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rosepascal · 3 months

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Blossom (Hanahaki AU) || Joel Miller x Reader

summary: Hanahaki- is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love.

warnings: Hanahaki disease, angst, happy ending, hurt/comfort, not so one sided love, blood, mentions of death/dying, Joel is bad at feelings.

a/n: I've been meaning to write a hanahaki fic for so long and its finally here! I hope you enjoy, I might write more with the other pedro boys with different endings >:)

You can't do this anymore. Everything's become too painful. Walking, talking, breathing. You've been shot, stabbed, punched, but somehow this was the worst pain you've ever felt. Maybe because it's coupled with heartbreak and a sense of unending loneliness.

Not to be morbid but you often thought how you were going to die. Sickness maybe. Lots of people in the QZ got sick. Maybe you'd push it too far with a FEDRA soldier one day. Or maybe a clicker would get you.

After all the times you've come close you're surprised it hasn't happened yet. Or raiders. You and Joel have come across them before and they aren't friendly. Even on your trek to Jackson you faced death multiple times and still made it out alive.

So who would have thought it was from an incurable bullshit disease that you've reached your end. It's funny if you really think about it. Survive a world ending apocalypse to get taken out by unrequited love.

You've hid it well honestly. No one has really suspected anything except for Maria. She's a smart woman and clocked something was wrong immediately. You denied it over and over but when she caught you bleeding from the mouth with flower petals around your feet, well you couldn't lie your way out of that one.

You swore her to secrecy and though reluctant she agreed. She's been helping you with pain medication. Keeping it under the table so no one else found out.

Sadly, it seems your time has run out. The bathroom door is locked and though you feel a sense of guilt for dying so suddenly like this, there's not much you can do now. You can barely lift your arms so getting up to go find help is out of the question. Not that anyone could help you anyways. The ground is bloody and littered with petals that have been growing inside of you for so long.

Hanahaki was rare but deadly. The only cure at this point was for your feelings to be returned. The surgery is out of the question with the state of Jacksons medical facilities. You'd given up hope long ago of Joel ever loving you the way you love him. Even as you sit against the cold lonely walls, dying, you manage to smile at the thought of the man. He was the cause of all your pain but he's worth every second.

You know that love and relationships aren't as easy as they used to be. With Joel he won't even think about the idea of feeling that way about someone. He doesn't have time. It's pointless. It's weakness. That's what he's always believed and though you've seen the cracks of that logic with Ellie. It's different. With her Joel sees a daughter. He doesn't have room for romance anymore. You desperately wish you were enough to change his mind. Not just because you're dying, but because you know he's worthy of love. He's fiercely protective, loyal, and perhaps that is his way of loving. Or maybe it's just his nature.

Even knowing all that about him, you still fell in love with him. Mostly you fell in love with his eyes. Those sad brown eyes that carry so much burden. So much sadness and rage. The eyes truly reveal all to you and deep inside he's just a broken man who's lost so much. His touches can be gentle and though he can't always express his feelings, he tries with you. Tries is the key word but hey, that's still something.

You wonder what will happen when you're gone. If Joel will be sad or if he'll move on and accept it. Will he care? You shake those thoughts from your head. Now isn't the time for that. It's becoming harder and harder to breathe. The energy in your body is draining slowly and you just don't have it in you to keep fighting.

Closing your eyes you imagine a world where Joel did love you. Where maybe the world wasn't horrible and the two of you could just, live. Maybe you'd move in to his house in Jackson with Ellie. He would make coffee in the morning and you'd make him a lunch. You could enjoy life together. Go see a movie, go on patrol. Go on dates where he gives you his jacket to keep you warm and where he kisses you whenever you ask. As you fade into darkness it becomes so real. A soft smile on your face as the pain floats away.

BANG

Your sweet daydreams are interrupted by a terribly annoying sound.

"Open this damn door now!" His voice is warbled as you aren't completely conscious anymore but you think it's Joel. Maybe you're hallucinating more than you thought.

"Fuck!" You hear him shout and suddenly the door swings open.

Joel is breathing raggedly as he breaks down the bathroom door. His eyes wide with panic as he takes in the horror scene in front of him. He drops to his knees and cups your face in his hands. Your eyes flutter closed and Joel panics more.

"Hey! Keep 'em open okay." He shakes your head until you open them. Letting out a groan of pain.

"You're fuckin' stupid you know that." He's angry, upset, terrified. How could you do this to him? To Ellie? How could you hide this from them? Your life on the fucking line and you refuse to tell him. He has to hear it from a rushed and apologetic confession from Maria.

"J..Joel?" You croak out. The pain gets worse as you try and sit up.

"Don't move." He commands as he scrambles for something, anything to help. He doesn't know what to do. What can he do? Blood drips from your mouth and he wipes it away.

"Tell me how to fix this." He tilts your head up and your eyes barely focus.

You frown as you see those brown eyes so distressed. There's nothing he can do. He knows that, he has to know that. You hate seeing him so upset. With all your strength you raise your hand and rest it on his. Shaking your head softly and trying your best to comfort him. Joel is completely and utterly helpless. It's a horrible feeling. Your eyes close and he starts to panic.

"Hey! Come on! There has to be somethin'" Joel lightly slaps your face but your eyes stay closed. He can feel your pulse slowing and he wants to puke.

"Don't leave me, please you can't do this to me!" He shouts. It's not fair. He's lost so much he can't lose you too. Not after everything you've been through together.

"Please..." Joel begs quietly as your hand starts to go limp.

You're still breathing but barely. He squeezes his eyes shut as rests his forehead against yours. Too fucking late. Too slow. If he had gotten here quicker, noticed something sooner, then maybe he could have done something. Rage builds inside of him as he silently begs for you to wake up.

"Please, I'm sorry baby. You can't leave me. I..." He thinks and thinks. Of what you mean to him, putting aside his fears, his doubt. You're his most trusted ally, a confidant, a partner, a friend. You're so much more.

"I love you." It's barely above a whisper as he admits it to himself for the first time and to you.

His rough hands tilt your head up as he kisses you. Every missed I love you, all the lost time, everything the two of you could have had, it's packed into his passionate kiss. He's sorry, he loves you. As he pulls back he waits, was he too late? Suddenly your eyes open and he tenses up. Slowly the pain fades and it feels like you can breathe again.

"Do that again, please." You ask.

Joel nearly cries as you smile at him. Without hesitation he smashes his lips onto yours. He's not gentle anymore as he mentally needs to know that you're truly okay. He feels your hands weave into his hair, pulling on him to be closer. He hears the small noises you make and your heart beating in your chest. You're alive.

"Took you long enough." He gently caresses your face and kisses your forehead. Too relieved that you're still here to care about anything else. He loves you.

He loves you.

And he won't ever let you forget it.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller angst

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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AITA for letting my dog correct (nip) my niece to prove a point and refusing to punish him?

I own an ex-K9 called Biggles. Biggles is impeccably trained, a total gentleman when you're not being an asshole to him, but also has no time for your bullshit. He'll tolerate a lot more hassle from the younger kids in our family, but if they're allowed to persist in bullying him, he will correct them, just like he would the adults of the family.

Mostly Biggles will just push them over and walk away. Its his way of saying to leave him alone. Sometimes he'll bark loudly, a kind of 'fuck off now' bark. At the very extreme, he'll give them a tiny little warning nip on the arm or hand.

(Biggles has only ever nip corrected kids twice in all the years I've had him. Once when my cousin thought it was 'cute' to dump her toddler right on top of Biggles and let him rip at his fur and try to bite at his face, and once when my nephew was having a tantrum, Biggles tried to snuggle up to him to soothe him and my nephew hit him in the face.)

I firmly believe in learning how your pet communicates and respecting their reasonable boundaries. To me, if you're yanking on a dog's tail and ignoring everyone warning you to stop and you get a nip to the back of the hand for it, that's a valid consequence of your actions and you've just learned to respect the dog enough not to try pulling its tail out of its spine.

(This likely seems unfathomable to a lot of you, but I must clarify that Biggles isn't some hyper-reactive aggressive, dangerous dog like my sister thinks. He will more than happily play around with the little ones, faux wrestle with them, let them paw all over him and fuss at him, ect. He loves children, they're his babies. He does not love being in pain, and if the person causing it will not respect him or me enough to listen to my warnings, I believe they earn it when he warns them too.)

Anyway. Like you might've guessed, yanking on his tail was what my niece was doing at the beer-and-barbeque this weekend. I told her not to. My parents told her not to. Even my sister half-assedly suggested 'maybe Biggles wants to play a different game.' Biggles got up and moved away from her twice and she followed him both times to 'keep playing.'

My entire family knows how Biggles works. I warned my sister Biggles wouldn't tolerate what was happening. My sister told me I shouldn't own such a dangerous, unpredictable dog and he should be put down if he can't handle some 'rough love from a kid.'

(This was not rough love. This was my niece literally ripping at his tail thinking his pain responses were funny.)

I didn't want to cause a scene or subject Biggles to further harassment so I decided just once I'd cave and take Biggles inside so he could get some peace and I could enjoy my burnt ends without my sister squealing in my ear about being cruel to her child by telling her off.

Unfortunately, Biggles' patience ran out before I could make my way over. My niece yanked at his tail again, hard enough that it actually jolted him on the grass, and Biggles whipped around and nipped at her hand. I got to see her hand afterward and there was just a little red mark, no blood or broken skin. He'd just pinched her a little.

My niece screamed bloody murder like he'd taken her hand off and my sister screamed bloody murder about my 'vicious animal.' It devolved into a massive family-wide argument against my sister because my entire family knows its just basic respect and kindness not to cause an animal pain deliberately, and that its my sister's fault for not listening to anyone when we all told her and my niece not to hurt Biggles.

My sister stormed off and has since been blowing up the entire family demanding that Biggles be put down. She's threatened to call the cops, animal control, you name it. None of us are worried about that. There wasn't even a proper mark left on her hand and Biggles will pass any behavioral test with flying colors, but my sister is giving everyone grief and is refusing to attend any family events if Biggles will be there.

My dad is firmly on my side, but my mom is imploring me to just fake apologise to get some peace back. When I recounted the story to my colleague this morning, he said she got what she earned, but also why would I bring Biggles to an event I knew a disrespectful little shit of a kid was at?

I don't feel like an asshole in terms of allowing my dog to establish his boundaries. In my and my family's opinion pets are their own entities and should be treated with belonging and respect when part of a family. Its also just common sense not to cause an animal pain for the fun of it.

However, I'm also very aware that getting nipped by a dog, especially at such a young age, can be catastrophic. My niece could be terrified of dogs for the rest of her life, and while I don't feel guilty she got corrected, I do feel somewhat guilty that I didn't intervene sooner and have possibly set her up for failure in the future. And I do feel like an asshole for letting it get to that point, but it did all happen pretty quickly.

All things considered I do love my niece, she's family, she just gets away with murder because my sister thinks being a little girl is an automatic pass to do whatever you want without consequence.

I've probably painted Biggles out in a real bad light here, but I can assure you that in general Biggles is the perfect family dog. He's loving, playful, he tries to share his kibble with everyone at dinner, he helped us teach my uncle's puppy tricks and how to behave and potty outside ect.

So I guess I'm really asking am I the asshole in this situation, as the one responsible for Biggles?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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jade-jini · 6 months

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“I’m the Drama”

Kim Minjeong x Reader

Prompt: Jeongie showering after having nasty sex with her ex who she swore she would never ever be back to but she can’t help it ‘cause the pussy too good. “Even when you broke me, you’re too much of a good fuck to let it go.”

Genre: Smut, Angst

TW: toxic exes, mentions of cheating(but who knows). emotional issues. Mostly hate sex.

If Minjeong had to use one word to describe pleasure, it would be easy: you.

“Fuck.. y/n~” Minjeong moaned, grabbing your hair tightly and keeping you closer to her cunt (not like you would try to get away anyways) “I’m gonna fucking come.. Hmm fuck don’t stop…~” she begged in that cute high pitched tone she had when she was on the verge of her orgasm. You knew it very well, you’ve heard it a million times. You gave the girl what she wanted, and moved your tongue so fast until she was making a delicious mess in your mouth “oh my fuckin godddd…” she loudly cried while reaching her climax for who knows what time in that night already.

Once she calmed down, she looked at you, and you looked at her too, quietly making such intense eye contact, neither of you willing to let go. To let go of several things…

“Is this the part where you send me home ‘cause you promised to never let me sleep in your bed again?” You asked her, making her clicked her tongue and roll her eyes, grabbing you by the shoulders and pushing you to the bed now. She had you on your back while getting ready between your legs yet again.

“Shut the fuck up and moan for me, y/n.” she ordered and you were ready to obey, not without teasing her first tho.

“You know, that’s confusing. Do you want me to moan or do you want me to shut up baby?” And making you gasp, she grabbed you by the neck as soon as the pet name left your mouth, ‘cause hearing you calling her anything like that after your breakup felt like a dagger of memories to her heart.

“You know what? yes. I prefer if you just shut the fuck up.” She said, grabbing her own panties and shoving them into your mouth. You wanted to complain but fuck it, you were in no position (plus you loved having her panties in your mouth don’t Fuckin act funny). You felt the girl’s fingers massaging your clit, while her face showed a frown as she focused her eyes on your pussy. Seeing her so concentrated was something you always found so hot.

However, you knew she was doing her best not to look into your eyes, and that saddened you. Unlike before when she’d love looking at them and express her love through her endearing stare and soft smiles, now she wanted to avoid being too aware that it was you, her ex, the one that hurt her, who she was fucking. Minjeong knew nobody would turn her on like you, but if she thought too much about anything, it would just freak her out. Too much pain she tried not to process.

If Minjeong had to use one word to describe pain, it would also be easy: you.

“You cheated!” she accused once again, dressed in an oversized shirt.

“oh my goshhh…” you left out in a stressed sigh while finishing putting your shirt back on “not this again. I did NOT cheat, we were not together anymore. Just get. Over it.” you remarked every word, you were tired of this. You’re not even sure what exactly triggered this argument again this time, but it never took too much for Minjeong to get so worked up when you were there. The plan was to simply go home after hooking up, trying not to argue but of course, you guys failed again. Like always.

“You didn’t even wait a fucking week! I fucking caught you while picking up my stuff you horny piece of lying shit.” she said while pushing your shoulders.

“But it was not cheating! Jesus, minjeong, YOU broke up with me. You broke up with me because you said I turned distant and instead of talking to me, YOU alone decided to end our relationship. Why are you acting like I’m the villain?!”

“Because you are! And what? Am I supposed to believe you didn’t know her from before? That you weren’t fucking before we broke up?!” you really hated her tone and the assumptions she kept making over and over again.

“Think whatever you want, Minjeong.”

“yeah of course I’m gonna think whatever I want, because you know it’s true. Fucking cheater.”

“Don’t Fucking talk to me in that tone, Minjeong.” you warned her, clenching your jaw.

“Or what,y/n? What the fuck are you gonna do?” she challenged you, her face too close to yours. You were looking at each other like you wanted to kill each other, and maybe you wanted, or maybe…

“Oh fuck… oh my Fuckin god!” Minjeong screamed under you, her nails deep on your back and the strap deep inside her as she clenched around it so tight, coming with you while the other end of the toy made you reach your own climax, biting on the girl’s shoulder. “Fuck! That hurt you fucking idiot, let go!” She complained while pushing you to the side, now both of you lying side to side on the bed, looking at the ceiling trying your best to ignore the post nut clarity. there goes another burning, steamy round of sex. Bodies so sweaty and hot you could feel the hair stuck to your forehead and nape. “I’m gonna take a shower, you better not be here once I’m out.” She said, in a bitter tone that was still somehow calmed. You heard her, but didn’t show any reaction as your eyes were still stuck to the ceiling. You sighed, hearing her enter the shower, knowing you had to get up soon to get your clothes before she decided to do it herself and pushed you out of her door half naked.

——

On a different occasion, after you two finished, you didn’t wait for her to tell you to go. You started getting dressed up a little faster than usual. Normally, you waited for her to just kick you out, ‘cause deep down you always had a little hope she’d let you stay with her, to sleep in each other’s arms like before, like when you were each other’s home and safe place. The day after tho, you were busy because of work and you needed to advance some of it so you did have to go home that night. However, Minjeong didn’t buy it.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” she asked very curious and clearly upset about your behavior, which surprised you because she was always the one in a hurry to get you out of her apartment. You scoffed.

“What? Now you want me to stay?” you asked in a sarcastic tone, which made her role her eyes “I have work tomorrow morning and stuff to finish tonight, I don’t have time to wait around until you’re kicking me out and throwing my clothes at me in the middle of the hallway.”

“Bullshit.” she said, clearly getting worked up once again because of whatever she was imagining. “what is it? That bitch texted you to get home soon?”

“What are you talking about?” You asked really tired, you really didn’t wanna deal with this tonight.

“You know who I’m talking about, y/n. Your new bitch, the one you cheated on me with.” she answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Are you fucking serious? How many times do I have to tell you that it was a ONE time thing? Why cant you get that through your fucking head?!”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me!” she yelled, tears threatening to fall already.

“I am NOT lying, fuck!” you yelled back, agitated about this whole situation, this whole routine and cycle.

“God why do we always end up fighting?!” she screamed louder in exasperation. She just doesn’t understand how someone who used to make her feel so much love now upset her so easily.

“I don’t know! You tell me!” you told her, moving your hands as you speak to emphasize your desperation for answers “You’re always the first one to raise your fucking voice. What, am I supposed to just accept it and let you talk to me like that like—”

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!” she yelled with a trembling voice and tears already falling down her face, grabbing your shirt and hardly pushing you against the wall, making you go quiet and a little scared. Both of you breathing heavy, her so close to you that you could feel her breathe on your lips. She rested her forehead against yours without making eye contact, just trying her best to calm herself. “I Fuckin hate you, y/n.”

“No you don’t…” you whispered, this time waiting for her to make the next move. And so she did, kissing you deeply. And there you went for yet another round. This time, it made you so exhausted that you fell asleep for a little while, and Minjeong decided to take the chance to shower.

She hated herself. For enjoying the taste of your lips, the touch of your hands, the feeling of your skin. The taste of your body and how you knew hers so well. She hated you (no) but she hated herself more for not being able to escape you, to resist you. You broke her fucking heart and you didn’t even seem to care, and still here she was, calling you when she needed you, and you would always come like you always did. Or when you suddenly text her or knock on her door, she couldn’t deny you. Her body burned for your touch.

It burned for it and afterwards it would still burn, but for different reasons. Minjeong always needed to shower after having sex with her ex. She needed that private time, to desperately try and erase you from her body like she wasn’t gonna call you again soon. Minjeong would cry under the water, knowing she could never erase the print you’ve left in her heart, her soul. Knowing she would always yearn for you to make her body yours. She was yours, and as much as she hated the pain you caused her, this is something she had yet to accept. That you were each other’s. That she couldn’t just cut that thread. Her body didn’t listen to her, her mind was fragmented and so was her heart. Pieces of them everywhere inside of her, most of them not able to process all of this.

So she’d cry under the shower, out of pain, out of anger, out of love. Out of so many things. Kim Minjeong was just emotionally exhausted, and you? You were emotionally numb. And you were trying to be ok with it for now, ‘cause you knew the moment everything hit you again, it was gonna be chaos inside of you. You were not gonna be able to process your girl not being your girl anymore. The love of your life turned into some type of enemy that didn’t want you but couldn’t let you go either. So you trick your brain, deep down hoping things will get better and you’ll find some answers. For now? You’d make Minjeong yours again and again the only way she allowed you to.

Even if it was killing you both.

#kpop gg #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #aespa x reader #aespa smut #aespa imagines #aespa scenarios #aespa minjeong #aespa winter #kim minjeong #minjeong x reader #minjeong smut #minjeong angst #Aespa winter x reader

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dwonfilm · 2 months

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There’s no life after you. | Dean Winchester x Reader (one-shot)

Summary: Dean felt like he had no other option than to push [Y/N] out of his life completely. When he and Sam find a case in her hometown, he’s hit with all of the emotions he’d tried for so long to bury.

Warnings: swearing, mild-angst, mostly sadness and ending with fluff.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Flashbacks are in bold.

Dean and Sam had found a case in Reno, Nevada—a city that had a lot of memories particularly for the older Winchester. Sure they’d worked a dozen or more cases around here over the years but that wasn’t the type of memories that kept playing on his mind. He only wished it was that simple. Sam had opted to take the backseat, needing some extra rest on the drive and Dean usually drove his precious ‘67 impala anyway. Ever since they’d found this case, the eldest Winchester was uneasy. Not because it was anything special, from the details online it seemed like it was just another vamps nest—maybe even just a handful travelling together.

No, what began to plague his mind was something that cut much deeper than that. All he could think about was you.

It had been roughly two years since he’d last seen you. Every other second of the last year and half had been him fighting the urge to reach out, knowing two things for certain. One: you’d be far better off without him holding you down. Two: even if that wasn’t the case, he’d really hurt you the last time you spoke and despite how much he missed you.. you’d likely never speak to him again—but that’s what he’d wanted right? You to move on, you to live a life that wasn’t plagued by the dangers of all things supernatural. Find a good man, a normal man, settle down.. get married and have kids. Not have to worry about tending to someone who had spent his entire life broken. Shaking his head to try and rid himself of these thoughts, it seemed the universe had other plans.

It seemed at some point in the drive his playlist had changed and delved into the ‘divorced dad rock’ side of things—the first few notes of what he recognized as a Daughtry song began to play. Seemingly just as they’d finally crossed the state lines into Nevada, the lyrics began..

“Ten miles from town and I just broke down, spitting out smoke on the side of the road. I’m out here alone, just trying to get home to tell you I was wrong but you already know. Believe me I won’t stop at nothing to see you so I’ve started running.”

Now Dean knew exactly what song this was and it damn sure wasn’t helping with his desperate need to stop thinking about you. He reached out to change the song but when the chorus hit, he stopped and his finger merely hovered above the button.

“All that I’m after is a life full of laughter, as long as I’m laughing with you—and I think that all that still matters is love ever after, after the life we’ve been through. ‘Cause I know there’s no life after you.”

It was as if the song was delivered down by the hand of God himself, which only made the ache in Dean’s heart that much worse. He’d been in pain ever since he left two years prior, but he had no right to be—he knew that. After all, the reason he didn’t have you by his side was because he left. It was because he walked away. Deeply he’d sigh as the next verse again would line up with the exact thought in his head.

“Last time we talked, the night that I walked burns like an iron in the back of my mind. I must have been high, to say you and I, weren’t meant to be and just wasting my time. Oh why did I ever doubt you? You know I would die here without you.”

Death had truly paled in comparison to how he felt seeing the look in your eyes. All of the pain, the hurt as he watched you break in front of his very eyes. You’d been together three years in total, but what you didn’t know—what he refused to tell you is that his worst fear was becoming a reality. Lucifer had threatened you in order to make Dean comply with his demand. He’d figured out the only way to get to the elder Winchester was through you, seeing as Lucifer himself needed Sam for his own personal vendettas. It wasn’t long after this that Dean knew he had to get as far away from you as possible. All the pain and suffering he’d endured in his lifetime would be nothing if your death was due to him. He couldn’t live with that and more importantly, you deserved more than that out of this life.

Sam began to stir in the backseat, which he’s caught sight of through the rear view mirror and so Dean quickly changed the station. He’d use Metallica specifically to shift the mood before his brother woke up and started asking too many questions. Questions that Dean wouldn’t have the answers to and he was already battling his mind to keep it all at bay.

Gripping Baby’s wheel tightly in his hands, he’d continue to path to Reno. About fifteen minutes later was when Sam’s eyes actually opened. “Mornin’ sleeping beauty.” Dean said with a (fake) smile on his face. “Ha-ha, very funny. Wait.. how long was I out? Are we in Nevada already?” He asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and noting their desert-like surroundings. “I don’t know, hours Sammy. Yeah we’re in Nevada—about an hour or two ‘til Reno.” Just saying the name of the city was enough to have him nervous again. There was a brief bit of silence between the brothers, Sam had a thought on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t know whether he should say it. Dean’s eyes had fixated on the road ahead and he sensed that his younger brother was gonna bring it up—bring you up, he’d always really liked you. Besides that, he could always seem to tell when things were troubling Dean despite his best efforts to hide it. “You know you could-“ Sam started but knowing it was coming, the elder brother immediately shut it down. “Sam, don’t. Please. I can’t and you know that.” Dean’s voice was shaky and that let him know that he’d already been thinking about things far too long. “You’ve been thinking about it. I know you, man. You think I didn’t see the look on your face when I told you we had something in Reno?” He sighed, knowing that his older brother was struggling with this didn’t make him feel good but he also knew it was making Dean feel worse. “Sammy, please.. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

Sam would shake his head but he let it go, rehashing this with Dean while he was attempting to drive wasn’t gonna end well for either of them. Not to mention an hour and a half of odd tension in such a small place wasn’t ideal either. Instead, the younger brother’s eyes averted from the front of the car altogether as he turned to gaze out the window next to him. Sighing partially in relief and partially from the lingering thoughts, Dean would fully place his attention on the road and on the directions to this particular motel. They needed to get in, solve this case and get out before he did something he’d been trying for quite some time not to do.

Surprisingly this case was a little more difficult to follow through on, these vampires were incredibly elusive and their nest wasn’t the easiest to find. However, after a couple days lingering around they finally located the nest and were able to kill the three vamps that had been killing the locals. As it had become part of the job, Sam and Dean went out to a local dive bar to celebrate the victory—but Dean was trying to do more than that. He was trying to drown the lingering thoughts of you with whiskey, swallowing the liquid and letting it gently burn his throat. This would end up having the opposite effect and only made him think of you more. Over the first hour and change the brothers spent at the bar, three separate girls tried to hit on Dean but he didn’t really pay them any mind. Around the two hour mark the elder of the brothers decided he needed some air, getting up and walking outside. Dragging his dominant hand over his face he was doing anything to cling to that last bit of pride that he had. You were better off and he knew that, but every day that had been lost it was eating at him slowly. He needed a distraction and so he walked over to his precious car, getting into the driver’s seat and sighing. One flick of the wrist and the lights would come on, the radio coming in clear as day: it was that goddamn song again.

“You and I, right or wrong, there’s no other one. After this time spent alone it’s hard to believe that a man with sight could be so blind, thinking about the better times.. must’ve been out of my mind. So I’m running back to tell you.”

Again it seemed like the universe had intervened and Dean Winchester was far too drunk to fight it. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes and right now, all that he needed was you. He opened up the driver’s side door and got out just to come face to face with Sam, who had been worried when he couldn’t locate his brother in the bar. “What is it Dean?” He asked, noting the emotional state it was clear he was in—confused but not entirely. It wasn’t like him to be so open with his emotions, but you’d helped him with that. “I need to see her, Sammy. I can’t do this anymore.” There was enough emotion in his voice for his younger brother to know what he meant. Nodding Sam would approach the driver’s side door. “I’m driving, we’re not risking it with you.” Dean normally would protest but right now? All he needed to do was get to you. It didn’t matter how, he just needed to fill the void that he’d put there himself.

“All that I’m after is a life full of laughter, without you god knows what I’d do.”

Dean’s eyes were technically gazing out the window, but that’s not what he saw. His mind was flashing different images in rotation—one happy memory with you followed up by something he’d done to chase your memory away after he’d run away.

“All that I’m after is a life full of laughter, as long as I’m laughing with you and I think that all that still matters is love ever after—after the life we’ve been through. I know there’s no life after you.”

It seemed fast, but it had probably been about thirty minutes of time that had passed. Not that you lived very far at all, if you were even still at the last address the Winchesters had for you—Sam took a longer route hoping that Dean would sober up a little more before talking with you. Anyone would be able to smell the whiskey on him at this moment, but his words needed to be coherent if there was any chance of you hearing him out. It seemed that he had sort of the same idea because even when the impala had pulled into the driveway, he just sat there. “What if she doesn’t wanna talk?” Dean asked, somber tone to his voice as his eyes remained fixated on the front door of what he hoped was still your home. Mind racing almost as fast as his heart. “Dean, if I know anything about [Y/N], she’ll at least listen—even if she’s incredibly pissed and still hurt.” Sam reassured his older brother. Dean sighed again, not wanting to waste another second and also wanting to see have some alcohol in his system for this conversation. Slowly he opened the passenger side door and stepped out onto the asphalt driveway. Gently closing the door, it had still alerted a dog inside the home who was barking just a little bit every couple of seconds. He carried himself up the few cement steps, turning to see the front door closer than ever. Now more memories of the last time he was here were coming back.

“Dean, please.. why are you doing this? You can’t possibly just have stopped loving me, that’s not..” Her sobs were breaking his heart but he knew this was something he had to do. “Why are you walking away from this? From us? After everything we’ve been through.. after the life we’ve built from the ground up.. you’re just throwing it all away.” She felt as if there was a fire in your chest, she’d been sobbing so intensely for what seemed like forever. Mascara and eyeliner were smudged and made a mess of the space underneath her eyes. “Say something, Dean—please.. why are you pushing me away? What did I do?!” Every word became far more intense and the actual words were hard to discern from the sobs. Dean had just been staring at the floor since the words left his mouth. Three years next to her and he never imagined this day would come, but if you died just so Lucifer could get one up on him? He’d never survive. He’d never be able to carry the weight of your death or your blood on his hands—so this was the only way you got to live a long and happy life without him putting you in harm’s way. “[Y/N/N] I.. I just don’t think we were meant to work out. I’m sorry, I just-“ he was cut off by her intense sobs hearing him saying it again. “Please Dean.. don’t do this.. whatever I did wrong, whatever’s not working we can fix it. Please..” She pleaded, voice already hoarse from the crying and the wailing. “Sweetheart you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me, I’m just, not made out for this relationship stuff.” He’d barely lifted his gaze again to meet her own, but only for a second. Seeing her like that was too hard for his heart to bare. “Why Dean.. please.. it’s been three years. Three years of this and we can talk about it. Whatever it is we can move past it together, don’t you love me anymore?” She sobbed out, arms wrapped around her own chest as Dean looked up to her face and met her gaze one last time. “Honey, I’ll love you ‘til the day I die.” Sighing he turned to walk out the front door, closing it and never looking back. He couldn’t look—his heart had already shattered.

Now here he was again, roughly two years later, taking the last few steps to fully stand at your front door. Lifting his hand which had formed a loose fist, he’d knock three times upon the wooden material of the door. There was no answer and no sign that anyone was home other than the dog barking that he’d heard moments prior. Dean was about to turn and walk back down the pathway when he heard the doorknob turning after the lock clicked out of position. “Do you know how late it is, what do you nee—“ her eyes widened when she realized who had just knocked at her door. “D-Dean.. what are you..” she felt her bottom lip quivering. Dean could tell this was the last thing she’d ever thought would happen. “Hi, sweetheart. I-“ before he could get another word out of his mouth, he was met with a harsh slap to the side of his face. His eyes fell as he collected his thoughts, waiting before speaking again. “I deserve that. I deserve that and so much more. [Y/N/N] I’m so sorry.. I’m so fucking sorry.” He got out, not being able to look back up at her just yet. “You’ve got some kind of nerve showing up here, this late at night.. Dean you broke my heart and you stomped on it to boot. Why do you think after two whole years that I’d listen to whatever the hell you have to say?” It was obvious that there was sadness and hurt laced within her voice, more so than the anger she’s trying to push forward. Slowly his head tilted back into its usual position and his eyes found hers again. “I know there’s no life after you.” It was all he could say in that second and her expression softened, before she’d built the wall back up. “You came all the way to quote a Daughtry song?”

“No, I’m quoting that damn song because for the three days Sam and I have been in Reno I’ve heard it everywhere. My car, in a store, hell in my head—[Y/N] I’ve been trying every day since I left to push your memory from my mind. I wanted so badly to forget about you and know that you were free to have a normal life. I also know that I’ve got no right to stand on your doorstep telling you how much pain I’ve been in since the second I walked out this door two years ago when this whole fucking thing is my fault.” He paused, tears slowly falling as he tried to blink them away. “[Y/N] I was afraid. I was so afraid.. I couldn’t lose you like that-“ Again he was cut off but just by her words this time. “Dean you did lose me, you pushed me away—fuck you pushed me out of your life altogether. You’re absolutely correct, you don’t have any right to stand here talking about your pain. I didn’t eat, I barely slept, for weeks after you left. All I did was lay on that couch and sob. Endlessly. After I couldn’t physically sob any more I thought, there has to be some kind of monster or witch doing this and so I researched for weeks and still barely ate and slept only a fraction more. All I came up with was dead end after dead end and so I finally had to realize the truth.” She sobbed out, pausing to try and steady her own voice. “You chose to leave on your own.” She’d opened her mouth to continue talking but now it was his turn to sob out, which caught her completely off guard. “He made me feel like I had no other choice..”

Now you stood with a perplexed look on your face as tears were streaming down your cheeks. “What.. who-“ before the question could even fully leave her lips, the man she loved began to speak again. “Lucifer. He needed Sammy, you know all that one true vessel shit, so he couldn’t hurt me that way. He knew any threat he put to Sam wouldn’t stick because deep down I knew that Lucifer needed Sam alive and well to complete whatever sick and twisted plan he had thought out.” She felt both her heart and her stomach drop, figuring out exactly where this was going. “[Y/N] he said he’d kill you and not think twice. I couldn’t.. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you died all because I love you. I wouldn’t be able to breathe knowing that your death was my fault and I’d never get your blood off my hands.” His confidence had wavered, the alcohol mostly wearing off. You sighed, a silence falling over the two of you as you attempted to process what he’d just said. “Dean.. why didn’t you just talk to me? Tell me what he said and we could’ve talked about it.” She asked, the venom gone from her words and a sadness settling over them. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to admit that I was scared especially to you, I’m the one that was supposed to keep you safe. I know that’s not an excuse and I’m not trying to excuse me hurting you like I did—that image of you hugging yourself and crying the hardest I’d ever seen someone cry has haunted me all this time. I never wanna hurt anyone but I damn sure never wanted to hurt you.. at all—let alone like that..”

Again a silence fell between them, it felt like a lifetime between their words and the action she’d finally take. Stepping forward she used both of her hands to cup his face, both having glassy hues due to all the tears. “I forgive you, Dean.” She said almost in a whisper. He felt his heart racing and he eyes searched hers for any sign that this might not be true. Seconds felt like hours but he couldn’t find any sign of deception and instinctively, he plunged forward to connect his lips with her own. It had caught her off guard but she was returning the kiss with an explosion of passion. They chased the other’s lips in a back and forth motion until they both couldn’t breathe. After pushing the limit a little further they’d separate but remain forehead-to-forehead. “I know there’s no life after you.” She spoke in a soft tone before pulling Dean inside of her home and re-locking the door.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #fanfic #supernatural #dean winchester imagines #spn #spn imagines #dean winchester x reader #fanfics

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levmada · 2 months

Note

Hey how are you feeling?

Im glad your requests are still open. Loved the answer to my last request so I hope you don’t mind me sending in another one?

Some cute hurt/comfort with taller gn reader and postwar Levi. After the ackermanbond is gone I imagine Levi getting really sick for the very first time. Fever and everything also adding the flashbacks to when his mom got sick. And reader ofc nursing him back to health and also comforting him 🧡

im so so so so so so SO sorry😭i took literal months with this sari... i wish i had a good excuse, but i hope you like this :(

i took a lot of inspo from this eruri fic from ao3. stress cannn cause flu-like symptoms, and i wanted this to be the outcome of all those years of suffering for levi finally catching up to him.

probably not medically accurate: it's not very clear what the nature of levi's knee injury. it's seen partially crushed, but it's not clear what medical technology marley has (especially w/ the last volume cover in mind). i'm functioning on my idea that levi can't get around without a wheelchair, but he does have range of motion, partly based on the health of the cartilage/joints/bone, but mostly based how painful it is. it's more complicated than that, but i wanted to add a disclaimer anyway.

(tldr this is the levi torture hour)

➥ pairing: postwar!Levi x taller!gn!reader

➥ about: Not even Levi is invulnerable, both after the war and back then, so it's stupid to be scared when he gets sick.

Until it isn't.

➥ c/w: sick fic, post-war Levi, delirium/nightmares, reverse hurt comfort, implied past csa, happy ending (promise), medical inaccuracies, nightmares, established relationship (married)

➥ wc: 5.3k

In the comfortable, quiet rays of mid-morning, you hum to yourself, and sip your mug of tea. You watch a white cardinal with red tips toddle on the windowsill on the other side of the glass. That’s rare.

It takes off.

You trace the rim of your mug, sighing slowly but heavily through your nose. It’s getting harder not to think about it.

You want to think that—now that you and Levi are retired (what an odd word…)—it’s reached that natural time to start sleeping better. Sleeping in, not out of an absurdly rare indulgence, but to relax.

It’s been nine months, not counting the few Levi was cooped-up in the hospital.

Even for him, relaxation shouldn’t be impossible after some point. In fact, he hasn’t shot awake just before dawn for a while, anticipating a reveille that won’t ring out.

But you fought beside him; your bad habits and your happiness wrestle over the reality of your new life too.

But…

You reach across the small wood table and hover your hand over the cup of tea you poured for him; decent, but not piping hot and steaming like earlier.

This will be a once in a lifetime opportunity: you get to coax Levi out of bed late in the morning.

You stand, bringing your arms behind your head to stretch just a little as you walk to the hall, down to the bedroom. The door is cracked like you left it.

Like a tired waterfall, the vast majority of the thick covers lay spilled haphazardly to the floor, so you’re surprised even before you take a look at Levi, who’s still curled up asleep, facing your way. That leaves his back to the light glowing through the curtains.

He kicked them off?

Like the sheets, his sweater is white; his trousers are dark, loose and cut (with his knee brace on underneath). With his arms tightly crossed like that, and the harsh crease sitting on his brow, he almost looks awake and stressed out.

“G’morning, ‘Vi…”

Importantly, his pallor, normally as pale as snow, glows pink. A few strands of black cling to his forehead.

You stride over with a bit of a frown that wasn’t as deep when you were feeling just plain impatient, and take a sit on the edge of the bed.

“Are you feeling sick, baby…?”

That crease deepens. He twitches awake. "M-Mm?"

Now that you’re close, you notice his breathing is a little labored. You touch your knuckles to his temple. Eyes barely crack open.

"Sweetheart, ‘Vi… You definitely have a fever..."

You comb his bangs off his damp forehead, and they close.

The heat radiating off his skin—you grimace a little.

Actually... have you ever seen Levi so much as under the weather? You can’t even remember.

He shifts slightly, as your strokes rouse him.

"Do you feel sick?" you ask for the second time.

"Huh? I'm fine..."

His eyes finally blink open, fluttering once or twice. But then, a shadow passes over his face that seems to disprove that assertion of his.

He shoves his elbow underneath himself and starts to lift himself up. "Stop—fretting. 'm fine."

He gets most of the way; he’s resting heavily on one arm when he grunts, then leans.

"Stop, sweetheart," you huff, and take him by the shoulder. "What hurts? Your head?"

Looking dazed, like he’s not all there, he lifts his bad hand to his temple and, with his ring and little finger, feels his temple.

“Don’t know…”

"Lay back down, you clearly need some rest—even if this is rare for you, okay?"

“What?” He looks perturbed with you. “Don’t be stupid. There’s too much t’do. N’ I’m fine,” he grumbles, blatantly lying.

"Levi..." you warn.

"I'm just... tired," he mumbles. He rubs his eye with his thumb. "Fuck. Fucking tired."

His strength starts to evaporate as his eyes slip closed.

In an instant—before he collapses—you thrust your arms around him, and lay him back down on his side slowly.

It doesn’t quite hit you until you maneuver his arm out from under him, and listen to his even but labored breathing for a bit of time.

You stare down, eyes wide. Are you scared?—Or anxious?

Well either way—it’s not until you stopped being at risk for a violent death day-in and day-out for years that you even realized you were constantly anxious.

It’s not a nice feeling.

It’s okay. Though. You rationalize. Not even Levi is impervious to everything, and certainly not now. It’s stupid to be surprised.

You feel his forehead with the back of your hand one more time, and kiss your teeth. Definitely a fever, but an exact number wouldn’t hurt.

The thermometer and other simple medicines are shoved in one of the high kitchen cabinets, a second thought when you both moved into this quaint little cabin in the woods (aside from his prescriptions). You didn’t even say it out loud, even.

Now pinched between your fingers, you stand back and stutter on your feet, unsure of what else you need. You want to need something more helpful, but the need to go and check back on him is most powerful.

A short ways down the hall, you pick up on the unbelievable yet unmistakable sound of… crying. Unrestrained, and yet, the kind of crying that steals breath.

You expect to wake up as soon as you reach the bedroom—some disturbing but absurd dream.

But you don’t. He’s curled up where you left him, eyes closed but now gasping sharply through his teeth with tears glistening on his cheeks. One drips off his trembling chin.

You drop onto the edge of the bed immediately, and try to speak, but find yourself helplessly stuck at a complete loss as to where to even start.

“Why…” You card your fingers through his hair, to no reaction. He must be asleep, right?—But how, why?

“Hey, hey, c’mere,” you coo gently, sitting so as to swaddle his back and caress his head.

You make it all not sound like a question. “Everything’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart… Wake up.”

His eyes tightly shut, and tears squeeze through. He croaks. “Can wake up.”

It takes a moment for you to register that he really meant to pronounce it as “can’t”.

“…You sound sorta freaked out, and you want to talk to Falco?—Is Levi alright??”

You silently curse Gabi for being so observant.

“Which place? I have the books, um, right here…!”

“No…” You swallow a little, and coil the bright red cord to the phone around and around your finger. You wish it was as simple as some tinnitus, or nerve pain.

“No?” Gabi asks on a high lilt; a question within a question.

“I know. He never gets sick, which is why I want to talk to Falco. I appreciate you trying to help, but please hurry?”

“Oh yeah, okay!”

You peer over your shoulder from your place stood in the hall and rock on your heels nervously. The only space of time you could find where you could bear to leave him was when he was quiet.

Falco has matured so much, even over the past year, and you trust him with this. He’s training to be a doctor; being a soldier never suited him much anyway. Levi was the first to say so, as usual the perfect judge of character.

You speak slowly and calmly to him, encouraged by his own composure.

“It sounds like a flu, just with that added symptom,” he’s thinking out loud. Thin pages turn. “Severe stress can cause flu-like symptoms sometimes… Especially when it’s prolonged. Does that sound like anything?”

“No. No way.” You shake your head, your brow pinched tightly. In fact you laugh. “Haven’t fought any Titans lately, at least.”

His voice lowers, thinking as he talks. “True, yeah. Especially for you guys, nothing could ever really compare, right?”

“You have no idea. Not with Levi.”

“We can talk about it another time, maybe,” you amend quickly. You know almost for certain that’s not going to happen.

Falco hums. “Anyway, if that’s the case, that would explain why it’s been so severe, with the sudden onset. But think of it like a fever he needs to sweat out,” he explains.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You hear the light smile in his voice. “Don’t be too far away, though. It’s easy to tell, you know.”

You smile to yourself.

Even if the Rumbling somehow started back up above your head, you’d rather die.

You write on a little notepad—some scrawl verbatim—Falco’s directions and words of advice, the phone trapped between your ear and shoulder. Most of it is generic, for influenza of course, but you write.

A blunt but dense thump sounds not so far away. You even flinch, but just as quickly let Falco know you’ll be right back.

In the bedroom, the pale blue duvet and sheets spilled onto the floor looks like a stiff waterfall being wrenched this way and that by Levi’s attempts to sit back up, like a puppet trying to pull its own strings. He grunts in what sounds like frustration, but you can’t know for sure as his bangs obscure his eyes. His hair all over is a downright wreck.

Gaping, you fall down beside him and hurry working off all the offending fabrics he’s twisted in.

“Lee—…”

Your help lets his shaky hand hover over his knee, like he can’t be sure if it’s his. He’s breathing hard; it’s ten times shakier than his hand.

“Come here.”

He doesn’t so much as twitch, but he doesn’t resist either. Then, when something in him registers that you’re there, he leans into you like you’ve just brought the weight of the world off his shoulders.

You tug the soft pantleg up, and sigh at what you see. The scarring, like a row of pink and purple mountains stabbed into his flesh, is more inflamed than usual, leg minutely trembling when you raise it.

He must’ve tried to stand up.

“Does it hurt very bad?”

Not even such an obvious question gets you a retort of any kind. He whines softly when you have to brace that area to lift him back up, but no more.

From the dull darkened blue cotton in the shape of a V in the center of his chest, and coming down from his underarms, he’s burning up; you need to get started just as soon as you’re finished with Falco. For now, you wipe his clammy temples and brush his bangs back. He’s looking at you, but he doesn’t seem to see.

“Levi…” You press on his round cheeks under your palms, grimacing at the heat pelting off his skin.

He moans softly, some relief softening his features. “Huh. Take m’jack-et. Yer cold.”

You shake your head even though he can’t see, as, sharply and without warning, tears appear and stab at your eyes. He’s not even wearing a jacket.

“Be right back,” you manage. “Okay?”

You don’t really expect a response, and you don’t get one.

First thing’s first, he needs water. You feel stupid not thinking of that first. That was at the top of Falco’s directions.

You catch Levi in a moment of relative quiet—not peace, but quiet—and cradle the back of his neck, unhinging his jaw with your other. Easy enough. You tip the glass and feed him water with the utmost care and precision. This is some act terribly intimate, a type of intimacy removed from hand-holding or sex entirely while managing to rank above them both. Over all these years, his life has been in your hands a few times, but feeding him pills—something for the fever and something for the pain—and working his shirt off for something fresh and loose-fitting feels more reverent even still. You put him in shorts and practically fortify his knee with a brace and pillows wrapped up with the belt of a housecoat so even if he rolls over, he won’t.

He chokes on a sob while you’re tucking a cold press behind his neck, forcing you to stop. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Levi?” you ask softly.

Either he’s having a nightmare, or he’s in pain, or, both. He tightens his crossed arms. His first movement in hours.

“What hurts? Falco said it might be your head.”

Another sob bursts from him. “S’head’s all over the wall, looked, it… sorry….”

He continues mumbling, but none of it sounds like words.

"Levi, it's okay, it's okay. Okay, baby? S'okay," you murmur; on and on. The washcloth has gotten smushed between his shoulder and the pillow—you set that somewhere aside. Then you lean over, rubbing with your thumbs the tears off his glistening cheeks, and messy black strands off his forehead.

Sometimes you will catch a word, sometimes you won’t. You will almost wish you didn’t the times you do. Yet you feel sworn to make sense of every mumble, a pervasive, unbreakable, urge. You’re sworn to it.

That’s how the rest of the day goes. He’s never lucid enough to eat; only enough to mumble when he’s freezing, or when he’s burning.

After dusk has bled into the sunset, and night has set in, you sit and watch over Levi religiously. To be fair, you don’t have anything “better to do”, but you hardly ate. If he knew, he’d be in your ear grumbling or otherwise dragging you by it to the kitchen, but does it matter, when he can’t know?

No, you decided, with some fucked-up determination. You want him to bitch at you when he wakes up. Not shivering trapped in an uneasy sleep.

When it gets late, you, arduously but carefully, do what you can for his knee.. He moves too much.

You wipe his face and neck of sweat, and lay a fresh, ice-cold and wet folded washcloth on his forehead. The fever is slowly getting worse.

You dote on him, carding back his bangs, and murmuring and repeating all manners of comfort you can think of. It’s becoming obvious when he’s having a nightmare.

…Finally, as Falco suggested, you’ve kept him hydrated; fever reducers every few hours.

All that's left to do then, is sleep. This realization makes you nauseous with worry.

Nonetheless, you squirm under the covers on your side, close beside him with your face tucked in his shoulder. You take a slow, deep breath.

It’s so discomforting; Levi can’t fall asleep flat on his back, ever, and yet…

Your head shoots off his chest before you’ve registered you even woke up—gasping, and a guttural cry from below. It’s pitch black, too dark to see.

That explodes him into motion. He repels you backwards as you grapple for his shoulders, and like fists closed around your throat, as he resists your every attempt to stop him hurting himself, as he whimpers tiredly, as his bawling stabs the most tender place inside you—you feel sick.

“Levi—! Stop. Levi listen to me!”

You’re louder than him, but nothing—his eyes won't open—and your stomach swoops just then as he almost succeeds in jabbing his knee in your stomach, an extra hard punch combined with the brace. That cry is a sob of nothing but pain.

Enough. Finally you bite the bullet, you drop your full weight down on top of him, if it means he’ll finally stop.

At first, you’re as steady as a boat on rough waters. A huff of relief slips out when his writhing grows sluggish, quickly.

He squirms mildly under you, breathing still stubbornly labored. “Get… off me.”

He tries to raise his arms from his sides, but can’t.

“I’ll, fuckin’ kill you.”

You viciously shake your head. “It’s just a dream.”

Are you telling only him that?

“S’ get off, you can’t, s’nough hurts ‘er.”

“L-Lee…”

You strain to make him out, as he sobs weakly. “Leave me alone already...”

His name escapes you over again like a prayer in the heat of a battle. Your determination crumbles right into dust; you fall beside him and sit up, unsure of what to do besides take his hand. You can’t bring yourself to switch on the lamp.

“It’s going to be okay.” You squeeze.

He whimpers. “…Please.”

You can’t open your foolish mouth and tell him or yourself that it’s just a dream anymore.

Falco was more correct than you gave him credit for.

Falco also warned you that it would get worse before it got better.

With the hours that keep passing—which have stretched out into two days so far—he more and more mutters in his sleep, other times under his breath, but most times he’s incoherent.

But, it’s all come to fall under one topic.

And just like that first night, it doesn’t quite make sense, but it doesn’t have to.

You don’t want to think about it; you just want to take care of him. Your anxiety is constant, and sharp. If only he’d wake up; you talk to him as if he’s awake—but to no response whatsoever, like you don’t even exist.

Moments you’re forced to leave him are the worst—for you and for him. Most times when you come back, the washcloth meant to rest on his forehead has drooped and sagged beside his temple.

At any rate, the difference between fever and tears has gotten hard to tell.

You just can’t stop from shaking, and your throat is tight, but Falco remains adamant that the flu is what he said it is.

A lamp is still glowing on your side in the late night. The air is cool, and it’s quiet, but a rare moment of “peace” makes the sounds of your shared breaths obnoxious.

Your heavy eyes sting; despite that, when they creep closed you feel yourself fading in seconds, with Levi’s head tucked under your chin, upon your chest. Seemingly, any covers are too stifling for him at the moment; pressed against your collarbones, you feel his forehead is hot again.

You cradle gently the nape of his neck, idly rubbing the knot of bone at the base of his jaw. As if you’re doing anything to protect him from anything…

He mumbles, slurring, “Y’have t’come back…”

You’re not dizzy with the shock or the horror, but it’s worse almost, to be confronted with the full magnitude of a rueless, unceasing pain that is just as lonely in its magnitude as it is devastating.

You rub his back as he buries his face in your neck, sobbing like it takes all his energy to do so. “I’ll be faster.”

“I don’ know where t’go, what do I do now?” he babbles over your soft hushes. “Wait, next time I’ll get it right...”

“It’s okay, love, it’s okay.”

“I don’ know why I even…”

Trailing off, he starts to whimper, and can’t go on.

He doesn’t stop, it doesn’t, not for a second while—all you can do—is hold and console him even though he may not know it.

Until he exhausts himself. Drifts. into a light sleep.

For it to happen all over again. Seeping into his sleep like crude oil, the next stress-induced terror to force his breathing shaky, labored.

"...Need," he whimpers, the first word you’ve made out in a while.

Your stomach swoops, the thought that you can do anything to help directly. "What do you need, sweetheart?"

"Don't sell it. Don't sell it, I need it."

You deflate, jaw wobbling. "Sh, sh, it's okay,” you soothe. You reach for the tray on the bedside behind you, and, using the cold cloth, you dab the sweat from his blushing temple and neck.

"S'gonna take away from m...me." He starts to pant, continuing to mumble, crying, a complete melting away. Lamenting, abject.

"Shh... Shh..."

His arm loosely draped around your waist—which you’d put there—tightens its hold, but in drifting bursts, like he keeps slipping.

“Please.”

You inhale sharply. "Please?"

"Don'. Leave me."

"I won't leave," you swiftly promise. "I won't leave, I won’t.”

He cries in his sleep for so many names that aren’t alive anymore.

Don’t go. Don’t go.

Wake up, Momma.

Wait... Just wait.

That wasn’t the worst point. Not even hunched, taken-over by so much stress and pain until he gagged was the worst point. None of what he had already said combined could amount to the last night.

You snap awake on your stomach at some blurry unknown instance, acutely aware you’ve slept like shit.

Did you even, only blink?—No. The most faintest shade of grey weakly gives your bedroom the suggestion of texture and shadow, but—your arms are empty. You reach over blindly, but the side where Levi should lay is empty and cold.

A pit bursts open in your stomach, filled with bright panic.

You lurch up and shove off the covers, breathing hard.

Where could he be??

If he was feeling better, then you would've woken up a while ago, because he would've told you. Not just...

He can’t be far.

You shiver.

On your feet, you cross the room in a few strides, and frown as you pull open the bedroom door. It's never left closed at night this time of year; it gets about ten degrees colder without the insulation. (But the chill pressing to the bottoms of your feet, you barely even noticed.)

"Levi!?"

The switch on the wall is right within reach, which lights up the hall. You look right and almost jump back; you might’ve tripped over him if you hadn’t looked first.

He sits hugging his legs—tightly folded against his chest, Levi, why?—there right outside the white doorframe. Shivering, glossy face red with fever, and most certainly in agony by now with all the abuse done to his knee, you’re not sure if he even notices you. Not from this angle.

You fall down on your knees. “Levi? Look, I’m here. Talk to me, please, okay?”

His bloodshot eyes are cracked open, staring ahead, but seemingly seeing nothing. Between the tears, you can’t tell if this is good or bad.

"Levi..." You take his shoulder in an attempt to nudge his attention towards you. “Look at me. Please.”

He was already tense. His head turns, mostly looking at you sideways—emphasis on his pale eye—but looking at you nonetheless. Good.

"What's wrong?"

His brow knits together.

“C’mere.” You lean forward and card his damp bangs back to feel his forehead. The whole time, he just looks at you passively.

“Better... But this cold won’t help in the end. Medicine is in the bedroom, so...”

You huff very softly to yourself. “…You need more bedrest. I don’t know why you even came out here. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

He blinks.

“Let’s go back to bed,” you insist then, under your breath.

Some clarity crosses his dark eyes, his voice then a cracked brittle rasp. “…Not the bed.”

His gaze sort of drifts away from you.

You thought he was through with that habit. Confused, you ask, “Why not?”

“It’s ruined. It was always disgusting, but… this is worse.”

“I’ll change the sheets then. I know, it’s not—”

“You can’t do anything,” he says, tucking his chin to his chest, intent eyes focused somewhere down. “Corpse smell doesn’t come outta anything, it just smells worse the longer you leave it. It gets colder n’ heavier, then the smell, it attracts bugs. There’s a fluid,” he says quietly. Casually. “And then it shrinks. Getting eaten’s all the same. But I think that way’s worse.”

What can you even say to that?

“I won’t do th-at to you…” His brow furrows sharply, gripping his sleeves—you see now—with bright white knuckles. Even sitting up, he’s almost curled up into a ball.

You talk quickly, before the full gravity of all this can reach you.

“You won’t do anything,” you insist. “How about the sofa? Would the sofa be okay?”

“I can’ go to sleep,” he hisses. “I won’t wake up.”

“That’s not true. Why do you even say that??"

"I'm sick."

"Yeah, but it’s not bad-sick!”

You regret the moment you raise your voice. That almost innocent passivity he exuded is crushed by complete and utter detachment.

“…Denial doesn't help. Don’t be stupid. Don't even—shouldn’ touch me. It’ll end worse fer you.”

You tremble minutely, stewing in silence while in panicked, rapid-fire fashion, you rifle through explanations. He sounds so serious. And he's nothing but.

You know that Levi’s mother died from sickness. He’s called out for her, a lot.

In nightmares… A nightmare?

You guess that’s where it all started for him, as he always slips into a warm voice and delicate eyes those rare moments he does tell you about her. Being sick then, being sick with you here… It all clicks into place.

Okay. Fuck…

The real monster of it all is the fever—making him unglued like this.

You rub the bridge of your nose, swallowing thickly. Okay.

A firm calm settles over you; for once, Levi is scared. That means you won’t be.

“Levi…” you console.

You reach out to his shoulder, only to flinch when he flinches before a push knocks into your chest. It sends you falling into your backside with an injured grunt.

Instantly, intrinsically, you know it’s going to bruise; all his strength, one hand.

Your eyes pop open to his own—uncannily—wide with his lips twisting into a grimace.

Putting his eyes ahead again, he sucks in a choked breath and slumps. “Sorry, I thought you were… Sorry.” He gasps. “I’m sorry.”

You get back up on your knees, slowly, and settle down beside him without hesitation. You’re more frantic than ever to close this icy chasm-like space.

“It’s okay.”

He shakes his head as sharp and as fast as his rattling breaths. “I thought you were him. I don’t get it… it just kept hap-happening… Fucking…”

You see him still searching for the words to explain.

“It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

The warmth in your voice is genuine. When it shakes, you just hate that he’s suffering with nothing you can do to lift it all away, like blood by steam.

He grips his hair, having made himself as small as possible again. “I’m—s-sorry.”

“Shh…”

Slowly until now, you’ve been leaning in, and now you firmly rest your hand on his back, rubbing in long, consoling motions. This seems to help.

You stay like this while his breathing shudders through tears. It’ll only hurt you both to bring force into it again; either way, any way, it’s not his fault. You don’t know what he meant… but why would it be the man who came and chose to look after him?

“Sorry…”

Everything you see if one ruddy cheek and his temple glistens with either tears or sweat, and his eyes look painful.

“Look at me. Baby.”

An order seems familiar. He does.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

He understands slowly, but you know the answer. After a time, he blinks, and nods.

“Stay still, please.” You kiss his temple.

“…Sure.”

One arm around his back, the other scooped under his knees, you lift him up into your arms with not too much difficulty. He goes tense, but leans into your chest nonetheless.

“It’s going to be okay,” you murmur as you walk. You want desperately to ask about his leg, but this feels too fragile, like if you bring up physical pain then the whims of the fever will take him back over.

He’s trembling all over, it seems, before you lay him back down in bed, and once you do he clutches a bit of your blouse at the collar with a grip that confirms for you that he’s not letting go. You sit beside him with his waist pushed against the side of your thigh.

“I’m sorry, it’s all my fault,” he croaks out softly, staring at your sleeve which he now grips. “I wasn’t fast ‘nuff. I hesitated n’ it got ‘em killed for nothing after made the same mistake… Sorry i-was my damn pride…”

You let him talk, rather mumble. When there’s a lull, you rest your palms on his hot cheeks. Better than the last time you felt them. His eyes instantly flutter in relief.

It’s surprisingly easy to give him water, then the fever reducer. Meanwhile, he’s clearly fighting the weight of exhaustion pressing down on his eyelids.

“Don’t make me sleep…”

“I’m not. I’ll just stay by your side. Then”—you cup his cheek—“I’ll do it again.”

He hardly grunts, eyes closing.

You won’t sleep, and you can’t sleep (if there’s even a difference). In fact, you’ll bring in one of the kitchen chairs and sit by him with a novel; you’ll read by candlelight, with a handkerchief hanging like a tarp from the lampshade so maybe he can rest easy.

Being that the flu is a release of stress… He’s getting better. He’s getting better.

Hour-by-hour, more or less (but mostly less), you snap awake at the tiniest stirring from your husband beside you. Maybe mumbling a ghostly snatch of a word; mostly sniffling. It takes you half an hour to drift off again.

This unforgiving cycle obnoxiously persists until morning sunlight poking your sleeping mind wakes you. Suddenly, again. You see him.

It’s a mystery, how long, but Levi is gazing at you softly with bloodshot, but, maybe aware eye. You feel better when he glances away, like every time—if, not when—you catch him staring. Your legs are tangled slightly, his slow breaths brush your cheek.

"Baby," you murmur. "You’re awake?”

He looks annoyed. “No, I’m sleeping with my eyes open.”

“How do you feel? Be honest," you quickly add. You drape your arm around his waist.

He frowns at your tone. "...Like my head got hit with a sledgehammer.”

You say nothing.

His voice gets softer and gentler. “I don’t remember… And you look like shit. What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“…So I’m going to be wrong,” he surmises, looking away. “I slept in too late.”

He goes to rub his eye, and sniffs. The distress marring his expression grows.

“It’s been a couple days, but it’s alright,” you say. You’re quick to explain as the realization seems to come over Levi that he hasn’t had a proper bath in that length of time.

Though, it’s hard to explain. It’s even harder to wrap your mind around the fact that he doesn’t remember how he’d cried, and—insinuated, what he did. What horrors he spoke of.

You finish. Behind a thinly-veiled straight face, he stares into your eyes with the quiet accusation that you haven’t told the whole story.

“It… was… bad,” you bear to admit. “That’s why I look like shit.”

The self-loathing that falls over his expression like a deathly shroud is instant. He looks away, glaring at nothing, but before he can think anything, you squirm much closer, tighten your hold, and kiss his chin.

“It’s not your fault. And if I had to, I’d do it all over again. So don’t start.”

He watches you for a beat, as if searching for some exaggeration, but soon looks resigned to the truth in your vow. At this long-awaited point in your lives, with some legwork to say the least, you’re relieved to know you’ve finally got it beaten into his head that you love him, whether he agrees or not.

You watch him swallow, and many emotions cross his eyes as he mulls your words over.

“I don’t like that it’s just a flash for me,” he resolves.

“I know. But we can… talk about it?”

Honestly you’re shocked the words left your mouth. Levi also stares at you like you just spoke a foreign language. It’s pathetic, as he would say, sure, but—people like you and him don’t just talk about things like that which fueled those nightmares of his.

He looks away, considering. Finally, he brings hand up to yours, nestled deep under the covers. Your fingers clasp gently, foreheads brushing. His silvery blue eyes calmly watch yours. That’s his answer.

It’s so different, and not so comfortable right now, but you believe, now, that’s okay.

Levi masterlist | main masterlist

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman angst #aot oneshots #aot fanfiction #captain levi x reader #captain levi x you #captain levi fanfiction

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ouroborosorder · 1 year

Text

I once heard someone say that because Arknights' disability representation is mostly tied to their fantasy turbo-cancer, then it doesn't feel like real disabled representation, and I've been unable to get it out of my head, like a piece of popcorn stuck in my teeth. So, rather than doing my homework like I'm supposed to be, I want to talk about why I disagree and why I love Arknights' approach to disability.

So, for those who are unaware, Arknights has a shockingly high amount of disabled characters, and characters who are disabled in a lot of different ways, both caused by being Infected and just being disabled in the way that normal people are. Nightingale has chronic pain, Lemuen is the best sniper in Laterano while being in a wheelchair, Akafuyu is mostly blind, Eyja has severe hearing loss, Rosmontis has severe memory loss, Amiya has very severe PTSD, I could go on and on.

And of course there'd be a lot of operators with disabilities! Rhodes Island is a medical organization dedicated towards long-term care of terminally ill patients. Of course many of them would develop disabilities, and of course Rhodes would have the resources and facilities to help them. They even make notes of how to treat them in their medical files, like how Ejyafjalla's has a little guide on how to best have a conversation with her. It makes perfect sense, but I can't say a lot of games would think about it on that level.

And that why I like this game's approach to disability so much. A lot of video games just treat disability as "someone missing an arm" or "someone in a wheelchair because of Their Injuries From Combat. It's usually treated as an individual thing, just someone who got hurt, or who maybe has a frail constitution or whatever. But in Arknights, disability isn't simply treated as a character trait for individuals, but as part of the worldbuilding itself. The world is largely defined by Oripathy, this fatal degenerative disease with no cure. And the Infected are treated as second-class citizens, considered free labor that they don't have to treat ethically because they're dying anyway. The writers realized that this would cause severe disability, both real and fantastical, and worked it into the story and world.

This runs the other way, too! Arknights' worldbuilding follows a sort of social model of disability, in a way. There's a lot of fantasy stories that treat the inability to use magic as a sort of disability, but to Arknights, it's... not. Because Arts require specialized training, and so a lot of people just don't know how to use them, and might not even know they can't use Arts. So it's not treated as such, even though it is still a physical inability to perform things other people can.

But on the other end, Laterano's culture is based around the Sankta having empathic communication between each other. Mostima, as a fallen angel, can't use this telepathy anymore, and she speaks about how othering it feels sometimes, to be physically unable to engage with an important part of her culture. While it's not explicitly stated as a disability to the Lateran culture, I certainly feel like it's treated as one to some degree. Namely that it's explicitly contrasted with Fiametta's PTSD rendering her unwilling to empathize with the people around her, as opposed to Mostima's physical inability. It's the fantasy disability treated with the same weight as real world disability, because within the world of Terra, they're the same thing.

And of course there's just some of the more fucked up fantasy stuff like "On top of her existing narcolepsy, Ptilopsis was forced to become plural after she had to have part of her brain replaced with a computer that forces her to speak and think like a computer or else it causes her severe mental stress to the point of physical pain." Which uh. I don't know where that fits in the conversation but jesus christ someone hug that owl

Of course, its representation isn't always perfect. Just off the top of my head, Nightmare is a pretty rough stereotype, with the whole "Oripathy gave her multiple personality disorder with a violent personality trying to take control of her body!!" trope. And, of course, I'm sure other people have complaints with the representation of their disability in ways that I'm not aware of because I only have the perspective I have.

But... what I remember about this game's treatment of disability isn't when it fails. What I remember is reading Glaucus' module for the first time, the story of the first time she ever put on the mechanical exo-suit legs that allowed her to walk for the first time in her life. And I started bawling my fucking eyes out. I cried because, even though I don't know the specific feeling of walking for the first time in years, I know well what she felt. That feeling of liberation from something you secretly feared was just who you are now. Even though you know it won't be a perfect solution, the physically choking emotion that you're able to get a little closer to a normalcy you've always wanted. The feeling that right now, the only thing you can do is run like the wind.

#arknights #long post #critical analysis #just gonna tag all future essays as critical analysis so that i can find them in the future because i am proud of my writing in these #writing an extremely long essay in order to put off my creative writing homework may be the most on brand thing i've ever done

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 5 months

Note

Hello hello!

I saw your “Them comforting reader after a long day” post and i thought how about a “reader comforts them after a long day” with Furina/Mona and whoever you choose. I’m gonna go back to bing read your posts now! Take care!

Comforting them after a long day

characters: Furina / Mona x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: maybe slight hurt/comfort, but mostly fluff

a/n: Couldn't exactly go the full comforting route in Mona's path, bc let's be honest. That girl is too proud to show even a little bit of weakness or vulnerability, but this should do as well.

Oh, also: FINALLY A REQUEST FOR MONA I LOVE HER SO MUCH I- SOJDVNIJSDVNSIDVNSIDJVNIJSDNV

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Furina

Even though Furina had promised herself not to hide behind a facade any longer, there were times she instinctively fell back on her old habits, the 500 year old autopilot that made it possible for her to keep her secret for so long not disappearing overnight. So when she finally closed the doors to her apartment, only to immediately turn around, lean onto them and let gravity do its job until she had slid down to a sitting position, Furina finally closed her eyes before letting out a heavy sigh she had held back for far too long.

“That was a big one. Want to talk about it?” Your voice suddenly rang out, causing her eyes to snap open and quickly land on your silhouette in the hallway as she struggled to leap back up, embarrassment flaming up in her as she tried her best to play it off as if nothing happened, only for her to end up leaning awkwardly against the door.

“Want to talk about what?” Furina shot back immediately, only to silently cringe at the way her words came out, putting on a smile as she slowly took off her shoes and coat and made her way over to the living room, being closely followed by you.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s also fine. Can I take your hand for a bit?” You eventually stated with an understanding smile, grabbing her head once she gave you a nod and starting to massage it by pressing your thumbs against different spots.

It wasn’t like Furina didn’t want to tell you… actually getting her complaints off her chest probably wouldn’t feel so bad. There was nothing stopping her except old habits and the fear something bad might happen once she opened up, that she inherited from her “former life” as Fontaine’s Archon.

“ No, I want to. But I’ll warn you. It might be a long and ultimately boring tale, so are you sure you want to list–” Furina interrupted her melancholic monologue when you pressed against a particular point on her hand, causing her to suddenly yelp in pain as you briefly stopped and looked up at her once again, your face asking her if you should stop. Just like with her opening up, your hand-massage was painful, yet also felt… pleasant and before long she signaled you to continue before reopening her mouth. “–so are you sure you want to listen to it?”

Without a moment of hesitation you responded, giving her a determined nod as you continued to carefully massage the same spot until stopped being painful, showing Furina one last encouraging smile until her complaints and worries started to pour out of her mouth. The former Archon talking until she felt the corners of her mouth dry up, with you intently listening to each and every one of her words.

…Maybe being more open every once in a while didn’t feel too bad.

Mona

Being an Astrologer was what Mona had always dreamed of being, so when it came to it, she wasn’t scared of pouring every single second of her free time into her work, even when chances were her research would reach a dead-end. Because even with fate ordaining everything that ever happened or still lied in the future, there was no way of knowing how things were going to turn out without at least giving them a shot.

So having her the last couple of weeks worth of work turned out to be for nothing when it became clear it wasn’t going anywhere was nothing Mona was unfamiliar with. It was simply a part of her job after all… but even though the great Astrologer Mona Megistus would never admit to being bothered by setbacks, you knew her better than to fall for her unaffected facade.

“Do you have ingredients at home?” You suddenly asked in the middle of your walk, immediately gaining Mona’s attention as she quickly got lost in thought, trying to remember what food she had used up and what still remained, only to eventually give up and shrug her shoulders, letting out a small sigh as she straightened her hat.

“There might still be some left. I can’t say for sure though, keeping stock of my supplies wasn’t exactly something I kept in mind these last few days,” she admitted only for you to quickly whip around your head, a smile adorning your lips as you came up with a suggestion.

“Let’s go out and eat something! That’s something we didn’t do in quite a while.” Considering Mona’s thoughtful look and how she paused in her tracks for a few seconds, it was fair to say that she wasn’t completely against your proposal, even if you were sure it would still require a lot of convincing to get her to finally agree.

“I’m not sure. Going out to eat when you could just as well buy ingredients and cook something is a waste of money isn’t it?” She hesitantly responded, still pondering as her fingers continued to scratch her chin. Truth be told. You couldn’t agree with her more. You had recently spent a lot of your money on things that in hindsight didn’t exactly prove to be the wisest investments, but even so, you felt as if it was your duty to get Mona to eat something tasty today, even if it meant eating nothing but bread and butter for a few days.

You knew Mona better than to not notice how demoralized she seemed the last few days, her sudden mood change and her increase in free time coinciding too well for it to mean anything except her latest research turning out to be for naught. Of course you knew better than to confront her directly about it… something that would only lead to Mona getting defensive as she’d deny feeling down about anything, too proud and stubborn to open up. And so, the only option left was for you to do what you did best.

“I know… But you’ve been so busy these last few weeks so I couldn’t see you all that much and... I’ve missed you,” you explained while trying your best impression of a puppy, “So can we please go out today?” When you saw Mona’s face heat up slightly as she quickly glanced around the two of you, looking if there was anyone in earshot, you knew your plan turned out to be a success, having to do your best to stop your lips from curling up into a smile when she let out a yet another deep sigh.

“Fine, but stop saying embarrassing things. We’re in public.”

#furina #furina x you #furina x y/n #furina x reader #mona x you #mona x reader #mona #mona megistus #mona megistus x reader

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lateraniansweets · 1 year

Note

Your forehead thing with vash blew me away cause im so in love with this man

So here are some thoughts for u :

Imagine vash and reader having a crush on each other but not saying a word. They've been traveling together for some time now,even before the gang was formed so reader knows Vash's secrets.

Think about when vash is down after some incident,and reader puts his forehead against HIS cause it always calms them down!!!

Imagine Vash's shock and then happiness about how his crush loves that part of him that's plant as well 😭😭😭

YOU!! THIS!! AA!!!!

JUST SDNFJASJFD DSAF i couldn't get to this ask now cause of school but aaaaa this is so <333333 DRIVING ME INSANE I SWEAR wrote this instead of my policy paper asefihfhi hifiihf

anyways i kinda just wnet wild with this cause ahdbfhasdbf VASH <333

You've known Vash for some time now—two or three years give or take, and travel side by side with him for almost as long as you've known him.

He's tried to get you to leave his side multiple times. Vash feared you getting hurt or worse because of him but you won't let him. Vash is stuck with you whether he likes it or not.

With the time you've spent travelling with him you've come to realise how little you actually knew about Vash. Sure you knew his favorite type of pizza, favorite color, all that stuff—all surface level stuff. Vash tended to avoid questions about his scars, how he knew so much about lost technology and how he could basically shrug off wounds that would have the average human bedridden for days.

But over time you've come to know his secrets, the mysteries of Vash the Stampede unravelling themselves to you.

Vash wasn't human but an independent Plant and he had a brother, a twin.

"I have a brother, " there's pain and guilt in his eyes, " his name's Nai—" He stops, cutting himself off, "Millions Knives, " He corrects, fingers gripping the threadbare blanket.

The inn you two were staying at was more than a little run-down but it would do. It was better than staying out in the cold desert barrens.

Finally, he turns to you, lips pressed into a thin line, "He looks a lot like me..." he pauses, lips quirking downwards, "He's the one who's been stealing Plants."

Vash left it at that. Guilt and hesitance in his eyes as he forced a smile on his face as he waves you goodnight.

The conversation regarding his brother ends right then and there. Whatever questions you have for him dies in your throat at the glimpse of his eyes.

The topic isn't brought up again until you met the man himself.

It was brief, brutal and followed by pure devastation.

Millions Knives—Nai, as Vash called him looked so much like Vash. This man looked so much like Vash—your Vash, sweet, caring Vash who could never bring himself to harm anyone, glared at you with pure unadulterated hatred.

Horror rushes through you and you find yourself stuck in your place like a deer in headlights. A chain of knives rushes out for you, with full intent to kill but you make no move to dodge.

You would've died if it weren't for Vash managing to shove you out of the way and carry you to safety like a sack of potatoes.

You didn't even realise he'd done so until Vash puts you down, telling you to stay where you are as he plastered on a reassuring smile. It looked more like he was reassuring himself than reassuring you.

The near-death experience with Vash's body-suit-wearing evil twin doesn't fully settle in until the thick blast doors shut close behind you.

The room Vash had left you in is dark, cool and cramped. A room for cleaning supplies judging by the shadowy outline of a broom.

BANG!

You jolt, curling up against the metal door and covering your ears.

There are shouts, both from Vash and Knives.

BANG!

Another gunshot.

Then another and another and another and another.

You count eight in total.

Vash emptied out an entire cylinder.

The most you've ever heard him fire.

Shouts, screams and cries from both parties but mostly Vash.

Metal twisting and bullets ricocheting.

It's gut-wrenching to hear it all.

All you could do is bite your lip and hold back tears. Opening the door and going out there would be a death sentence for you. Knives moved with inhuman speed and agility. His weapons, those knives weren't weapons made from lost tech, they moved too fluidly for that.

There's a crash outside.

"You'd..."

BANG!!

"...your....ther.... for-"

The metal dome of the Plant facility creaks and twists as if something is cutting the ceiling open.

"...ese... ILTHY HUMANS!"

Another set of gunshots.

"NAI!"

The metal beams of the facility creak, twist and snap. The entire room shakes as the roof of the facility is lifted by those limb-like chains of knives.

You curl into yourself further, dust and debris falling down on you.

With terror in your veins, you will yourself to look up.

Your eyes widen and your heart drops.

Vash cries out for his brother to stop but it's too late.

The facility's roof is tossed down to where the town is and the bulbed Plant is gently lifted out and stolen away.

You shut your eyes close as the giant hunk of metal lands on the town. It shakes the ground with a mighty crash.

Then...

Silence.

Your heartbeat rings in your ears as you stand with shaky legs, blood running down from a long cut on your forearm. You force open the closet door, and you're met with an empty and destroyed Plant chamber.

There are bullet casings scattered on the ground and metal beams jutting out everywhere.

You find Vash at the centre of it all, standing shellshocked where the Plant and its bulb were once kept.

"Vash...?" You call out, a hand reaching out for him.

He doesn't answer.

You call out his name again, concern and fear lacing your voice.

"Mayfly?" Vash turns around and your heart breaks.

A lone tear slides down his cheek, his eyes hidden in the orange tint of his sunglasses.

You close the gap between you and him, pulling him into your arms.

Cupping his face, you gently lift the sunglasses to unveil his blue eyes holding back tears. He breathes out your name in a sob and your heart shatters further. "Oh, Vash..."

Another tear escapes from his eyes. Gently and lovingly you wipe it with your thumb.

"I...I..."

You know what he'll say all too well.

You meet his eyes, "You deserve to cry, Vash."

"No no, I don't..." his voice quivers, "I-This is my fau-"

"It's not your fault Vash."

"You don't understand, ____. Because of me Nai-" he chokes out a strangled sob, croaking out words of self-blame. Vash's breathing quickens and his body shakes in your hold.

You call out his name again and again but he doesn't respond, spiralling down the rabbit hole of self-blame and self-immolation.

"Vash," you whisper, pulling him down so his forehead is pressing against yours.

"Vash," you can only pray that this would work.

This was something he did to you when you were sick or upset. You figured it was a Plant thing seeing as he does something similar when he heals his sisters.

"____"

Vash utters your name, and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Vash."

He leans forward, pressing your foreheads closer. You could see the faint blue glow of the Plant markings on his eyes.

"I love you," The three words come out as easily as breathing. "I love you so much," you press a kiss, soft and chaste on his lips.

"It wasn't your fault, Vash," you repeat and the damn inside him breaks. He sobs silently, tears flowing, his gun dropping to his side with a metallic clack. "None of this was."

You hold him close for who knows how long, holding him as he sobbed and let his tears flow.

When Vash wipes away his snot and tears, it's well into the night. He separates himself from you, the light on his markings fading away. He opens his mouth, an apology ready to be released but you cut him off before he could.

Once again you press your forehead against his, standing on your tippy toes, "I love you, Vash. All of you."

I love you, all that you are and all the burdens you carry, I love you.

THIS MAN MAKES ME

I LOVE HIM SM AAAA

okay this concept with Nai tho

#trigun stampede x reader #trigun x reader #^asks #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #tristamp x reader #i want him to hold me gently and I want to hold him gently

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

Note

Hi there! First of all, I want to express my undying love for everything you write, it's absolutely amazing the way you describe Aemond's character.

May I request something about reader dealing with her period and Aemond taking care of her (maybe he wants to know anything about it to help her relax and relieve her pain and everything turns to sexual, it's up to you, really) since I'm one that suffer enough during those days and it would be of comfort to read something about it.

Thank you very much!

That is really sweet of you to say, thank you so much! I appreciate you and your support!

I'm a stickler for canon, I don't write modern AUs, so am basing this on the rough time period that HotD is set in (medieval era) - religious shame caused people to go to great lengths to hide their periods, and they even believed that cramps were a divine punishment for Eve's original sin. Since cramps were seen as a punishment, people who were menstruating weren't offered pain relief medicine (mostly herbal remedies at the time). There are few records from this era regarding the menstrual cycle/women's anatomy, as most medical texts were written by monks.

With this in mind, I'm going to write this from the perspective that both our character and Aemond are pretty clueless when it comes matters of "moon's blood", but Aemond is a naturally curious individual, so we are going to get real squicky with it. Anyway, I've rambled enough - onto the fic!

Warnings: Periods, smut, religious shame, clueless behaviour regarding women's anatomy, slight hematolagnia. Word count: ~1000

She awakens to intense cramping in her lower belly and a stickiness between her thighs. Pulling back the sheets, she gasps as she sees the crimson stains on both her nightgown and the bed.

This is the first time she's gotten her moon's blood since her and Aemond wed. She had hoped it wouldn't come at all, they hadn't been married long, but their coupling was frequent. They were both eager for a child, though it was more than apparent that they derived great pleasure from the act of attempting to create one too.

This is divine punishment cast down from the Mother for not having fulfilled her duty as a wife, she is certain of it. Her body has failed to produce a child, so now she must suffer the consequences.

She groans as her womb contracts painfully and yet more wetness blooms between her legs.

Aemond stirs beside her, voice still thick with sleep. "Are you alright, my love?"

She huffs, shifting uncomfortably and attempting to cover the stains, as her cheeks burn with shame. "It is nothing, go back to sleep."

"You are in pain." Her murmurs, taking in her furrowed brow and clenched jaw as he rouses to full wakefulness. His right eye goes wide as he spots red on the sheets, and he moves as quick as his grogginess will allow into a seated position to pull them back from her body. "Are you hurt?!"

Hot tears prickle her eyes, her chest feels heavy under the weight of her embarrassment as she covers her face with her hands, unable to bear the shocked expression on Aemond's face. "It is my moon's blood. I am sorry. What must you think of me?!"

Gently he pries her hands away, his expression softens noticeably. Concern is now etched across his features. "Is it painful?"

She sniffles and nods her head.

"I will call for the Maester, there is likely a herbal remedy he can-"

"No!" She cuts him off abruptly, gripping his arm in case he decides to leave the bed. "This is my punishment from the Mother for not producing an heir. I must endure it."

He sighs, giving her a small nod. He regards her carefully then asks "Where does it hurt?"

"Here." She responds placing her hand on her lower belly.

Gently, Aemond coaxes her hand away, replacing it with his own. The warmth and gentle pressure alleviates a little of the pain and she lets out a sigh of relief.

"Does that feel good?"

"Mmm." Is her only response as her eyes flutter closed.

His fingers drift to the hem of her nightgown and he pauses, looking back up to her face. "May I?"

She opens her eyes, looking at him quizzically. She knows Aemond has an insatiable thirst for knowledge, but never anticipated it stretching quite so far. "It is unsightly." She whispers.

"I have lost an eye, it will take more than a little blood to startle me."

He does not wait for a response as he lifts her nightgown above her hips.

She watches, her heart thudding loudly in her rib cage as he drinks in the sight of the ichor that's smeared across her thighs.

Dexterous fingers coax them apart and run through the slickness of the blood that decorates their insides. He brings them up to his face to inspect, running the pad of his thumb across the red that now stains his fingertips.

"It is thicker than the blood I am used to seeing." He says in a matter of fact tone. "When people bleed in the training yard it is not quite so...viscous."

She stares at him with bated breath, not knowing what to do or say. This is so unbelievably crass she can't quite believe it's happening.

"Allow me a better look." He says, pulling her legs further apart and kneeling between them.

"I have got to be dreaming." She thinks. "Nothing like this could possibly happen in reality."

He swipes through her folds and she elicits a breathy moan. She is more sensitive than usual and his touch sends white hot sparks jolting through her body.

His gaze snaps to hers, a look of excitement bubbling beneath his usually composed exterior as he smirks. "You liked that?"

She nods enthusiastically, not quite knowing how to articulate what she wants to say. "It feels...it just feels more...more..."

Aemond chuckles. "And if I were to fuck you, do you think it would feel more?"

Her mouth falls open at his question, anticipation fizzling in her blood as she spots the length of him standing fully to attention against his lower abdomen. "I-I don't know." She stammers.

"Sinful, sinful, sinful." She thinks, but her mind goes blank the moment Aemond slips inside of her, the added lubrication of her bleeding creating less resistance than he would usually be met with.

He lets out a groan, eye screwing shut and jaw going slack. "Gods...your cunt...it feels..."

"More?" She offers with a giggle.

Her giggles turn to lewd moans as Aemond begins to thrust inside of her. Everything feels too much and yet not enough all at once. It's as though every nerve ending is ablaze with sensation and as the familiar ache begins to build deep within her, she knows she won't last long.

The wet sounds of Aemond pushing and pulling in and out of her, coupled with the slapping of skin and their mingling pants of pleasure create a cacophony that's absolutely obscene.

As she falls over the proverbial edge, her vision goes spotty with the intensity of it, her back arching off of the bed to push her body against Aemond's as she lets out a strangled cry.

The forcefulness of how she spasms around him rips his own end from him, and he spills inside of her with a string of High Valyrian obscenities tumbling from his lips.

He collapses against her and they both lay there for a few minutes, basking in each other's sweaty afterglow while they catch their breath.

Eventually, Aemond pulls out, watching with fascination as his seed mixed with her blood trickles from her.

"We should do this again." He muses quietly.

"My pain has gone." She says, a tinge of surprised wonder in her tone.

He stares at her, almost prideful. "Then we are definitely doing this again."

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #aemond #pro aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fiction #hotd aemond targaryen

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insanityofbones · 7 months

Text

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬, 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡.

† 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 : Werewolf!Giyuu X Fem!Sub!Reader

† 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : Knotting, predator and prey, marking, monsterfucking, nipple play, breeding kink, a few puns i think, drooling and growling alot with a slight spit kink, reader is referred to as a mate

† 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 : Around 1k

† 𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 : Mostly for Desi, she deserves it. Enjoy 🥀

The sounds of his huffing from behind you caused fear to install itself upon you. Your legs hurt from the running, sweat dripping from your poor hair that sometimes caught spiderwebs. Within a second he was over you.

You were simply a citizen who accidentally fell in love with a Hashira, and who he, felt the same for you. Yet he held a secret, the fact he was a horrible monster lurking in the dark. Worried you would change your opinion on him, only to miscalculate when the full moon would be out on your date. Transforming right as you began to kiss, and you running away in a scream.

Now you were on your back, the smell of dirt invading your senses. Vibrant yellow eyes set onto your face, claws gripping the dirt at the sides of your head. His most primal urge was to eat you. Despite the fact he was also incredibly aroused. He should have fell in love with another fucking Werewolf but he fell for you and only you. A human. "Y/N...." He growled his words, drool seeping from between his now sharp canines, unable to control the insatiable hunger. Only to kiss you with a loud gasp.

His hands were rapidly trying to unclasp his belt, tonight you both were going to have sex anyways. It would be your first time sleeping with him, but you were never experienced with a monster. You only slept with your other partner once—

A moan was ripped from your lungs while your back arched. His swollen tip right at your entrance, starting to push in. A loud huff from you along with pants and a whine.

"Stay still..." He growled again, finally pushing further and stretching you out. It was like fire, turned into sparks of electricity down your spine as he somewhat eased into you. Drool covered your face, your red tongue lacing over it, sweet like honey. Something you definitely wouldn't forget anytime soon. "G-Giyu-" His first few thrusts were to get a rhythm, his hips meeting yours. He hadn't even prepped you properly but he just needed to be inside of you, he needed to mate you. His cock delved deep into your cunt, feeling the way you clenched with each whine. His muscles constricted as he thrusted into you, your entire body jolting with the pure force. It was something extraordinary, the way his eyes were locked onto your bouncing chest, it only seemed to make you wetter. Plus his nice girth filled you to the brim already, not to a horribly painful extent. Just enough to make you want more.

Your hands shot up to hook around his neck, your own eyes half lidded and mind going foggy. Moaning his name into the woods for all to hear, not giving a shit for whatever might even be out there.

Giyuu held himself with one arm up, using his other hand to rip off your yukata. Your breasts revealed for his beautiful moonlike eyes to see. More of his sweet sweet drool dropping onto them, only for his head to delve and suck the soft flesh. Ecstacy written in your face as he lapped at it like some sort of dog. His speed didn't decrease, and neither did his ferocity, humping into you like he was in some sort of fuck craze. Exactly like a horny animal.

Tomioka let go of your nipple with a soft pop, the bud now hard and darker due to the exaggerated blood flow of his sucking.

Now desperately bucking into you. The need to breed and make a litter, set in his veins. "G-gonna c-um..." Your eyes widened, was he really going to cum in you? This early in the relationship? God it felt good, you didn't even want him to stop— to hell, you'd fucking bear his kids.

His growls turned into small whines as you and him came at the same time, stars lining your vision while you bucked your hips for more exposure. Only to feel the warm seed spill into you, painting every inch of your insides with his children.

Suddenly you felt even more full, him not pulling out yet. Your eyes gazed down to where you both met, him eagerly shallowing bucking into you. His face all red, him realizing he was now knotted. His dick twitching with the anticipation of seeing you with his pups. Part of you wanted him to move, but everytime he moved his hips back the knot kept him inside, just stretching you and making you moan. It was heaven.

When Giyuu had finally stopped greedily thrusting into you, even if it was short ones, he collapsed onto your chest. Sweat lined the both of you. Your eyes darted to the moon up above, looking at the sky.

Why did you run from him?

You loved him.

He was your mate.

Tags : @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi

#werewolf #werewolf!giyuu #sub!reader #🥀† insanity™#giyuu x reader #kny giyuu #tomioka giyuu #giyuu smut #kimetsu giyuu #kny x reader #giyuu tomioka #demon slayer giyuu #kn/otting #🥀† Giyuu

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asterdisaster06 · 8 months

Text

i love you, ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

ghost x reader [exes], slight soap x reader [mostly platonic], platonic 141 x reader

1. 2. 3.

summary > "Don't trust people like me. I will hurt you in the most beautiful and intoxicating ways so that you can never go back to your normal life without my ghost following you."

...

"If you always put yourself before others, one day you'll look behind and see that you're all alone."

...

Simon "Ghost" Riley had fucked up. Massively. He had pushed you away because he was scared of losing you to the life he lived. He didn't want to see you go down the same path and lose that beautiful intoxicating spark that you always carried in your eye. And now he didn't even recognize you. Not after you had done so much work to fulfill yourself, changing the person he once knew. You had successfully climbed the ranks of the 141 Taskforce and was now crowned the second lieutenant of the team. However, you can't dodge the piercing looks that Simon sends you every now and then. You can't pretend forever.

warnings > simon riley is alluded to be a bit of a dick in this chapter

a/n > reader cenetred. author has family issues so will be found family-ing this shit. author has no military knowledge so don’t crucify me. also have no idea how long it takes to officially become a Lieutenant but we’re going with around 5 years - shortened from 7+ because us readers are smart and can go to college. it’s very much just poetic feels, but I promise the angst with Simon directly comes eventually. He’s kind of a dick tbh but that’s cause he’s emotionally repressed. i’m romanticising this because i’ve lived through similar and wish this was how it ended lmao

ao3

Simon Riley was the bane of your existence. His very being pissed you off to no end, and it wasn’t unwarranted. That anger had once been crippling sorrow and grief over what you had lost. The anger had begun as a small seed, planted in the harsh words he growled at you through gritted teeth that night. The same words that you hissed back in his face. But eventually you had managed to move on from the love of your life. Managed to move on after weeks spent with tear stained pillows and the stuffed animal he had won you once hugged to your chest. You would’ve shoved that thing in the back of your closet, but you figured you shouldn’t take your anger out on the poor thing.

Thinking of him still makes you wince like hitting your shin against a table leg, but less so. It’s faded to a simple bruise on your heart that still aches from time to time. A phantom pain for the ghost that still haunts you. Like smoke in the wind. You still fear whispering his name at night as if his spirit will come back to haunt you. You still have the keys to his apartment in your bedside drawer. You still remember where he keeps his spoons. Sometimes you wonder how many cups of tea you’ve wasted from pouring them down the drain after realising you’re still stuck in the habit of making two.

However, you know it’s for the best that you’ve parted ways. It reminds you a little of a moment in your life with him, ironically. There was this one time that you had managed to drag Simon to the beach as a small celebration for him and were out swimming as the sun had set. He only stuck his toes into the water as you swam out until you couldn’t reach the bottom. He had told you he wouldn’t save you, and you shouted back in response that you didn’t need saving. You almost want to thank him now for saying that he’d let you drown. Thank him for teaching you that you never needed saving. Not from him anyways.

It was this exact night that had led to the complete and utter dismantling of your relationship with one Simon Riley. Recalling it stings like sand in the wind against your bare legs. The kind of pelting pain that leaves no visible marks but hurts nonetheless. It steals the breath from your lungs and puts a stone in your heart.

You were so happy, so very happy. And you thought that Simon would be too. Especially for you. You broke the news to him as you were laying there on the beach that you wanted to join the military. You wanted to continue that it was because you had looked up to him so very much and wanted to do good just like he did. Even if he didn’t exactly believe he was. Before you could do so though, he had blown up on you. Completely. It was a complete shift from the Simon you thought you had known. You shudder to recall exactly what he had said, but it escalated enough for one of you to call it off.

It had gone silent after those words were uttered.

Complete silence.

You had refused to let the tears fall until you had grabbed your shit and booked a flight back to your home town. The airport bathroom had offered a greater sympathy than he had ever given you. He never even called you. You think that’s what hurts the most. That you didn’t mean enough to him to even try and work this out. You expected better from him. You truly did.

“I can’t fucking believe how bloody stupid you would have to be to do that.”

Nonetheless, you picked yourself up and signed up for the military with your family and friends supporting your every move. Your every breath. You learned to defend yourself, learned to love yourself. You had gotten around here and there, but nobody ever truly measured up to Simon. Sometimes you wonder what would’ve happened if you two had met when you were already in the military, but you always shut down those what if thoughts quite quickly. No use dwelling on something that could never be.

“This is a big fucking mistake, love.”

You rose the ranks quickly, using your spite to your advantage. Every man that reminded you of Simon always made you fight even harder. You had always told a half truth when someone asked why you wanted to join. Not the story of pain and bitterness, but the one of hope and admiration of an old friend. It made you want to throw up after the third time of giving that response, so eventually you simply changed the subject when someone asked. You didn’t even spill your past when you were blackout drunk; it being too painful even then. You drowned your sorrows in liquor and nicotine, going out with your top tier squad every Friday. Sometimes when it came to a close and you were left with the quiet of your own deafening thoughts you went outside to smoke a pack of Simon’s favourite cigarettes. A weakness that you hated yourself for.

"You are no saint, and you are no saviour either. You're just lying to yourself."

Those words ring out in your mind every time you fail to save someone. A fellow soldier or a civilian, it doesn’t matter. Self doubt creeps up on you, smothering you in its grasp. Your hands remain stained with their blood, no matter how much you scrub your skin raw in the shower. You hear their screams ring out in your brain at night, piercing the thin veil of fitful sleep that you’ve resigned yourself to after you had lost the warmth of your other half that used to hold you tight at night. Your eyes had lost their brightness, though you can’t say it’s exactly correlated to the loss of the victims. You couldn’t prove Simon right in that aspect. Not after you’ve come this far.

"Anything would be better than this!"

You wanted to believe that so badly, but your heart longed for this career almost as much as it did him. You took pride in those you had saved; albeit still haunted by those you could not. The abilities you had earned your right to were presented proudly through tactical patches displayed on your uniform - chest candy as he would’ve called it. But if he couldn’t support you through this, you didn’t know how to trust him for future endeavours. The lack of apologies simply cemented your decision and mindset.

"Why would somebody do this on purpose?"

It’s a question whose full answer still eludes you to this day. All you know is that you felt homesick for this life before even experiencing it. It’s the ache in your bones and has been carved into your ribs so you may feel the torment and euphoria all at once when your heart slams against the cage that keeps it safe. Contained.

It’s these thoughts that occupy your mind on the plane trip to the infamous compound that houses the 141 Taskforce. Anxiety pierces your nerves, sending what little food you had that morning tumbling around your stomach. Forgetting your meds this morning was likely the worst thing that you could have possibly done. Except for completely ghosting this experience. How odd it is to be haunted by someone still alive. Someone who has no idea if you’re still breathing, let alone travelling to your very location at that moment.

There was no logical reason for you to turn this collaboration down; in fact, in any other circumstances you would be proud of rising so far that you were sent to this facility. Except for the fact that it was this facility. The very one that your ex who has tormented you through night a day for years. You hadn’t spoken a word of his name to anyone after the first month following the breakup. You wanted a life where your friends didn’t even know his name, let alone his significance. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be a part of your life anymore.

You repeat this mantra to yourself as you realise you’re finally landing.

Shit.

That syllable is the only thing bouncing around your head as you’re greeted by John Price. The John Price. Alone, you notice. You had heard bits and pieces of Ghost’s team, but mostly of either Soap’s shenanigans or Price’s rulings over him. You swallow harshly and shake the hand of the powerful Captain. The very same one that had no idea that one of his subordinate’s had been your previous lover. And you planned to keep it that way at all costs.

“Welcome to the base Lieutenant, I’ve heard great things about you and your stealth skills on the battlefield,” Price spoke, shaking your hand firmly.

Lieutenant. You had always loved the sound of that word in front of Simon’s name, and had similarly always wondered how it would sound in front of yours. It brought a sense of satisfaction rushing through your veins, and yet at the same time it brought you to your knees from nausea. It reminded you too much of him.

“There was the callsign ‘Angel’ in the details Laswell sent over. Would you say that still suits you?” Price says, almost amused.

Angel. You had never intended for it to be ever spoken to you again considering its connotations with a nickname Simon had always called you. His little angel. He claimed that you were sent down from the heavens to save the sinners; although, you had never considered him one until the breakup.

How you had gained this callsign is a story that makes you want to shake like a wet dog. Shake the memory off until it vanishes from your grasp. When you were simply doing your job and slowly climbing the ranks through your initial trade training, you had this sergeant that had taken a liking to you. Much to your chagrin. He had started every conversation with the classic pickup line about you falling from heaven. It was pure torment that you had to endure for almost a full year; a year in which the nickname stuck. Nobody was willing to do anything about it, and you weren’t willing to cause a fuss by tattling on your - at the time - superior. It ended up following you out of that academy into your career.

Although, you had quickly earned the added benefit of having ‘Angel of Death’ be your full callsign after you had proven your covert operation skills - effectively wiping out an entire compound by yourself with none the wiser. Safe to say that mission was a success. The name now had something to do with your actual skills instead of your physical appearance and led you to cringe at the honorific less and less.

“I don’t think I’d be able to answer to anything else, Sir,” You answer, wincing at the mention of your callsign nonetheless.

He sends you a questioning look at your small recoil, but brushes it off in favour of moving onto a general tour of the area. It was a sizable facility with many accommodations that made you almost smile with anticipation of taking advantage of all of them. I mean, you even got your own personal shower with your room. Who is going to complain about that?

“So, that’s basically it,” Price finishes up the tour in his office. “I know you already signed off with Laswell on your contract, but just for the record, may I have you sign a few documents here in this folder? Feel free to take your time going through them.”

You overlooked the folder, noticing what little details you had shared throughout your career being asked to be confirmed by your penmanship. It makes you give a shallow smile at the memories you’ve contracted through your experiences. Some less than savoury, but many you wouldn’t give up for the world. You were looking forward to catching up with your friends back at your old base once you were settled in, but until then you scratched pen against paper.

You had finally completed signing on all the lines, getting a little tired at being told ‘here, here, and here’ over and over again. Your eyes burned with exhaustion, not quite realising how much your anxiety had taken out of you. Your hands had a small leftover tremor plaguing them as you handed the pen back to Price, but you felt better. Significantly better.

“I can tell you’re tired, so I’ll lead you to your quarters and let you rest there for tonight,” Price says, sending you a small quirk of his lips.

“Thank you, Captain,” You reply, sending a tired yet appreciative look in his direction.

“Oh, please, call me Price. If you know Kate as well as she says you do, you’ve earned that at the least,” He laughs.

You flush red, letting out a bashful grin at that. It was true that you had run into Kate a few times before realising what a big part she played in your field of work. Most of the time at the coffee shop where you held a part-time job while attending the military academy. However, the time you had sat across from her and her wife after getting stood up really sealed the deal. You being introduced as the ‘person that actually gets our coffee right’ which gave you all a good laugh. They had comforted you once you opened up about why you were at a fancy dinner alone, they welcomed you into their open arms, and that was that. The topic ended up on what you were studying for, and it all came out into the open. The silent conversation those two had with their eyes before opening up had almost made you shit yourself before Kate explained.

You had tried to stay slightly distant after figuring out exactly what she did for a living, but she had shut that down real quick - saying that if anyone had dared to call you a nepo-baby that they wouldn’t live to tell the tale. You really hoped she was exaggerating.

Back in the present, you were letting out a laugh at Price’s words before there was a knock at the door. Your heart dropped to your stomach, making your breath stumble before completely halting. In your heart, you knew who it was before Price even told him to let himself in. The gruff voice saying he didn’t expect Price to have company so late made you feel like a deer in headlights, unable to move as their untimely demise stares them right in the face.

Except this time around, this deer had broken through the freeze reaction long ago. You had learned and adapted, unwilling to relive being frozen as Simon yelled in your face yet again. You couldn’t face the shame quite yet, not unprompted at least.

You quickly turned away from your initial reaction of turning to the door. You mouth goodbye to Price and nod in respect; hoping that he would forgive you for abandoning his office without any notice. You kept your eyes to the floor, feeling his eyes staring holes through you, burning your skin like a bullet wound.

You had changed a lot throughout the years, more so in preparation for being moved here. You weren’t going to turn down this once in a lifetime opportunity just because of a silly disagreement over half a decade ago. You remember staring at a face you barely recognize today while gripping the porcelain off white sink in your shared bathroom. Past you taking actions to change your hair into something that ended up being the new normal. You had taken a page out of Ghost’s book and invested in DIY-ing a personalised mask that resembled a bird with tinted glass shielding your eyes from anyone that could recognize you simply off that. You actually had quite a few - each one for a different occasion.

Nonetheless, the mask you currently wore, its only purpose that you cared about right now was hiding your identity. Simon didn’t immediately react, so you took that as a good sign. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was simply concealing his emotions, but you had a feeling that wasn’t the case. You peruse the halls, not entirely sure how to get to your room. You had a vague idea, but backtracking made it a little more difficult. Especially since you were more concerned with conversing with Price than memorising the exact layout.

You take a turn around a corner, immediately bumping into someone with a familiar face, your eyes betraying your displeasure as you wordlessly stared into the Scots eyes.

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xxsabitoxx · 2 years

Text

How the Upper Moons eat 🐱

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ characters: Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Gyutaro

Warnings: contains explicit smut and descriptions of pussy eating so like… if that’s shocks you clearly you didn’t read the title babes — oh also unrealistic descriptions of what a woman’s 🐱 tastes like!

Note: feeling really ambitious with day 1 of my “upper moon October” — super iffy on writing smut for Gyutaro still so that’s why his is a bit shorter… anyways enjoy :)

Muzan

It’s not often that he goes down on you. He really has no desire to make you come or even bring you pleasure, if you happen to get off while he’s trying to blow off some steam? So be it. However, on the rare occasion that the demon king himself offers you the wonders of his tongue, you better enjoy every second. See that’s the cruel thing about Muzan. He’s utterly phenomenal with his tongue, he knows just how to make you scream. Muzan does know where the clit is, I mean really he can’t woo human women with just his fake charms. He enjoys the way your arousal tastes, for demons it’s kind of like having a sweet. The issue is, Muzan doesn’t like sweets. So it’s really a one and done for him, so you better cherish every second of that orgasm because you won’t be getting another.

Kokushibo

He’s quiet, mostly because his tongue is busy, but also because he’s fascinated by the faces you make. Kokushibo has one set of eyes trained on your face, the other set is trailing up your body and the third is somewhere around your cunt. His tongue is skilled, surprisingly, and it’s very fast. He’s not afraid to use his fingers either, simply gauging what you like by the nosies your cunt makes. Kokushibo is the type to suck on your clit while perfectly fucking into you with his fingers, earning satisfaction in the way your walls squelch around his digits. Kokushibo loves the taste of your arousal, greedily sucking it off his fingers after you’ve come. He’s not as selfish as Muzan and has a bit of a sweet tooth so he’ll happily go down on you a few more times. Especially if it means seeing your eyes unfocus as you come because of him.

Douma

He’s actually… going to eat you. Not only is Douma a glutton… he’s utterly sadistic. If anyone is going to get pussy drunk, it’s going to be him. Douma could spend a literally eternity between your thighs, happily lapping at your clit until you are oozing all over him. He’s addicted not only to your sugary sweet taste but the way your cunt feels against his tongue. Douma gets a bit lost at times, his tongue trailing over to the supple skin of your thighs. Well… he simply can’t help himself, razor sharp teeth scraping at the skin until it threatens to break. To distract you from any pain, he’ll have at least two fingers inside of you, massaging your g-spot until you are crying out of pleasure and pain. Douma is also huge on eating you out when you’re on your period, so I don’t think that comes as a surprise to many. Quite literally it’s a two-for-one deal with him and he usually won’t try and eat any other parts of you in the process.

Akaza

He will do everything in his power to make sure you are utterly fucked out on his tongue alone. Akaza loves taking you while you are on your back, his fingers spreading your thighs apart while his tongue greedily laps and sucks at your clit and folds. He loves to tease you, watching as you lose more and more of yourself to the pleasure he is giving you. Akaza is all about sloppy head, both giving and receiving and he has quite the sweet tooth as well. Unlike Douma, we know Akaza refuses to hurt women. The most pain he’d ever cause you while doing down is overstimulating you. Akaza gets off to you calling his name, finding the twitching of your cunt under his mouth all the more satisfying. Akaza hates to admit it, but he’s willing to beg you… he’d do anything to be able to spend hours buried between your thighs.

Gyutaro

Absolutely devious. He’s simply not going to give you what you want, at all … if ever. Gyutaro loves to embarrass you, he loves to see tears fill your eyes as you quietly beg him to do something… anything. If you even manage to get him down there, don’t expect his tongue until the very end. Gyutaro needs his mouth free so he can bully you the whole time he scissors you open with two fingers. He knows how good you must taste, listening to Douma talk about his sexual endeavors used to peak Gyutaro’s interest. Then, he found you, someone to fulfill his desires. Yet he couldn’t seem to stop bullying you, even when he finally gave in and buried his head between your legs. Even then, he’s still teasing with feathery light flicks of his tongue. Not stopping until you are trembling and coming from barely any contact at all.

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docwritesshit · 8 months

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Hello dear Author how about the reader and the character swapped bodies

characters : Ao lie ,Macaque,Tang,Wukong

The same lover Ao lie

Ooooooooo this will be a fun one!

Anyways!

Ao Lie!

This was... New to him.

He wouldn't ever try and peek, no no no.

But he is curious, so I inspects your arms and legs to see if you had hidden anything.

He makes more of what he sees, and brings it up to you the first chance he gets.

He backs up if you don't want to talk about it,

But you do answer some of his questions, like if you have eczema that you hide or stretch marks you got

If you have a period during this, oh good luck to him.

After this whole situation, he brings you whatever meal you want on your period as well as all the cuddles you ask for!

Macaque!

oh he is so damn tempted

But after you explicitly stated that he can't he doesn't

Though he likes to raid your closet and and try on all the outfits you've hidden away

That dress you like but only wear around the house cause you're not sure when you can wear it? He living in it

That suit you were on formal occasions? He teases you with it, wearing it as much as he can

He takes notice of the more hidden parts of your body, a freckle on your hand you usually wear a ring over, a mole on your back

He eats it all up. He wants to see all your little quirks

But he contains himslef

And bro takes the period pain like a champ, but does take extra care after to not do anything to make you uncomfortable during said perios

Tang!

This mfer is freaking out.

He may be a flirt, but this isn't how he wanted to see your body.

Every time he needs to change, he closes his eyes and lets you do it

He is so scared to see an inch you don't want him to see

This man is all about that consent

He exclusively wears your hoodies and sweat pants like they will be gone the next minute

And periods?

Oh this guy is the wimp.

After, he brings you all the chocolate you desire and any takeout you want

Wukong!

Oh this boy took a peek already

You know this little shit did, just a peek down the shirt before you smacked him upside the head.

He does inspect your body as well, smiling as he notices things he never noticed before

He looovveesss wearing your pj's, they are so soft

And tank tops. He gets warm easily in your body so tank tops and shorts help a lot

And he tired to teach you how to use his body with his powers but you mostly... Cabt so you just walked around normally

And periods? Oh those hurt him

He now gives you all the cuddles and love you need while one those

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk x reader #lmk sun wukong #lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong x reader #lmk macaque x reader #lmk ao lie x reader #lmk ao lie #lmk tang x reader #lmk tang

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aalyssah · 2 months

Text

Relaxed

Pairing: Cody Rhodes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Cursing, Fingering, Fluff, Names, Nipple Play, Oral, (Reader Receiving), and Praise. Minors DNI 18+

Word Count: 1,402

Summary: Cody gives you a massage to help you relax after a long day which leads to another way of helping you relax.

A/N: Another Cody fic! At first I was gonna write this as just fluff, but I changed it to smut. Anyways, Hope You Enjoy!

You let out a sigh as you closed your car door, pressing on the lock two times until a beep was heard. You walked up the concrete driveway of your shared home before jiggling the lock with your key.

You were ready to go inside, put your stuff down, take a shower, and lay down with Cody. Your thoughts were stopped when the door opened, your key still in the lock. It was Cody.

He was standing there with a warm inviting smile on his face. "Baby." He greeted, taking your purse from your hands. He guided you into the house, a hand on the small part of your back.

As you walked through the door, the sight of a massage table caught your eye. You then saw the table littered of oils. Confusingly, you turned to look at Cody. "Cody, what is this?" You asked him.

Cody gently set your purse down, and grabbed the coat that was on your shoulders. "Just a little setup for you. I wanna help you relax, I know you've had a long day at work." You gave him a small smile, letting him take your coat.

You watched as he walked to the door, hanging the coat on the hanging rack. "Strip for me and lay down on your stomach on the table." Before you could protest, Cody was walking away from you into the bathroom.

You shook your head, listening to him, and stripping from your clothes. You took a nearby towel and wrapped it around your body before getting on the massage table and laying on your stomach.

Cody soon came back, putting on some soft rain sounds from the TV. He then dimmed the lights, a nice peaceful darkness taking over the room.

You smiled, realizing how lucky you were. "Cody, baby, you didn't have to do all of this." Even though you couldn't see him, Cody shook his head, grabbing a bottle of oil.

"I know I don't, but I want to. You've worked hard today and you deserve this. Just let me help you relax." He lastly said, pulling the towel down and rubbing his hands together.

You laid there as his big soft hands smeared the oil on your back, a satisfied sigh coming out of your mouth. Cody smiled, hearing that. He wanted you to relax.

When you called him during your lunch break you sounded so stressed and upset. After you told him the reason why, (Your boss putting so much work on you while your co-workers sat around doing absolutely nothing.) you wanted nothing more than to go home and rest.

"Feel good?" Cody asked, getting a hum as a response. Your eyes were closed as his hands roamed across your body. As he added more oil, you felt yourself slowly getting lost in his touch.

Your eyes were closed, almost about to fall asleep when the slight tap on your hip caused you to wake up. "Flip over on your back, love." You whined, not wanting to move, but like the gentleman Cody is, he helped you, mostly doing all the work to flip you over.

Luckily, it wasn't bright in here otherwise your eyes would've been hurting. Cody carefully took the towel off, biting back a groan when seeing your naked body.

He rubbed more oil on the front of your body, hands slowly rubbing in between the gap of your breast. He was focused, watching your breast move at his touch. His fingers pinched at your erected nipple, a whine erupting from your lips.

"Cody-" Cody ignored your whine, continuing to play with your nipples. Although it might be painful, you felt okay with it, letting him pinch and pull your buds.

Cody didn't even notice the growing bulge in his boxers until he looked down to see the boner poking straight near your side. He looked down at the side of the table, seeing his bulge about to rip out his pants.

Cody ignored it, trying to focus on you, but when your hand reached over to his boner, stroking it through his shorts, he recoiled back. "N-no, this is about you, not me." Cody said, continuing to rub oil on your stomach.

You frowned, wanting to give him some relaxation just as he did for you. "Please, let me, Code." You tried reasoning with him, but Cody shook his head.

"No, baby. Maybe tomorrow. Tonight is about you, and I wanna give you the same pleasure you've always given me."

While Cody finished his sentence, his hand trailed down your body, all the way down to your cunt. His hands hovered over your clit, rubbing small circles. You moaned, closing your eyes tightly.

You've missed the feeling of his hands touching your body.

Cody paused for a moment, grabbing some oil and squirting it on your core. He rubbed his fingers through your folds, the sounds of your lips smearing mixed with the oil filling the room.

"Cody, please." You begged, bucking your hips into his hand. With ease his finger slipped inside you, a moan falling from you. Cody groaned watching as his finger disappeared.

Your eyes were closed, mouth slightly open with breathy moans falling. The feeling of his finger hitting deep inside you was pleasure.

Cody's voice then broke you out your thoughts. "Feel good, yeah?" You nodded your head, hands reaching down to his wrist. You attempted to push his hand deeper and faster, but that only made Cody chuckled.

"Needy, aren't you?"

You mewled. "It's not enough." Cody hummed, pulling his fingers out and dropping to his knees. You let out a squeal as his big hands gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to his face.

Cody didn’t warn you as his lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking the juices of your arousal. You clenched down on his tongue, your hands gripping his blonde locks.

Cody groaned at that, his deep groan sending vibrations up your body. “Cody! Oh my god~” Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head, your body moving on its own.

You were grinding your cunt against his face, desperate for release, and Cody was just taking it. There was no way in hell he was gonna stop you. He was licking and slurping anything and everything he could.

Your moans began to grow louder and your grip on his hair grew tighter as the familiar feeling in your stomach started to come. “C-code, I-” You didn’t need to finish your sentence for Cody to know what you were gonna say.

This was all he wanted— for you to cum and relax—. Cody released your folds with a small ‘pop,’ his fingers finding their way inside your wet cunt, rapidly pulling in and out, the wet sounds of your cunt filling the room.

“Then do it, baby. Cum for me, give me that sweet release.” You focused on his voice, and the feeling of his fingers and mouth, the coil in your stomach tightening with each lick, and then it snapped.

You pathetically cried out loudly, your vision turning white as your body shook, and Cody was right there to make sure every drop of your cum was in his mouth, getting slurped up.

As you slowly came back to life you could feel Cody lapping at your folds, slurping noises and grunts coming from him. Your legs lazily resting on his shoulders, your body limp on the table.

You used all your strength in your body to lift your head up and look down at Cody. He looked up at you, showing his pearly white teeth.

His hair was disheveled, mostly from your tugging, the shirt he wore was wrinkled, his arms were shining from the oil, and his mouth was wet from your juices.

Cody felt some sort of success seeing your face. You looked so tired and that’s what he was going for.

Eating you out to sleep.

Cody got off the ground and carried you to your shared bathroom, helping you wash up before dressing you in your pajamas and laying you in bed.

As Cody slid into bed to lay with you for a minute, he hissed in pain as his forgotten boner rubbed against the sheets.

He might be hard right now, but he could care less. He'll take care of the latter. As long as you're relaxed, everything's just right to him.

#cody rhodes #cody rhodes smut #cody rhodes fluff #cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes fanfiction #wwe cody rhodes #cody rhodes wwe #wwe smut #wrestling smut

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