries. He attempts to keep his mouth clamped shut, to not disturb you, but watching over your weary body is the last drop of water in the dam. The scummiest dirt on the Earth must seem like gold compared to him and what he's done to you. He knows what you’d say, what you’ve already said so many times - that this consequence is your shared responsibility but that isn’t fair. The fact that you are suffering this torment isn’t fair. His genetics are the predominant cause of this destruction within you. If he could, he would take your place in a heartbeat.

Lost in his clouded shadow of self-bullying, he doesn’t notice you stirring beside him. Your hazy vision barely manages to make out the hunched body of your lover but his strife is ever-distinct. It’s only when he feels the delicate touch of your fingers on his arm that he snaps out of it. With an abrupt breath drawn, he lowers his widened gaze down at your sluggish self. Guilt trips him up for becoming so absorbed in himself. He forgot where he was for a moment.

His effort to divert with a grin is fruitless. “Sorry, angel-”

“No apologies.” You shush him with an index to his lips and weakly crawl into his lap. “You’re allowed to cry, too.”

His blood-shot eyes meet yours and it’s as though his blues have been stripped of their colour completely. “Look what I’ve done to you.”

“None of that, please,” you whisper, planting a soft kiss on one of his cheeks. The taste of tears coats the tip of your tongue and your thumbs do their best to wipe away what’s left on his face. “We could have never known that it would turn out like this, okay? This isn’t anyone’s fault. Besides, I’m starting to feel better. I reckon the worst of it’s out of the way now.”

Though exhausted, you smile and he returns one of his own as meek as it is. Sodden from the wretch of his downpour, you carefully push his mask off and let your hands ride over the back of his head. You pull him in until his face meets your shoulder. No longer hesitant of his touch, his arms clutch around you and he lets it all go without restraint, safe in your presence.

Much time will need to pass but things can only go up from here. You may not be able to have the family you recently discovered you yearned for but life always has its unique obstacles for each person and relationship. It just takes the will to overcome and know that when one door closes, another opens. After all, there are plenty of kids in the world in need of adoption, right?

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callmelittlebuttercup · 8 months ago

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Peace Offerings Pt. 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Chapter Summary: Joel and Reader set off on their journey. Things start out rocky because of nerves, but once night falls, Joel shows that he's not a complete asshole.

Series Warnings: Slow burn, 18+ Minors DNI, Sexual Themes, Violence, Injuries (depictions of blood, bruising, broken bones), Grumpy!Joel, Minimal depictions of reader's appearance (hair color/length.)

Masterlist

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

Part Two:

I decided not to go to sleep because of my impromptu nap earlier. I couldn’t risk Joel leaving without me. I stayed up going over the route on the map and preparing myself for a journey with a man who I didn’t get a great first impression from. Though I did realize, after learning that his name was Joel, that I’d heard about him before. He was a talented smuggler, had a lot of connections but not many friends, and had no problem killing at the first twitch of trouble. This information made me even less excited to be on the road alone with him. At least I knew he could fight.

The time was getting close to an hour before sunrise, and I was beginning to get nervous that Joel had left without me. I re-checked my bag to make sure I had everything, and then sat on the couch, tapping my fingers on my knee. I began to zone out, but was quickly snapped back to reality at a knock at my door. I stood up, hoisted my heavy backpack onto my shoulder, and took one last look at my apartment. The tattered couch, the chipped table and chairs in the kitchen, and the broken tv in the corner by the window. Wasn’t much, but it was mine. I walked to the door and opened it. Joel was standing there with a backpack hanging off of his shoulder. He greeted me with a “Let’s go.” I nodded and closed the door behind me before following him down the dark hallway.

We stayed silent as we hurried through the deserted streets of the QZ. No noise could be heard except the sound of our light steps on the pavement. We reached the fence. Joel opened up a hole that had been cut in the chain link, and gestured for me to go first. I hurried through, being careful not to get caught on the sharp edges. He climbed through after me and returned to his place in front of me. We scrambled over bricks and ruins of old buildings that had been knocked down. I almost fell when I stepped on a loose rock but I caught myself, and received a disapproving look from Joel. I rolled my eyes as I continued to follow his lead through the rubble.

I froze when I heard a voice call out, “Hey!” My head whirled to see a QZ guard hiding behind a wall and pointing a gun at us. Joel spotted him too and approached slowly. “Turn around and I’ll let you go alive.” The guard said. “Just let us through. We don’t want any trouble.” Joel said calmly. He must’ve known him, because if he hadn’t we would have been shot. Joel leaned in to whisper something to the guard, and pressed a small plastic bag into the palm of his hand. Pills. I watched the exchange, not moving from my place. Joel suddenly seemed angry. His eyes became dark and his eyebrows furrowed. I saw his hand ball into a fist before he slammed the guard into the wall. The guard tried to fight back, but Joel was too strong. He threw him to the ground and began throwing punch after punch, obliterating the guard’s face. He stopped, panting and grunting heavily. My jaw had fallen open and my eyes were glued to him. I was both terrified and intrigued. He stood up off of the ground and began walking ahead of me again as if nothing had happened.“What was that about?” I asked. He kept his head forward and answered, “Nothin’ you need to worry about.” I looked back at the unmoving guard one last time before jogging to catch up with Joel.

I kept my questions to a minimum, seeing as they clearly agitated him. I distracted myself from the tugging thoughts by focusing on the scenery. I hadn’t been outside of the QZ since I was 14, and things had changed drastically. The highways were lined with abandoned and picked over cars, buildings were crumbling, vines covering everything they could. I was pulled from my own little world when I slammed into the back of Joel. “Dammit! Watch where you’re goin’.” He grumbled. “Sorry.” I said as I caught my footing.

I, too, was not making a good impression on Joel. I already seemed clumsy and unfocused. My cheeks burned from embarrassment as I shook out my arms, hoping it would get rid of the funk I was in. I needed to focus, to let him know I could keep up with him on this journey.

I was assuming Joel wanted to get as far away from the QZ as possible before we found a place to rest for the night. So, I kept on despite my back aching from the heavy pack I was wearing and the blisters already forming on my feet.

When we came upon a large building with an abandoned truck outside, Joel paused before pressing against the truck to hide. Once we were sure the coast was clear, we neared the door. “What is this place?” I asked quietly, unable to contain my curiosity. “Museum. Couple guys left a package for me here for the journey.” He muttered back before eyeing the door that had been splattered with fungus spores and vines. My skin crawled, able to guess what was inside. “I’m not going in there.” I blurted. Joel’s eyes snapped to me, “You will if you want to eat or drink for the next few months. Get your gun out.” He demanded before placing his hand on the door and pushing. It made a loud and echoey creaking sound as it slowly opened, revealing a grand lobby that had been retaken by dust, vines, and fungus, just like everything else. There were paintings on the walls and statues that had probably been priceless in the past.

Joel stepped inside and I followed behind him, gun raised in the same position. We swept the large area and found it empty. We continued down a corridor, actively avoiding vines and globs of fungus sprawled before our feet. We came across a number of tables scattered in another large room. They were littered with boxes and cartons. “Firefly campsite.” I said after observing a symbol painted on a canister of oil. Joel nodded. He opened an oil canister and slammed the lid back down. “Dammit.” He cursed loudly. My eyes shot to him. “Fuckin’ package is gone.” I stood, not knowing what to do or how to help.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up when I heard a faint, but familiar sound. My eyes locked onto Joel’s and he whispered, “Shit. Stay behind me.” I obeyed and tiptoed behind him as we neared a stairwell. We cautiously neared the top of the stairs. Joel pressed his back against a glass display case, and I did the same. My eyes were trained on him, waiting for my next command. His chest was heaving and his eyes were shut tight, focusing on the nearing sound of the creature. Soon the clicking noise began to echo itself. There were two. I let out an anxious breath before looking over my shoulder. I jumped when I saw the head which had been torn apart by fungus erupting through. I stumbled backwards into Joel’s chest. I felt his arm wrap around my shoulders as he swung me behind him. My arms connected with the glass case as Joel struggled with the monster. I turned and watched him stab the creature in the head. Breathing heavily, I pushed myself off of the case and lifted my gun back up in front of me.

The noise had brought more clickers our way. As soon as I caught sight of another one, I unloaded a bullet into its head, causing it to fall backwards onto the other clicker following it. I shot that one too, and looked back to Joel who was pinned against a case across the room, fighting another one. He looked as if he had that one under control, so I decided to clear the other room. As I rounded the doorway, I was ambushed by a woman who’s eyes were replaced with the foamy looking fungus. Panic gripped my chest as she threw me to the ground with a shriek. I aimed my gun at her and pulled the trigger. Click. I pulled again, thinking the chamber was jammed. Click. “Shit!” I screamed as she threw her body onto mine. Her fingers dug into my shoulders and her mouth chomped at my face. The spindrils of cordiceps inches from my skin. I pushed as hard as I could, adrenaline in full control of my body. I thought I was done for, but suddenly the woman was ripped off of me and thrown to the side. Joel’s boot landed hard on her head, and the chilling shrieks turned to silence. He turned to me and watched as I rolled to the side and spewed vomit onto the floor.

Once my coughing and heaving stopped, I rolled over and let my head fall backwards. Joel came and crouched next to me, his hand held out to help me sit up. “Thank you,” I breathed as I used him for leverage, “sorry.” I breathed, swallowing my bile. He shook his head, “Don’t be.You’re not bit right?” he asked, a bit of concern peaking through. “Don’t think so.” I answered, still trying to regain my composure. His eyes scanned my body to be sure. When he saw no sign of injury, he grabbed me by the armpit and grunted, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He hoisted me off the ground and hurried down the steps and back out of the door we came in.

After we got far enough away from the building, Joel told me to sit down and have some water. I tried to argue but he, of course, said that it wasn’t up for debate. “Not carryin’ you if you pass out.” He grumbled as he sat down on a wide rock next to a stream. I sat on another rock across from him and took small sips from my canteen, sighing in relief as the water washed away the taste of vomit. “I don’t usually have such a weak stomach, I swear.” I said as I closed the bottle and shoved it back in my pack. Joel swallowed a sip of his own water, then spoke, “You never get used to those things. Even after 20 years…” I nodded, keeping my eyes on the running water of the stream. I wanted to strip my clothes and just walk in. I could imagine how good the cool water would feel on my grimy skin. But Joel’s impatience kept me planted on the rock. “You good?” He asked. I nodded. “M’kay, let’s move.”

When the sun was almost disappearing behind the tree line, Joel suddenly veered off of the path and into the thick woods. I followed him, choosing not to question his decisions so early in the trip. We walked further and further into the woods until we’d come to a small clearing. Joel dropped his pack on the ground and began to pull things out of it. A sleeping bag, tinfoil of jerky, his canteen. My stomach dropped. I left my fucking sleeping bag in my apartment.

I huffed as I sat down. “Better eat. Was a long day on your feet.” Joel said before shoving a piece of jerky into his mouth. I nodded and opened my backpack. Searching for something to use as a pillow or blanket. Anything. I pulled out my brother’s sweatshirt, and folded it up before setting it beside me. Then I took out a ration of Jerky and started eating. “Harvard?” He asked, eyeing the sweatshirt while still chewing his food. “Not me. My brother.” I said quietly. He nodded and focused back on methodically pulling the strips of jerky apart.

Joel lit the small lantern he had in his pack and began to unroll his sleeping bag. I sat there awkwardly fiddling with the strings of the sweatshirt I’d planned on using as a pillow. “Where’s yours?” He asked with a grunt as he sat down on top of the nylon fabric. I pressed my lips together, “Never got one.” I lied. He sighed and laid down. I was glad at the fact that he didn't seem to care. I placed the sweatshirt on the ground behind me, fluffing it up as best I could, and laid my head back. I frowned at the hardness of both the ground and the sweatshirt, but knew I had to face the consequences of my own forgetfulness.

Sleep didn’t come as easily as I needed it to. I laid awake, staring at the stars and trying to convince myself that this trip was worth it. Traveling with a stranger, a frankly terrifying stranger, on foot for thousands of miles just to see if my brother who, get this, left me alone in the QZ to go with the fireflies, was alive. I became angry at myself for making such a rash decision. Part of me was so angry at Matt for leaving me alone in the QZ to fend for myself, but the other, more rational part knew that he wanted me to go with him and I refused. I told him to go without me, but he still left, knowing that his younger sister would have to do whatever she could to survive in that cold, unforgiving city. And here I was, walking thousands of miles, risking my life to find him. I considered packing up and turning back, but life in the QZ wasn’t anything worth turning back for. Maybe, just maybe, I’d find my place somewhere else. If there was somewhere else.

I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. I’d obviously woken up Joel because he groaned and unzipped his sleeping bag. I laid still, not wanting to disturb him any further. I jumped when I saw his body looming over mine, his sleeping bag in his hand. He dropped it on the ground next to me and turned and went to sit on a log not far away. “Uh- Joel.. I.” I stuttered, shocked by his quiet kindness. “Just take it. Don’t argue.” I heard him say sternly. I cautiously straightened out the sleeping bag and slid inside. It was still warm from his body heat. I shuddered at the feeling of comfort washing over me. I felt bad that he’d given me his sleeping bag. He shouldn’t have had to. I was the one who forgot mine. I then realized, he didn’t have to. Maybe he wasn’t such an asshole after all.

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

Author's note:

Hi! This is my first fanfic I've ever posted on here so be nice pls :') I just write for fun but any constructive criticism is welcome. Thanks for reading!! <3

Next Part | Masterlist

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byyourside28 · 2 months ago

Text

(Sometimes)

Matty x Reader

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: suicidal intentions/talks (please take care of yourself)

Summary: Matty finds you on a bridge.

Masterlist

The water staring back at me was basically welcoming me with open arms. Whispering all the right things; that I’d finally have peace, that the sadness would be washed away, that I’d finally be able to breathe.

“Just do it.” I say to myself, looking up to the night sky above me. “Who is going to miss you? Just do it.”

Taking one last, deep breath, I let go of every ounce of hesitation clinging to me. The crisp wind whirls around, nudging me forward with an insistent push. This is it— for me to finally see something through. I glance down at the inky water below; its waves swirl like dark ribbons, crashing against the rugged rocks and weathered metal of the bridge beneath my feet.

I tip just the toe of my foot off the ledge, gasping when I nearly fall over. “Fuck! God damn.” I scream into the nothingness, gripping a hold the railing behind me. “It’s easy, just close your eyes and jump.” I encourage myself, repeating the words over and over in nothing more than a whisper. “And it’ll all be over.”

The waves were like a siren's song comforting my decision. After a few ragged heartbeats, I nod to myself and slowly let go of the railing.

This is it. I’ll finally be okay and everything will just stop.

Just as I expel all the air from my lungs, footsteps catch my attention. My hand grips the railing as I nearly topple over when I look to my right, a silhouette walking towards me with his head down and a lit cigarette between his fingers. The moment his eyes look up, catching mine and focusing on me, he pauses.

The bridge's lights catch his face, his brows furrowed and his lips parted slightly as he watches me. He looks confused for a moment before realization crosses his features and then it’s overtaken by genuine concern.

He opens his mouth to say something but the hand I already have outstretched comes up to silence him. “Don’t. Just go, walk away. Please.”

I hate how broken and pitiful my voice sounds.

“No.” He shakes his head, ignoring my plea to be left alone. “I’m not fuckin’ going anywhere with you up there.”

My grip falters as he takes another few steps, flicking the cigarette onto the pavement beside him. “Oh my god, what are you doing?” I whine as he reaches up and grabs a hold of the railing, hoisting his leg over and then the other, until he's standing beside me.

“Enjoying the view,” He states, not blinking an eye as he wobbles next to me. “Nice night, yeah? A bit fuckin’ chilly though.”

Rubbing my thumb against the metal railing, feeling the coolness seep into my skin. My gaze scans the vast expanse of water before me, and I unconsciously tighten my grip on the railing, knuckles turning white. “I want to be alone.” I whisper, not looking over to the stranger next to me.

“No you don’t.” He declares, crouching down so he can sit down onto the frame and dangle his legs over the edge. “I think that’s the last thing you want.”

“You don’t know me.” I scoff, finally breaking my eyes from the water to look at the man next to me. “You don’t know what I want.”

He pats the space next to him, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “Well, why don’t you tell me then? Maybe I wanna listen.”

A frustrated huff escapes my lips as I shake my head back and forth, the strands of my hair swishing around my face.

“I got nothing but time, sweetheart.”

Frowning at his audacity, I look away from him and shift on my feet, feeling unsteady. “I don’t need a lecture right now, okay? I just need… I just want…” My voice trails off as the weight of my own words suffocates me, the tears threatening to spill over. My grip loosens as I slide down, sitting down onto the cold metal.

“There ya go!” He praises, smiling widely at me.

“I just sat down.” I mutter, avoiding his gaze.

“That’s the first step; and that’s usually the hardest. It’s a big accomplishment, and who gives a flying shit if I’m some stranger you don’t know? I’ll scream it if I have to make you believe me.”

Before I can even respond, he cups his hands around his mouth and screams into the darkness. “She got down! She did it!”

He laughs when I roll my eyes, clapping in encouragement. “All bullshit aside, I’m serious.”

This man barely even knows me. Hell, we’re literally strangers. He doesn’t know shit about anything. But his presence is strangely comforting. I take a deep breath, inhaling the chill of the night air, and finally look at him directly. His eyes meet mine, the warmth in them seeping through the layers of my numb exterior.

“You should go.” My voice wavers slightly, betraying the vulnerability I desperately try to hide. But this stranger beside me feels oddly familiar yet so distant at the same time, like a piece of a puzzle trying to find its place. I don't know what led him to this bridge tonight, why he chose to intervene in a moment that felt like my final one.

He chuckles softly, running a hand through his unruly hair. "Nah, I think I'll stick around for a bit longer. Enjoy this beautiful night, and talk with a pretty girl, what more could I ask for?” He leans closer, and I feel the heat emanating off of his body as I try my best to ignore him.

“So talk. What do you want?” He asks. His fingers lightly brush against the top of my knee, and I cringe, moving slightly away from him.

“Nothing,” I say, hoping he gets the message that this isn’t about him. I gaze at him, observing the twitch of his eyebrows and the way he clenches and unclenches his jaw. He removes his hand from my knee and leans back against the railing, releasing a heavy sigh.

He reaches behind his ear with slender fingers and extracts a cigarette. “Look, you don’t have to talk if you don’t wanna. But I’m not leaving until you do.” He fumbles in his pocket with one hand, while the other holds a cigarette. As he lights it, the flame dances on the end of the cigarette, surrounded by swirling smoke. He inhales deeply and exhales a slow stream of smoke into the air.

“You won’t regret telling me, s’promise.” He smiles reassuringly again, and I stare back at him warily.

We fall into a comfortable silence after that, except for the occasional crackle of thunder. I look up at the sky, a blanket of thick grey clouds blocking out any sign of stars.

Suddenly, the stranger speaks, and I almost flinch back from surprise. “What’s your name?” With each word, a plume of smoke escaped his lips, and his intense stare never wavered.

I hold his gaze for a moment, trying to decipher the emotions behind his eyes. Finally, I give in and open my mouth to offer my name.

His eyes softens, and the corner of his eyes crinkle with amusement as he turns his head slightly to give me a better view of his face. “Matty.”

I hum in response, glancing back out towards the water. The wind blows gently around the two of us, rustling our hair and pulling our clothes slightly as it goes. I can hear him breathing quietly as he lights and takes another drag from his cigarette.

“Do you always smoke this much, Matty?” I ask, turning my head so that I can look at him.

He shrugs nonchalantly and blows the smoke towards the sky. “Do you always feel like this?”

‘Feel like this’—as in, ‘feel sad, depressed, angry or scared’, or, ‘feel numb,’ or, ‘feel empty,’? Or, ‘feel broken, lost, worthless, unwanted, alone, unloved,’?

My mind wonders and I can feel Matty's eyes never leaving me. It's as if he's studying every twitch in my expression, every flicker of emotion that crosses my face. I take a deep breath, the cold air stinging my lungs, and decide to be honest with this stranger who has somehow become a lifeline in the darkness.

And it was almost like he knew that.

“Sometimes,” I mumble, staring down at my lap. There’s silence, but not awkward silence like most people would expect.

I can hear Matty take another drag of his cigarette, the embers glowing brightly in the darkness. He doesn't press for more information, understanding the weight of my words even in their simplicity. The wind picks up, causing the water below to ripple softly.

“I think…I think you should go, Matty.”

He flicks the cigarette butt, watching the glowing embers disappear into the darkness below. “And let you kill yourself?”

“It’s just…it’s hard.” I say, my voice quieter than before.

“Being a person?” His voice is soft, understanding, and tinged with sadness. I nod my head, not trusting myself to speak. “It can be, but…” Matty says with a faint smile, trying to impart some kind of bullshit wisdom upon me. “It’s part of being alive—surviving in this world.”

As I turn to face him, the dim light from the streetlamp catches his face. I can see the pain etched into every line on his face. “That sounds like a shitty way to live, Matty,” I say, looking away, my voice trembling with emotion.

He doesn't respond, but I can feel his steady gaze still on me as we sit on the edge of the bridge, our feet dangling over the dark waters below. Despite not knowing each other, it's comforting, in a way, to know that he's here beside me.

Matty chuckles, “Yeah it is but we've gotta try.”

#matty healy angst #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fic #matty healy x reader #the 1975 #matty healy fanfic #matty healy x you

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myillusions · 2 years ago

Text

I Saw You In A Dream (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Summary: After being ambushed by a group of raiders, you are gravely injured, testing the limits of your life. In torment, it’s dauntingly proven to Joel that without you, his light, he doesn't know how to cope.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: HEAVY angst, death of reader, blood, wound description, fluff, more angst (this is just a buttload of angst tbh), cursing, infected, canon typical violence

A/N: ahhhh ok ok i honestly had so much bloody fun writing this omg. i wont even lie writing angst is a BLAST and for what!! again tysm all of u for the amount of love on Home here's another oneshot bc why not i hope u all enjoy and thank u to everyone who reads! bless u all <33

An owl; a bird which gives an omen of death with its hoot. Joel should’ve taken it as a warning that night. He curses himself every day for not listening intently for it; constantly wishing for a way to go back to the time before it was too late. To the time before he heard the light chatter of perturbed Jackson townsfolk as they flooded their way to the front entrance gates.

In some way, Joel already knew. You had left on your patrol early that morning, before the sun had even begun to make its venture to haul itself above the distant hillocks; and had yet to return, even as navy blue and stygian black clawed at the sky above, drowning the sun downwards revoltingly along with Joel’s hammering heart. He already had that nagging thought which creeped its way to the forefront of his mind maliciously with each movement. As he swerved and shoved his way through the crowd, the only thing that highlighted your physique set upon the horse was the dim lighting of the flickering flames confined within glass, sitting as streetlights and the scintillating reflection of the moon. You were not alone, sitting behind Tommy on the saddle as he directed the horse through the gathered, his own hands smeared scarlet with the evidence of your pained expression. Your head was slung forwards with exasperation, a palm wrapped firmly around your torso.

Joel forced his way to the head of the throng, coming to assist with hoisting you off from the horse and laying you down onto a make-shift stretcher weaved with a multitude of maple leaves against the material in attempt to provide comfort; but it did not serve to calm Joel’s ragged breathing as his hands came to cup your cheeks, searching your dazed appearance mixed with pale skin, your eyes giving their best brawl to remain open.

“Look at me, baby. It’s okay. Look at me.” Joel tried desperately, seeking to keep you conscious. Your mouth opened for a moment like you were going to try and speak, but then two people were gripping the wood pieces connected to the bed, heaving you upwards and towards the Jackson infirmary. As you were lifted Joel’s hands slid down from your face, much to his disapproval. He began to kickstart after you until a hand was placed against his shoulder, abruptly pausing him in his steps. Joel whirled his head around, his brows furrowed, going to shove the intrusion away, before he was met with Tommy’s aggrieved guise.

“It’s not good, Joel.” Tommy warned, his head tilting slowly. Joel went to respond but didn’t trust his own voice at that moment, so he just roughly turned away, storming after you.

Once Joel had shoved past the doors to the makeshift hospital and gotten to the room in which you were located, he immediately perched himself at your bedside, hands running forth to securely grip yours. Joel went to finally examine you for the first time, his stomach churning sickeningly as his gaze settled upon the profound wound stretched along the side of your torso, clearly struck by a sharp-edged knife. The gash was illuminated with deep crimson, and blood emanated persistently.

He shook his head to clear the odious sight from his glare, instead directing it up to your eyes, which were already firmly planted on him. Something unnamed glistened in the cavernous hue of them, as though you were seeing him for the first time; or the last.

Joel couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze from you, too frightened that you may crumble beneath his hold if he did, even as the only doctor of Jackson, John, broke through into the room hurriedly; coming to inspect you, with hushed inquires being passed through the few in the room. Joel caught on to the fact that your patrol was ambushed by raiders, and it caused a tint of vexed red to forsake his vision.

Then, you began to shake; as an agonised cry ripped through your trachea, your eyesight blurring with ample tears. Your head shook vigorously as you blinked up towards Joel, hands desperately trying to squeeze his tighter, though slipping from the quantity of blood smeared against your flesh.

“It hurts.” You sobbed out through a harsh inhale, head falling forwards with exertion and Joel felt himself physically deflate with the demoralised edge to your voice.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Joel urged, shaking your palms against his until your chin lifted back up to face his watered gaze once again, “Just look at me, baby.”

You sniffled gratingly, your next words coming out rasped as your throat dried with trepidation, “I’m scared.”

Joel frowned laboriously, elevating a palm from your own to press it impetuously against the side of your face, his thumb swiping away the tears that had collected on your cheek.

“I know, sweetheart. I know. It’s going to be okay.” Joel promised warily, his gaze flickering over towards where John was collecting his limited supplies, before he brought it back to your distressed face.

“It’s going to be okay.” Joel reaffirmed, if not more for himself. He pressed his palm closer towards your jaw when your eyes began to flutter with warning of falling unconscious, his gaze widening as he began to ramble out assertions to try and keep you awake.

You listlessly and crookedly smiled over towards Joel as your eyesight blurred in from the edges, creating a tunnel-like vision directed towards Joels panicked optics. Your brain crepitated, cutting off any hearing obtrusively; but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you peered up, hyper fixating on the deep mahogany of Joel’s eyes, swimming with flecks of a colour much adjacent to coffee beans, which you found ironic. Joel had always loved coffee.

You remembered him noting that he had a fondness for coffee on the first time you met. You were situated in the mess hall, sitting at one of the back corner tables, unaccompanied. This wasn’t because you were lonely, no; it was because you currently had a book planted in your lap and were earnestly invested in whatever was on the pages, gravely turning each crinkled off-white page.

“Coffee?” A smooth voice interrupted your reading, causing your head to jerk up with furrowed brows. A man stood there, with a peppered-grey beard and unruled brunette hair; you recognised him almost instantaneously. Joel Miller. He’s Tommy’s brother, from what you had heard; which wasn’t a lot. He mostly kept to himself, and you didn’t dare to intrude on his personal space. Though admittedly, you had always had a piqued interest for the brooding man.

“What?” You gawped up at him, dumbfounded.

Joel cracked an amused grin at your blundering manner, gesturing towards the alabaster mug full of dark amber liquid set on the table.

“What you’re drinking. Is it coffee?” Joel inquired.

You shook your head promptly, tongue clicking discreetly. “Oh. No. Tea.”

Joel grunted, coming to settle in the seat on the opposite side of the wooden table, placing his own mug filled with his drink of choice down. His brusque manner caught you off-guard, honestly, but you were open to it; especially when he spoke next.

“I’m more of a coffee person myself.” Joel rolled his shoulder backwards to relax his posture. An animated smile lifted your expression as your nose wrinkled with distaste, and it caused Joel’s eyebrows to shoot upwards.

“What? Y’ don’t like coffee?” You shook your head, and Joel gave a dramatic scoff of faux offence, placing his palms down against the wood to elevate himself back to his feet, “Well, I don’t think this will work out then-“

“No, no!” You chirped through a boisterous laugh, reaching towards him over the table to place your hand atop his own, coaxing him to sit back down, “You just got here.”

Joel chuckled blithely, settling back down into the seat, yet he didn’t make any actions to remove your palm from the back of his. He seemed to analyse you rigorously for a moment, before he tilted his head, “Joel.”

You blinked with incredulity, retracting your hand to place it back into your lap. You introduced yourself composedly, even if your heartbeat was pulsating rapidly enough to give even a talented gunman whiplash. Joel tested your name out against his tongue for a moment, before he gave a nod of commendation.

“You’re Tommy’s brother, right?” You asked with a tilt of your head and newfound attentiveness. He seemed startled at your question, his arms raising to cross along his chest to comfortably situate himself.

“I am.” Joel confirmed.

“I don’t wish to intrude, I’m sorry- but I heard you came here with a girl, is that true?” You tried, curiosity getting the better hold of you, peeking over towards Joel, who sat in a rather stand-offish manner; protective, you guessed.

“Yes.”

“I haven’t got the chance to meet her yet, unfortunately.” You said gingerly, internally whacking yourself in your face for the idiotic inquiry; clearly, he wouldn’t leap towards the chance to talk about a close one with someone he just met, not in this society. It was far too perilous.

“I’ll have to introduce you both then.” Joel answered to your surprise; and you couldn’t hold off the exuberant smile that lifted your cheeks, which made Joel chuckle faintly.

“So, you’re both liking Jackson, then?” You hummed optimistically.

“Better than out there.” Joel replied gruffly, and you nodded your concurrence with a grimace.

“I’ve seen you around-“ Joel started, before he interrupted himself with a clear of his throat, “You been in Jackson long?”

You smiled gently, nodding punctually, “Almost a year now. I feel comfortable in calling it home now.” Which was true, the solace the Jackson walls have given you in your time of being here have provided such comfort, wrapping you in a warm blanket of dependability, and you were so appreciative of everyone involved.

You and Joel kicked it off almost straight away. Conversation was a bit tense to begin with, but both of your precautionary demeanours soon diminished with time. You discovered that Joel was actually remarkably humorous as much as he was bashful, and you swore the entire time he could undeniably see the shade of red flourishing your cheeks.

Joel rapidly learned that you were the epitome of luminosity. It seemed that wherever life decided to plant you, you always bloomed with grace. It never failed to amaze Joel. He would often grow timid whenever you caught him staring, trying to memorise each and every curve of your profile. God, how he adored you.

He never made any sort of advance in your relationship, remaining diffident and reclused with his touches and words, until five months after meeting you.

You had both been appointed on the outlook patrol together, and Joel remembered being embarrassingly rapturous about it. You had both just reached the designated spot, advancing the latter and discarding your bags by the dusty fireplace. You moved outside onto the balcony to curl your palms over the metal railing, chin lifting as you drew in an extensive breath, simply enjoying the fleeting moment of peace you managed to capture upon the higher level.

Joel had come to a stop as your effulgent hair lightly oscillated, swinging with the smooth rhythm of the passing zephyr. Joel didn’t believe he had ever seen someone look so deeply peaceful since the beginning of the end, and it stole his breath away unexpectedly in the form of you. You, casted in the illumination of the sun’s rays; and him, bordered in the gloomy shadows created by the roof of the outlook.

He didn’t plan to, but the words more-so tumbled from his lips before he could even have a thought of capturing them,

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The statement made you fall stiff, head revolving around briskly to face him, your glistening eyes held wide. He felt dread cascade against him in a barrelling motion, his mouth running dry.

Joel blinked, shifting on his weight as his shoulders rolled forwards subconsciously, stumbling over his words as he attempted to sought up an excuse, “Well, I- what I mean is-“

He hadn’t noticed you taking a multitude of brisk steps towards him after the moment of revelation dispersed, approaching him until you were only a few mere breaths away, crossing the threshold the sun made between the joyous and dismal. You were almost touching.

Joel’s words died in his throat as he took a leap to connect his eyeline with yours; and what he was met with was awe and tenderness, causing a chill to run along his spine swiftly.

Joel felt his eyes flutter downwards to peer towards your full lips briefly, until they returned to your eyes once again, fleetingly. You both stayed like that, with dense breaths, until Joel spoke again. He had shifted forwards a bit more without noticing now, so close that even an inch of movement from either of you would press you both together.

“What I mean is,” Joel repeated steadily, his gaze searching yours inquisitively, “I didn’t expect to get this attached to you.”

Joel wasn’t even positive he had a heartbeat anymore with the way it was beating so rapidly against his ribcage and with how you drew out a shaky breath, a hand snaking up to be placed soothingly against his neck. Joel watched as your gaze clouded with endearment, and he didn’t take the time to reconsider his actions before he was swooping forth, capturing his lips with yours.

You sighed against his mouth, pressing forwards more, and the kiss escalated passionately. Joel’s hands flew down to your waist, delicately tracing the curves of your hips. He grunted against your lips as your mouths moved against each other, connecting you both completely and intimately for the first time. Joel felt his lungs burning against his chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to tear away from you, chasing after your lips more after every movement.

You keened against his mouth, before you murmured something. Joel finally pulled back, breaths intermingling heavily as you both caught your breath, eyes gradually sliding back open to peer into the others. You raised a palm to stretch it along his chest, playing with the buttons of his shirt.

“I think I’m falling for you too.” You murmured the confession, almost unintelligible; but he caught on. He smiled contentedly, leaning back in to recapture your lips with his fervently.

Joel was always in awe of you. Whilst being graceful and empathetic, you were also insanely valorous and proficient. You were a blazing forest fire, and Joel was a freezing man wondering the wilderness. He never wished to control your flame, only wanted to be near it.

He had uncovered that you were the kind of person to persistently say ‘I got this’, even when tears clouded your eyes. You proved this on the day that you, Joel and the rest of the patrol you were with encountered a lot of infected.

You, Joel and three others had been tasked with clearing out an area by the border of Jackson which had been reported to have been flooded with newfound infected that were drawn in. Upon arriving to the worn-out metal shed, it hadn’t taken long for you all to be ambushed by a group of infected.

It was a whirlwind of reverberating gunshots, mixed with the caterwauls of both human and infected. Joel, in a frenzy, after taking down a particularly stubborn runner, had whirled around to search for you desperately; fear striking along his veins.

Then he spotted you, stuck in the midst of it. Like a spotlight had shone down from the sky, past the tinned roof. The perfect combination of grandeur and violence, shooting adrenaline through your figure with every left jab, swipe of the leg, kick, right hook and shoot of your pistol. You fought with such vigour and persistence to protect your patrol mates; Joel was so eminently astonished of the sight that the figures moving towards him with malice were scarcely indistinguishable. Joel found a relief in allowing himself to focus on the task at hand after seeing you in the difficult situation, in complete confidence that you were able to handle yourself.

Joel shook you lightly to bring you back to your conscious, and he’s positive he’s trapped in a nightmare. John was gawping down at the substantial wound, having assessed the damage and come to a dreadful conclusion. Joel all but dismissed him from his sight, primarily focusing on you as your eyes slowly fluttered back open to face him, although hazy. You gave a dazed smile towards him as his appearance flooded back into your sight, your head tilting to the side, until the pain dived back in, striking you in the gut like a bullet.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line tightly to try and stifle the pain. Joel could do nothing but look on with apprehension. You then reached out for him desperately, an inhale breaking past your windpipe.

“Hold me. Please. Joel- Hold me-“ You choked out, gripping onto his shirt to tug him forwards pitifully. He hesitated, but then complied, twisting around to grab the nearest chair and drag it as close as physically possible towards the bed. He would’ve laid down with you, but he didn’t wish to disturb the wound anymore, so instead he wrapped his arm around the back of your head to cradle you against him, his cheek pressed right up to yours and his chest against the side of the bed.

He rocked back and forth slightly, murmuring emboldening words, “It’s okay, baby. I got you.” He raised his head to peer into your own eyes, his free hand coming back to squeeze your palm faintly, in reassurance, “You got this.”

You seemed to smile bemusedly towards that, as you tilted her head closer to him to seek out his warmth, beginning to shake as a honed chill ran along you, turning your fingertips frigid.

You gave a shallow weep, your mouth opening hopelessly; you were trying to say something. Joel exhaled unsteadily, leaning in towards you as you attempted to make out a few simple words.

You blinked up towards Joel as tears cascaded down your cheeks, but it wasn’t from the pain anymore. You shakily raised a hand, before delicately pressing your raw palm against his cheek. Joel forced himself to meet your gaze as his own significantly watered, multiple of his own teardrops littering his skin.

You endeavoured to get your words out, “I- I- I lo-“ But eventually you abandoned the idea as your throat tightened, cutting you off.

Joel broke now, his bottom lip wobbling until a cry tumbled through. “I love you, sweetheart. Fuck, I love you.”

You swiped your thumb over his cheekbone with an affectionate yet pained smile, your eyes cautiously slipping closed. Joel continued to rock back and forth, not breaking his gaze from you once as he muttered miserably.

“Please, baby, please. I love you. Please, god, darling.” Your eyes completely shut now, and your hand was the last to go limp as it fell from Joel’s face, planting itself by your side. Your chest stilled and the colour drained from your face completely; taking with it the tender-hearted and spirited woman he once knew, “Please.”

Joel prevailed in his swaying, his head drooping to hang low as he muttered nothings into the still air, not allowing the sight before him to candidly present itself.

Though, as soon as a hand landed on his shoulder; it brought Joel down to reality and sent him off the edge all at once. He felt as though he’s just stepped off a cliff, barrelling hundreds of feet into the dark ravine of the bitter currents that awaits below, swallowing him up completely as he fights against ocean currents, and then spitting him out to lay lifeless on the coarse sandy beaches.

Joel leans forwards as a striking pain wretches through his stomach, an agonising wail tearing past his windpipe and crawling its way out of his mouth. With the lamentation of the unveiling scene, the person who had pressed against his shoulder rapidly vacated the premise, leaving just Joel and the limp physique of you in the room. It happened too quick. Joel presses closer towards you, even with your body now not sanctioning the amiability and warmth he’s accustomed to.

Joel gave irrepressible cries which sent his spine forwards, until his body eventually gave out on him, and his arms untangled from you, sending his knees plummeting towards the marble floor, the chair dragging backwards with a deafening screech. Joel couldn’t hear, an ear-piercing ringing resounding through his head. Tunnel vision spiralled so rapidly in his vision that he had to shut his eyes tightly and lift his hands to harshly rake through his hair, ripping at his scalp. He curled himself downwards, his broad shoulders trembling whilst he wept.

For all the time that Joel had been familiar with you; you had been the symbol of radiance, your benign words spreading consolation through anyone fortunate enough to receive it. Your determination transcended further than anyone Joel had ever had the pleasure to meet, and your overwhelming fierceness and vehemence brought a magnificent juxtaposition to your thoughtfulness.

That light of yours had shuddered away to a dim glow, before disappearing completely; and Joel had witnessed it all. That will forever be his torment. To see a rare luminous light of this flawed and run-down world flicker to a formidable and devastating darkness.

And now, Joel is involuntarily enforced to remember you for longer than he had known you, and that is the most significant torture of it all.

"When death takes my hand, I will hold you with the other, and promise to find you in every lifetime." i saw you in a dream - The Japanese House

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